FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

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whether a military acquaintance of the family could, or would, do anything for Henry. The said colonel always professed to be a friend of the Duke of York as well he might be, for he was of good family wealthy, and a handsome figure. But Dr. Sampson observes he is a proud, vain, weak, selfish man, who would only use his influence just as it suited his vanity. Then a word about his own expenses. He had at last accepted a loan from my father.

A good Providence surely has provided for me bountifully. I took my estimate of expenses too high, but I considered myself acting under your eye. I spared nothing. Weak, but not uncomfortable. Speak low, but tranquil. Quite happy. God bless you, and your wife and children, in every undertaking, and n every possible way! Ever, ever yours,

C. H. SAMPSON.

Next month a letter from his lodgings told the end. My father and mother immediately went to Bath, and saw him buried in the Abbey Yard. I always believed they also ordered a tablet in the Abbey, but I have looked for it in vain. They had left at home our last-born sister, Edith, in her usual health, but not a strong baby. On their return they planned to make a stay at Lichfield, where I, my eldest sister, and her friend Margaretta Heineken, were to meet them in the 'sociable' and bring them home. We were all a long time in Lichfield Cathe dral. My mother went into tears over Chantrey's Sleeping Children. A strange gloom possessed me. Under one of the seats of the sociable was a black provision-box, for all the world like something else. It was produced as soon as we were well out of the

VOL. I.

Z

town on our return, and laid on this lap or on that. I became certain something had happened. A hundred yards from our house at Derby an employé met us, and whispered something to my father. Edith was dead. She had been taken with congestion of the lungs. The eldest of the family left at home was a sister, nine years old. The Hadens, our medical attendants, could not be found, either father or son. At last one came, too late to do any good. Thus a long and tender friendship, which had always included every member of the family, was closed at last in a double sorrow.

It may be asked why I have given so much space to a man who did so little and who left no mark. Few indeed of my readers can have heard the name. The question only raises another. How came it that Dr. Sampson left no mark? He published nothing but the sermon I have mentioned. I have perused it once more. The Doctor gives some of his Indian experiences, and dwells on the singular claims of India, and the special facilities it seems to offer to missionary enterprise. The people are naturally gentle, and are willing attendants in our houses, on our journeys, in our amusements, and even in our churches, for they stand by and look on while we worship. Their own superstition has much in common with our faith, possibly in the way of leakage from our older truth. They have their Incarnation, their Mother and Child, their mystic Triad, and much more. The preacher does not add that ancient Paganism had all these also. His argument is stronger when he speaks of our positive duty, that is,

TALKERS AND WRITERS.

339

If we care for our faith, and of the hold that such men as Schwartz acquired on the Hindoo mind.

I suppose that our much-loved friend had not even the physical strength to write much, or even a little with much power. His weekly sermons took what strength he had. But I also remember that in those days it was usual to speak of authors as secondrate people. The talkers were the men of real talent, and it was they who found their way to the tables of the great, or to the best positions in the Church. Writers were believed to be men with personal or social disqualifications, eavesdroppers, or vultures, who picked up what better men had said, and made books out of droppings.

Mrs. Parish, with whom I have said my eldest sister was for some time, had a horror of authoresses. She divided people into three classes-men, women, and women who write. In the year 1822 we, at Derby, performed Pyramus and Thisbe, and my eldest sister wrote a very pretty account of the whole matter, the preparation, the difficulties, and the mishaps. I had proposed to her to contribute it to a school magazine. I took it in my pocket and expected to gratify Mrs. Parish with this proof of her pupil's powers. She gave me to understand, by words and looks, that she much disapproved of young ladies writing for any eyes but those of their intimate friends—indeed, generally of female authorship.

Dr. Sampson was much too high-minded to write for the purpose of recommending himself. As for writing to make money, he wanted it certainly, but he could never have married upon authorship. He

often said he could have saved to put by 2007. a year, but he could not bring himself to save 20/

CHAPTER LIII.

FROM DERBY TO LONDON.

IT was found I was making no progress at Mr. Higginson's. I and my younger brother Charles entered the school together, and it was natural we should be mated at first, for we had both to begin Latin. He was much taller than I was, and he could deliver his words much more easily and distinctly. I had felt it an indignity, for we had never been so paired in our home studies. But I had to submit to it, and that for two years, for we were always regarded as twins. This betrayed something wrong in the school. In 1819 my parents began to think of moving me. It must have been in that year that they spent a week or two at one of the Matlock boarding-houses, and met Dr. Bathurst, Bishop of Norwich. They were always glad of the opportunity of meeting clergy of learning and position. My mother dropped that she had a son at Repton, my brother John. The Bishop inquired his age and what he was doing. My brother would then be fourteen, and my father named the books he was in The Bishop's reply was far from satisfactory. The boy must be rather backward, or the school very indifferent. I was not brought on the scene, but my mother let out the number of her

INSIDE THE MANCHESTER MAIL. 341

family, which, as she was then only thirty-six, was something to be proud of-so at least the Bible tells us. The Bishop replied, 'Ma'am, I'm one of thirtysix. My father had twenty-two by his first wife and fourteen by his second. We've not been too many to get on pretty well in the world.'

I daresay I had the benefit of this conversation. eventually. Dr. Sampson, as I have said above, was consulted. He strongly recommended Charterhouse, and obtained from his friend Mr. Watkinson the promise of an admission into his house-the best house, Dr. Sampson believed it. I travelled inside the mail, and my father had to book my place from Manchester, paying three guineas and a half for it. If the value of a journey is to be measured by the pleasure it gives, by the new information it brings, and by the enlargement of the mind, never was there a cheaper fare. I had already studied the 'County Atlas,' and for many years after this I could give in order all the towns and villages, all the change-houses, churches, and rivers, in this voyage of discovery. Succeeding journeys could not add to the distinctness of my first impressions, I am not sure they did not confuse them.

Derby, I must tell my readers who do not know the town, or who have only seen its dingiest and least picturesque suburb from the Railway Station, has good claims to be considered the centre of this island. It divides picturesque from unpicturesque England. From St. Alkmund's Church you may walk on hills and mountains to Scotland, or on a bowling-green to London. There were indeed some elevations on