married again. Will. himself, on arriving at man's estate, married "Suke Holmes," and became a 66 gozzard," or gooseherd; that is, a keeper and breeder of geese, for which the fens were, at that time, famous throughout the kingdom, supplying the London markets with fowls, and the warehouses with feathers and quills. In these parts, the small feathers are plucked from the live geese five times a year, at Lady-tide, Midsummer, Lammas, Michaelmas, and Martinmas, and the larger feathers and quills are pulled twice. Goslings even are not spared, for it is thought that early plucking tends to increase the succeeding feathers. It is said that the mere plucking hurts the fowl very little, as the owners are careful not to pull until the feathers are ripe those plucked after the geese are dead, are affirmed not to be so good. The number of geese kept by Will. must have been very great, for his "brood geese,' alone, required five coombs of corn for daily consumption.

:

The inundations to which the fens were then liable, from breaches, or overflowing of the banks, overwhelmed him with difficulties, and ruined his prospects.

"The poor old geese away were floated, Till some high lands got lit'rally coated ; Nor did most peasants think it duty Them to preserve, but made their booty; And those who were not worth a goose,' On other people's liv'd profuse." After many vicissitudes and changes of residence, he settled at Marshland, in Norfolk, where his wife practised phlebotomy and midwifery, while he officiated as an auctioneeer, cowleech, &c. &c. Indeed he appeared to have been almost bred to the doctoring profession, for his own mother

was

แ a good cow-doctor,

And always doctor'd all her own, Being cowleech both in flesh and bone." His mother-in-law was no less skilful, for in Will.'s words

"She in live stock had took her care,

And of recipes had ample share,

Which I retain unto this day."

His father-in-law was an equally eminent practitioner; when, says Will.,

"I married Sukey Holmes, her father;
Did more than them put altogether;
Imparted all his skill to me,
Farrier, cowleech, and surgery,
All which he practised with success."

Will. tells of a remarkable and surprising accident, which closed his career as a cowleech,

Thus disqualified, he removed to Lynn, and opening a shop in Ferry-street, commenced his operations as a purchaser and vender of old books, odds and ends, and old articles of various descriptions; from whence he obtained the popular appellation of "Old Hall." On a board over the door, he designated this shop the

"Antiquarian Library,"

and thus quaintly announced his establish ment to the public:

—————————“In Lynn, Ferry-street,
Where, should a stranger set his feet,
Just cast an eye, read " 'Antiquary!'
Turn in, and but one hour tarry,
Depend upon't, to his surprise, sir,

He would turn out somewhat the wiser."

He had great opportunity to indulge in "Bibliomania," for he acquired an extensive collection of scarce, curious, and valuable books, and became, in fact, the only dealer in "old literature" at Lynn. He versified on almost every occasion that seemed opportune for giving himself and his verses publicity; and, in one of his rhyming advertisements, he alphabetised the names of ancient and modern authors, by way of catalogue. In addition to his bookselling business, he continued to prac tise as an auctioneer. He regularly kept a book-stall, &c. in Lynn Tuesday-market, from whence he occasionally knocked down his articles to the best bidder; and he announced his sales in his usual whimsical style. His hand-bill, on one of these occa sions, runs thus:

"LYNN, 19th SEPTEMBER, 1810.
"First Tuesday in the next October,
Now do not doubt but we'll be sober!

If Providence permits us action,

You may depend upon

AN AUCTION,

At the stall

That's occupied by WILLIAM HALL.
To enumerate a task would be,

So best way is to come and see;
But not to come too vague an errant,
We'll give a sketch which we will warrant.

"About one hundred books, in due lots, And pretty near the same in shoe-lasts;

Coats, waistcoats, breeches, shining buttons,
Perhaps ten thousand leather cuttings.
Sold at per pound, your lot but ask it,
Shall be weigh'd to you in a basket;
Some lots of tools, to make a try on,
About one hundred weight of iron;
Scales, earthenware, arm-chairs, a tea-urn,
Tea-chests, a herring-tub, and so on;
With various more, that's our intention,
Which are too tedious here to mention.

"N. B. To undeceive, 'fore you come nigher,
The duty charg'd upon the buyer;
And, should we find we're not perplext,
We'll keep it up the Tuesday next."

During repeated visits to his surviving relatives in his native fens, he observed the altered appearance of the scene from the improved method of drainage. It had become like "another world," and he resolved

"to try

His talent for posterity;" and "make a book," under the title of "The Low Fen Journal," to comprise "a chain of Incidents relating to the State of the Fens, from the earliest Account to the present Time." As a specimen of the work he published, in the summer of 1812, an octavo pamphlet of twenty-four pages, called a "Sketch of Local History," by "Will. Will-be-so," announcing

"If two hundred subscribers will give in their aid, The whole of this journal is meant to be laid Under public view."

This curious pamphlet of odds and ends in prose and rhyme, without order or arrangement, contained a "caution to the buyer."

"Let any read that will not soil or rend it,

But should they ask to borrow, pray don't lend it!
Advise them, Go and buy;' 'twill better suit
My purpose; and with you prevent dispute.
With me a maxim 'tis, he that won't buy
Does seldom well regard his neighbour's property;
And did you chew the bit, so much as I do

From lending books, I think 'twould make you shy too."

In the course of the tract, he presented to" the critics" the following admonitory address.

"Pray, sirs, consider, had you been

Bred where whole winters nothing's seen
But naked flood for miles and miles,
Except a boat the eye beguiles;
Or coots, in clouds, by buzzards teaz'd,
Your ear with seeming thunder seiz'd
From rais'd decoy,-there ducks on flight,
By tens of thousands darken light;
None to assist in greatest need,
Parents but very badly read;

No conversation strike the mind,
But of the lowest, vulgar kind;
Five miles from either church or school,
No coming there, but cross a pool;
Kept twenty years upon that station,
With only six months' education;
Traverse the scene, then weigh it well,
Say, could you better write or spell ?"

One extract, in prose, is an example of the disposition and powers of his almost untutored mind, viz.

"No animation without generation seems a standing axiom in philosophy: but upon tasting the berry of a plant greatly resembling brooklime, but with a narrower leaf,

I found it attended with a loose fulsomeness, very different from any thing I had ever tasted; and on splitting one of them with my nail, out sprang a fluttering maggot, which put me upon minute examination. The result of which was, that every berry, according to its degree of maturity, contained a proportionate maggot, up to the full ripe shell, where a door was plainly discerned, and the insect had taken its flight. I have ever since carefully inspected the herb, and the result is always the same, viz. if you split ten thousand of the berries, you discover nothing but an animated germ. It grows in shallow water, and is frequently accompanied with the water plantain. Its berry is about the size of a red currant, and comes on progressively, after the manner of juniper in the berry: the germ is first discoverable about the middle of July, and continues till the frost subdues it. And my conjectures lead me to say, that one luxurious plant shall be the mother of many scores of flies. I call it the fly berry plant."

Thus far the "Sketch." He seems to have caught the notion of his "Low Fen Journal" from a former fen genius, whose works are become of great price, though it must be acknowledged, more for their quaintness and rarity, than their intrinsic merit. Will. refers to him in the following apologetical lines.

"Well, on the earth he knows of none,
With a full turn just like his mind;
Nor only one that's dead and gone,

Whose genius stood as his inclin❜d:
No doubt the public wish to know it,
John Taylor, call'd the water poet,
Who near two centuries ago

Wrote much such nonsense as I do."

The sale of the "Sketch" not answering his expectations, no further symptoms of the "Journal" made their appearance at that time.

In the summer of 1815, after forty-three years' practice as an auctioneer, he announced his retirement by the following laconic farewell.

"RAP SENIOR'S given it up at last,
With thanks for ev'ry favour past;
Alias ANTIQUARIAN HALL'
Will never more be heard to brawl;
As auctioneer no more will lie,
But's thrown his wicked hammer by.
Should you prefer him to appraise,
He's licensed for future days;
Or still employ him on commission,
He'll always treat on fair condition,
For goods brought to him at his stand,
Or at your home, to sell by hand;
Or should you want his pen's assistance,
He'll wait on you at any distance,
To lot, collect, in place of clerk,
Or prevent moving goods i' th' dark;
In short, for help or counsel's aid,
You need not of him be afraid."

The harvest of 1816 proved wet and unfavourable, and he thought "it almost exceeded any thing in his memory;" wherefore the world was favoured with "Reflections upon Times, and Times and Times! or a more than Sixty Years' Tour of the Mind," by " Low-Fen-Bill-Hall." This was an octavo pamphlet of sixteen pages, in prose, quite as confused as his other productions," transmitting to posterity," as the results of sixty years' experience, that "the frequency of thunderstorms in the spring," "the repeated appearance water-spouts,' -"an innumerable quantity of black snails," 66 an unusual number of field mice," and "the great many snakes to be seen about," are certain "indications of a wet harvest" To these observations, intermingled with digression upon digression, he prefixed as one of the mottoes, an extremely appropriate quotation from Deut. c. 32. v. 29, "O that they were wise, that they understood this!"

of

In the spring of 1818, when in his seventieth year, or, as he says, "David's gage being near complete," he determined on an attempt to publish his "Low Fen Journal," in numbers; the first of which he thus announced :

"A Lincolnshire rais'd medley pie, An original miscellany,

Not meant as canting, puzzling mystery,
But for a general true FEN HISTORY,

Such as design'd some time ago,
By him 'yclept Will. Will-be-so;

Here's Number ONE for publication,

If meet the public's approbation,

Low-Fen-Bill Hall his word engages
To send about two hundred pages,
Collected by his gleaning pains,

Mix'd with the fruit of his own brains."

This specimen of the work was as unintelligible as the before-mentioned introductory "Sketch," partaking of the same autobiographical, historical, and religious character, with acrostic, elegiac, obituarian, and other extraneous pieces in prose and rhyme. His life had been passed in vicissitude and hardship, "oft' pining for a bit of bread;" and from experience, he was well adapted to

"tell,

To whom most extra lots befell;

Who liv'd for months on stage of planks,
'Midst captain Flood's most swelling pranks,
Five miles from any food to have,

Yea often risk'd a wat❜ry grave;"

yet his facts and style were so incongruous, that speaking of the " Sketch," he says, when he

"sent it out,

Good lack! to know what 'twas about?
He might as well have sent it muzzled,
For half the folks seem'd really puzzled.
Soliciting for patronage,

He might have spent near half an age;
From all endeavours undertook,

He could not get it to a book."

Though the only "historical" part of the first number of his "Fen Journal," in

twenty-four pages, consisted of prosaic fragments of his grandfather's "poaching,' his mother's "groaning," his father's "fishing," and his own conjectures;" yet he tells the public, that

"Protected by kind Providence,

I mean in less than twelve months hence,
Push'd by no very common sense,

To give six times as much as here is,

And hope there's none will think it dear is,'
Consid'ring th' matter rather queer is."

In prosecution of his intentions, No. 2 shortly followed; and, as it was alike heterogeneous and unintelligible, he says he had "caught the Swiftiania, in running digression on digression," with as many whimseys as "Peter, Martin, and John had in twisting their father's will." He expected that this "gallimaufry " and himself would be consecrated to posterity, for he says,

"Tis not for lucre that I write,
But something lasting,-to indite
What may redound to purpose good,
(If hap❜ly can be understood;)
And, as time passes o'er his stages,
Transmit my mind to future ages."

Enough, to keep his harp in tune."

The care of a large family of orphan grandchildren, in indigent circumstances, having devolved upon him, he became perplexed with extreme difficulties, and again experienced the truth of his own observation, that

"If two steps forward, oft' three back,
Through life had been his constant track."

Attracted by the "bodies of divinity," and other theological works, which his "antiquarian library" contained, his attention was particularly directed to the fundamental truths of religion, and the doctrines of "the various denominations of the Christian world." The result was, that without joining any, he imbibed such portions of the tenets of each sect, that his opinions on this subject were as singular as on every other. Above all sectaries, yet not entirely agreeing even with them, he "loved and venerated" the "Moravians or United Brethren,"for their meek,unassuming demeanour, their ceaseless perseverance in propagating the gospel, and their boundless love towards the whole human race. Of his own particular notions, he thus says,

"If I on doctrines have right view,
Here's this for me, and that for you;
Another gives my neighbour comfort,
A stranger comes with one of some sort;
When after candid scrutinizing,
We find them equally worth prizing;
'Cause all in gospel love imparted,
Nor is there any one perverted;
Only as they may seem unlike,
Nor can on other's fancy strike:
Whereas from due conformity,
O! what a spread of harmony,
Each with each, bearing and forbearing,
All wishing for a better hearing,
Would in due time, then full improve
Into one family of love:

Instead of shyness on each other,
My fellow-christian, sister, brother,

The horizontal sun, like an orb of molten gold, casts a dim religious light" upon the surpliced world: the beams, reflected from the dazzling snow, fall upon the purple mists, which extend round the earth like a zone, and in the midst the planet appears a fixed stud, surpassing the ruby in brilliancy.

Now trees and shrubs are borne down with sparkling congelations, and the coral clusters of the hawthorn and holly are more splendid, and offer a cold conserve to the wandering schoolboy. The huntsman is seen riding to covert in his scarlet livery, the gunner is heard at intervals in the uplands, and the courser comes galloping down the hill side, with his hounds in full

chase before him. The farmer's boy, who is forced from his warm bed, to milk cows in a cold meadow, complains it's a "burning" shame that he should be obliged to go starving by himself, while "their wench" has nothing else to do but make a fire, and boil the tea-kettle. Now, Mrs. Jeremy Bellclack, properly so called, inasmuch as the unmentionables are amongst her peculiar attributes, waked by the mail-coach horn, sounding an Introit to the day, orders her husband, poor fellow, to "just get up and look what sort of a morning it is;" and he, shivering at the bare idea, affects to be fast asleep, till a second summons, accompanied by the contact of his wife's heavy hand, obliges him to paddle across the ice-cold plaster floor; and the trees and church-steeples, stars, spears, and saws, which form an elegant tapestry over the windows, seem to authorize the excuse that he "can't see," while, shivering over the dressing-table, he pours a stream of visible breath on the frozen pane.

66

After breakfast, Dicky," with shining morning face," appears in the street, on his way to school, with his Latin grammar in one hand, and a slice of bread and butter in the other, to either of which he pays his devoirs, and "slides and looks, and slides and looks," all the way till he arrives at “ the house of bondage," when his fingers are so benumbed, that he is obliged to warm his slate, and even then they refuse to cast up figures," of their own accord." In another part of the school, Joe Lazy finds it "so 'nation cold,” that he is quite unable to learn the two first lines of his lesson,and he plays at "cocks and dollars" with Jem Slack in a corner. The master stands before the fire, like the Colossus of Rhodes, all the morning, to the utter discomfiture of the boys, who grumble at the monopoly, and secretly tell one another, that they pay for the fire, and ought to have the benefit of it. At length he says, " You may go, boys;" whereupon ensues such a pattering of feet, shutting of boxes, and scrambling for hats, as beats Milton's 66 busy hum of men" all to nothing, till they reach their wonted slide in the yard, where they suddenly stop on discovering that "that skinny old creature, Bet Fifty, the cook," has bestrewed it from end to end with sand and cinders. Frost-stricken as it were, they stare at one another, and look unnutterable things at the aforesaid "skinny old creature;" till Jack Turbulent, ringleader-general of all their riots and rebellions, execrates "old Betty, cook," with the fluency of a parlour boarder, and hurls

a well-wrought snowball at the Gorgon, who turns round in a passion to discover the delinquent, when her pattens, unused to such quick rotatory motion, slip from under her feet, and "down topples she," to the delight of the urchins around her, who drown her cries and threats in reiterated bursts of laughter.

Now, the Comet stage-coach, bowling along the russet-coloured road, with a long train of vapour from the horses' nostrils, looks really like a comet. At the same time, Lubin, who has been sent to town by his mistress with a letter for the post-office, and a strict injunction to return speedily, finds it impossible to pass the blacksmith's shop, where the bright sparks fly from the forge; and he determines "just" to stop and look at the blaze "a bit," which, as he says, "raly does one's eyes good of a winter's morning;" and then, he just blows the bellows a bit, and finds it so pleasant to listen to the strokes of Vulcan's wit, and his sledge-hammer, alternately, that he continues blowing up the fire, till, at length, he recollects what a "blowing up" he shall have from his "Missis" when he gets home, and forswears the clang of horse-shoes and plough-irons, and leaves the temple of the Cyclops, but not without a "longing, ling'ring look behind" at Messrs. Blaze and Company.

From the frozen surface of the pond or lake, men with besoms busily clear away the drift, for which they are amply remunerated by voluntary contributions from every fresh-arriving skater; and black ice is discovered between banks of snow, and ramified into numerous transverse, oblique, semicircular, or elliptical branches. Here and there, the snow appears in large heaps, like rocks or islands, and round these the proficients in the art

"Come and trip it as they go

On the light, fantastic toe,"

winding and sailing, one amongst another, like the smooth-winged swallows, which so lately occupied the same surface. While these are describing innumerable circles, the sliding fraternity in another part form parallel lines; each, of each class, vies with the other in feats of activity, all enjoy the exhilarating pastime, and every face is illumined with cheerfulness. The philosophic skater, big with theory, convinced, as he tells every one he meets, that the whole art consists "merely in transferring the centre of gravity from one foot to the other," boldly essays a demonstration, and instantly transfers it from both,