CHAPTER XX.

LITERATURE AND PRUDENCE-THE PRINTER OF YORK, AND THE CURATE OF CUMBERLAND.

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HERE is a kind of Biography little known, little read, and yet interesting in the highest degree,

from its simple and unaffected delineation of the lives and manners of secluded energetic men, who were only known in the domains of humble life; but whose history, nevertheless, abounded in interesting incidents-not more interesting, perhaps, than those which happen in the lives of most men, but which happened to men who were gifted to observe, to note, and to relate such particulars. The life of Thomas Gent of York, of which Dr. Southey gives an outline in "The Doctor," is full of homely melo-dramatic character; it is an excellent panorama of the ancient City of York, and realizes to the reader's mind the home-life of that day; it was a romance of life, too. Born in Dublin, though of English extraction, Gent ran away from his apprenticeship, as a printer, on account of the brutal usage he received from his master. During his employment as a printer in London, his life admits us into some curious and striking particulars of the state of the Press, and of Liberty, at that time-the beginning of the seventeenth century. Next we hear of his obtaining a situation at York, in the office of Mr. White, King's printer for five counties (there were few printers in England, Gent assures us, at that time, out of London), "None, I am sure, at Chester, Liverpool, Whitehaven,

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Kendal, Preston, Manchester, and Leeds." The offer from his new place was eighteen pounds a year, with board, washing, and lodging, and a guinea to bear his charges on the road. "Twenty shillings of this I offered," he says, "to Crofts, the carrier, a very surly young fellow as ever I conversed with, but he would have five or six shillings more."

One cannot but stop to wonder how this surly fellow, Crofts, would admire being pinned thus like a buzzing cockchafer to the page of friend Gent, without even the power of a remonstrative grunt; yet, but for this surly insistment upon overcharges, he had passed altogether out of sight, and his name by no mortal pronounced more. Gent was not at all daunted.

Finding him so stiff with me, I resolved to venture on foot. He set out with his horses on Monday, and the next morning, being the 20th of April, 1714, I set forward, and had not, I think, walked three miles, when a gentleman's servant, with a horse ready saddled, and himself riding another, overtook me, and for a shil ling, with a glass or so on the road, allowed me to ride with him as far as Caxton, which was the period of his journey.

He reached York about twelve o'clock on the Sunday following, and finding the way to Mr. White's house, the door was opened by Mrs. White's head maiden, Alice Guy. Ah! Thomas! Thomas! She ushered him into a room where Mrs. White lay ill in bed; but the old gentleman was at his dinner by the fireside, sitting in a noble armchair with a good large pie before him, and made him partake heartily with him.

I had a guinea in my shoe lining, which I pulled out to ease my foot, at which the old gentleman smiled, and said it was more than he had ever seen a journeyman save before.

A prudent man, Thomas Gent: he continued here very happily for twelve months, and then he determined to visit his friends in Dublin,

But what made my departure somewhat uneasy, I scarce then

knew well how, was through respect for Mrs. Alice Guy, the young maiden who I said first opened the door to me, who I was persuaded to believe had the like mutual fondness to me; she was the daughter of Mr. Richard Guy, schoolmaster, at Ingleton, Lancashire, with very good natural parts, quick understanding, fine complexion, and very amiable in her features.

But Thomas was a backward wooer. bitious.

He was very am

My heart could not slight so lovely a young creature, as to pretend I had no esteem for her charms, which had captivated others, and particularly my master's grandson, Mr. Charles Bourne, who was more deserving than any. However, I told her (because my irresolution should not anticipate her advancement) that I should respect her as one of the dearest of friends; and receiving a little dog from her as a companion on the road, I had the honour to be accompanied as far as Bramham Moor, with my rival.

Poor Alice! Gent was obliged to leave Ireland to prevent being seized by his former master. He travelled to London, and generally seems successful in business, for he was thrifty and prudent; but always exhibits adherence to the true and noble affections, cautious as he was. After he had accepted an offer of a partnership in Norwich, he immediately relinquished it, because, but a few hours after, there came a mournful letter from his parents, saying that they were very infirm, and extremely desirous to see him before they died. He returned to England again; but his courtship was managed in a very dilatory manner; indeed, we never hear of any correspondence at all. Yet said his mother, "Ay, Tommy, this English damsel of yours, I suppose, is the chiefest reason why you slight us and your native country." But Tommy made the heart of his English damsel sick with hope long deferred.

I had little money, and no certain home whereto to invite her. I knew she was well fixed; and it pierced me to the heart to think, if through any miscarriage or misfortune I should alter her condition for the worse instead of the better. I imagined things

would so fall out that, after some little time, I should have occasion to invite my dear to London.

Poor Alice! A little while yet, and she had been engaged to Thomas ten years. At last

One Sunday morning, as my shoes were japanning by a little boy at the end of the lane, there came Mr. John Hoyle, who had been a long time in a messenger's custody, on suspicion, for reprinting Vox Populi Vox Dei.

"Mr. Gent," said he, "I have been to York to see my parents, and am but just, as it were, returned to London. I am heartily glad to see you, but sorry to tell you that you have lost your old sweetheart; for I assure you that she is really married to your rival, Mr. Bourne."

I was so thunderstruck that I could scarcely return an answer. My own remissness that had occasioned it, and withal that she could not in such a case be blamed for mending her fortune-all these threw me into very deep concern.

He consoled himself by writing, ballads, which although impoverished enough in poetry, were very popular. He heard occasionally from York, and both Mrs. Alice Bourne and her husband inquired frequently after him. "Although," says he, "I now must never expect to behold my first love at York, though I was sensible that Mr. Bourne, though a very likely young man, was not one of the most healthful persons; but far from imagining otherwise than that he might have outlived me, who then was worn to a shadow." "Gent's life in London" is, however, not merely the chronicle of his love griefs; he saw much of the tyranny and censorship exercised over the press, and gives a lengthy account of young Matthews, whom he saw drawn on a hurdle to execution, for printing a treasonable paper, although he was but nineteen years of age. He seems, also, himself, to have been somewhat of a treasonable printer; he gives a curious narrative of his printing some papers in vindication of a clergyman committed to the King's Bench. When printed, the papers were packed up, and his master

hiring a coach, they were driven to Westminster, and ushered into a spacious hall, where they were placed near a large table, on which was a carpet of curious workmanship, and presently a bottle of wine for their entertainment.

We were presently visited by a grave person, in a lay habit, who entertained us with one pleasant discourse or other. He bade us be secret, "for," said he, "the imprisoned divine does not know who is his defender, and if he did, I know his temper,-in a sort of transport he would reveal it, and so I should be blamed for my good offices."

"You need not fear me, sir," said my master.

"And I, good sir," added I, "you may be less afraid of; for I protest I do not know where I am, much less your person; nor heard where I should be driven, or if I shall not be driven to Jerusalem before I get home again." For my part I was inclined to secrecy and fidelity, and therefore I was nowise inquisitive concerning our hospitable entertainer. But happening afterwards to behold a state prisoner in a coach, guarded from Westminster to the Tower, "God bless me!" thought I, "it was no less than the Bishop of Rochester, Dr. Atterbury, by whom my master and I had been treated."

But while Gent was going through a variety of strange adventures, imprisoned on suspicion of treasonable printing-having his types, when he became a master, seized upon domestic matters were re-arranging for him. He

says:

See again the wonderful effects of Divine Providence in all things. It was one Sunday morning that Mr. Phillip Wood, a quondam clerk at Mr. Midwinter's, entered my chambers, where I used to employ him, too, when slack of business in other places.

Tommy," said he, "all these fine materials of yours must be moved to York. Ay," said he, "and you must go too, without its your own fault; for your first sweetheart is now at liberty, and left in good circumstances by her dear spouse, who deceased but of late."

"I pray Heaven," answered I, "that his precious soul may be happy, and, for aught I know, it may be as you say: for, indeed,