As it fell on the lid, which was very soon hid
By the earth on the mariner’s grave.
Now o’er his lone bed the sweet briar doth twine,
And the wild flowers mournfully wave
And the willows incline, and the moon it doth shine,
On the mariner's cold, silent grave.”
More extracts from a local diary
The next extract from the private record of a local diarist is under date of March the 8th, and here the writer shows himself to be in a melancholy mood while meditating on the death of an only child. Naturally sensitive, his loss would be more keenly felt than would be a similar bereavement happening to those of a less pathetic mind, but his sorrow was intensified by the belief that if, instead of yielding to the imperious dictum of Dr. MacCabe, as against the expressed doubt of Surgeon Gilbert, he had followed the advice of Mrs. Button, an old and experienced nurse, the child’s life might have been saved. ”Water on the brain, decidedly,” said the physician, and the little sufferer was treated accordingly, but after death the seat of the disease was discovered to be at a different part of the body, for which the cure was thought to be anything but difficult. Yet, deplorable as the case was felt to be by the diarist, his outpouring of grief might have been more subdued could he have known at the time that still greater losses awaited him in after years by the deaths of three other children at the respective ages of 6, 19 and 26 years. The first of the three was attended by two M.D, surgeons, whilst her brother and sister recovered from the whilst her brother and sister recovered from the same complaint by means of more simple remedies applied by their father, and are still living as subjects by comparison for doubting the reliability of what is called medical science. But let there be a truce to further preamble while the diarist gives vent to his lamentation in prose and verse in the following extracts :—
“Twelve months ago, this day, I followed my dear little Clarence to the grave. Oh, what a day was that! Picture to yourselves ye loving parents who have never had your firstborn plucked from your bosoms, the anguish experienced by a fond mother and a doting father. The remembrance of that sad day, even at this distance of time, renews one’s affliction and reminds one how blighted were his hopes and how impossible of realisation were his fancied joys to come. Everyone appraises his own at the best, yet this partiality apart, it was the opinion of neighbours that the sun never shone on a more promising child. Albeit, it was only those who were with him night and day, who watched his every movement. and saw with rapture the rapid development of intelligence, that could realise the irreparable loss they had sustained. But why do I now dwell upon it — why recall the harrowing scenes of his interment — why still remember the mournful ejaculations of his mother, broken only by irrepressible sobs, ‘ Farewell, my darling boy !’ ’My son!’ ‘My Clarence !’ ’My only joy !’ Is it not because such scenes and such trials when coming upon us for the first time are more acutely felt than many persons suppose? Is it not because of the reluctance to resign a promising offspring to the dark vault of corruption? Is it not because of the sorrow of severing for ever the many ties of affection and tenderness? Or is it because a reminiscence of the melancholy event should teach us the uncertainty or brevity of all earthly joys, and the necessity of being prepared for Providential visitations? The following lines were penned at the time of bereavement :—
A solemn stillness now prevails,
All Nature for a time seems hushed;
Grim Death the feeble frame assails,
And, lo! its victim lieth crushed.
Alas! no more the beating pulse
Is felt, nor heard the panting breath
No pangs his little limbs convulse;
He sleeps, indeed, the sleep of death.
His fearful struggles now are o’er,
Noearthly sounds disturb his sleep
Ye call in vain; he'll wake no more
From slumbers so profoundly deep.
He struggled hard, his pains were great
Each hour he grew more weak and faint
Yet nought could human aid abate
The progress of that dire complaint,
But who can paint the mother’s grief—
What tongue can tell the father’s woe—
What friendly aid can give relief
Or stem the smarting tears that flow ?
What other joys can recompense
For loss so great, the parents, dear?
Scarce can the things of time and sense
Afford one spark or ray of cheer.
Those only who have felt the smart
Can tell what grief, what tortures wild,
What bitter pangs assail the heart
To lose a first and only child.
Yet, why, fond parents, will ye grieve—
Why, needlessly, prolong your pain—
Why will ye comfort not receive,
But wish your darling back again?
He's left a world of sin and death—
The scenes of misery and strife,
Where many a pestilential breath
Diseases and endangers life.
He’s left an earthly father’s care,
Forsa’en an earthly mother’s love,
His heavenly Father’s joy to share
In realms of happiness above.
There will he join, with pure delight
Those tuneful anthems angels raise;
There will he sing in regions bright
His great Redeemer’s songs of praise.
There, in that place where virtue reigns,
And every visage beams with joy;
There, rescued from a world of pains
For ever dwells your much-loved boy.
Then still your grief, dry up your tears,
And meekly view the chast’ning rod;
Dispel henceforth all doubts and fears;
Your little angel’s gone to God.
"Why thus the separation dread—
Why fret and grieve, and feel forlorn?
While parents cry “ Our child is dead! ”
Yon angels shout “ A child is born!”“In the same week that my own child finished his earthly career; an esteemed friend and townsman was visited with a similar affliction, he, too, having lost a boy of about the same age; and, although in a Christian-like spirit he consigned his offspring to the tomb, his demeanour for a considerable time was such as to show that he had not completely rallied from the shock. The two little B’s — for that was the initial letter of their surnames, whilst each child had a draper for its father — were buried within 6 feet of each other in the Wesleyan. Chapel ground; and in a letter of condolence to the second bereaved parent, the first mourner concluded with the following lines :— :
”Behold, my friend, your heavy loss
Is to your child a greater gain,
He having left a crown of dross
For purely one without a stain.
”I, too, you know, have cause to mourn,
For him, of late, an only son;
But God has wisely from me torn
That idolized and cherished one.
“Tis well that He afflicts us thus,
For we believe He cannot err;
"Tis well, indeed, for both of us;
Then let us never more demur!
“But henceforth this good lesson learn—
To pray and praise in weal or woe;
For soon, perchance, ’twill be our turn
A like event to undergo.”
Under date of March 27th, the diarist writes:—
“Composed the following arithmetical problems during the past week for the use of pupils :—
“A celebrated London firm ten travellers sent round,
And these ten travellers, I learn, had sixpence in each pound
For all the goods which they might sell — now list to what I say !
The worth of twenty thousand pounds was sold on one fine day.
On such a sum, although I know what sum to each was due,
That sum correctly found I wish to ascertain from you.““Ten picture frames at two-pound-nine,
Ten prints at one pound-three,
With squares of glass — the goods not mine—
I sold to Mister Tree.
Commission I shall get on these,
Percentage one-and-half;
What money, tell me if you please,
Is gained on my behalf.”“Employed a man to buy for me
Twelve railway shares at five pound three;
Commission gave nine-eighths per cent,
Pray tell the whole amount I spent.”“At the time of the late revolution in Paris
Friend Jones came in haste, and said he,
'The aspects are bad, and I’m off, Mr. Harris !
My plate you must warehouse for me.
I’m willing to pay you whate’er is your charge
Which learn I is five-eighths per cent.
There’s nine-hundred pounds worth of small things and large,’
This, hastily said, off he went,
What country he fled to, I’m sure I can’t say,
Nor when he’ll return do I know,
Suffice it that you do oblige me to-day,
My claim of commission to show.”
The diarist then goes on to say “I have often thought how very useful would be a book got up in a convenient and portable form containing the mere outlines of general knowledge, without the ‘why and the wherefore.’ Such a book would be the means of conveying a mass of popular information by the arrangement of mere facts in a comparatively brief space, and would, I imagine, open up a vast field of enquiry, besides giving a stimulus to the prosecution of various studies that by many persons are at present entirely neglected in consequence of the formidable appearance of most works of an encyclopedic, and many even of an elementary description. I do not mean that such a book might be made to supersede any one of the many excellent works on science and other subjects with which the civilized world abounds, but to be a help to the acquisition of general knowledge, and to prevent the necessity of wading through ponderous tomes or otherwise cumbrous volumes in order to arrive at a simple fact. It has never been my good fortune to meet with such a book, and I purpose therefore, to commence the preparation of one this, very day—not for publication, but merely for the use of myself, my family, my pupils and my friends. My chief aim will be to chronicle events as they occur, and to copy from various authors things that are worth knowing, the same to be put in the fewest words possible, consistent with perspicuity. I begin thus:—
“Herschel's year is 84 of ours; Saturn’s is 30; Jupiter’s is 12;” &c.
“Pigeons and goats live on an average 8 years; cats and sheep, 10: rams and pulls, 15; dogs and oxen, 20; doves, partridges and swine, 25; eagles, geese and ravens, 100.” &c.
“In England and Wales on an average at the present time [1848] 80 persons die and 120 are born every hour.” &c.
“The full moon reflects on the earth only a three-thousandth part of the light of the sun. The natural day is 4 minutes all but 4 seconds short of 24 hours. While sound travels 12 miles in a minute, light travels 12 millions in the same time.” &c.
“The population of England and Wales is supposed to double itself in 60 years; that of Denmark in 503 that of Switzerland in 44; that of Prussia in 36; and that of America in 30.” &c.
“Shrimps contain from 3,000 to 7,000 eggs or spawn; herrings, from 20,000 to 40,000; lobsters, about 22,000; mackerel, about 455,000; a two ounce flounder, 133,000; a 15-ounce sole, 100,000; a cod, 3,000,000.” &c.
The above are extracted, merely as specimens of the diarist’s unpublished “Collection of Facts” commenced in 1848.
April 6th. Have had a restless night. Have taken a draught of medicine sent by the club doctor. but it does me no good.
April 7th. Have had very little sleep during the night, and feel quite inadequate to the work at this evening’s concert.
April 8th. Health improving; have thrown ”physic to the dogs,” have drunk no fluid for three days except a single glass of port wine at last evening’s concert, but have paid more than ordinary attention to diet. Have set to music a poem written by J. T. Algar, the words of which are as follow: —
”From helpless infancy to hoary age,
Amidst Life’s ever changing devious ways,
The hopes of things to come our minds engage,
And fancy brightly pictures better days.
”The toys of childhood when they're once possessed
Lose all their charms which first obtained our praise
And what we thought would make us truly blest,
Remains to be enjoyed in better days.
”The youthful lover glowing with delight,
To some fair maid his ardent homage pays,
When the bright vision fades before his sight,
And leave him nought to hope but better days.
“The anxious parent, toiling for the bread
Which in his craving infant hunger stays,
Labours the weary day, then rests his head, A
And dreams of sweet repose in better days.
”The tott’ring grandsire, hast’ning to the grave,
Reviews his life, and as he thinks, he prays,
Great God, be pleased my family to save,
To meet in happiness in better days.
“Thus from the first to last each pleasure flies,
Eludes our grasp, in sight a moment stays;
Man lives an instant, in an instant dies ,
And dying, prays and hopes for better days.”
(Extracts from a local diary, continued.)
April 9th. Am sorry to find that before the month is less than half through, Simmonite’s prediction of “numerous fires in and about the metropolis this month,” is being too truly verified. One at Mitcham on the 4th, involved a loss of property to a very serious extent. Another on the 7th at Mr. Gladwin’s premises, 21 Gracechurch street, consumed the whole of the building and did vast damage to adjoining properties - many thousand pounds. Another great fire in the metropolis on the 10th, and now on the 11th, eight houses have been destroyed in London by another disastrous fire. How many more may occur before the month is out, time only can reveal. Have written several arithmetical problems in verse.”
April 12th. An electric message has been forwarded to London from the Prince Consort, summoning Dr. Ferguson to Osborne House without delay in consequence of the sudden illness of the Hon. Mr. Anson, Her Majesty’s treasurer and His Royal Highness’s private secretary. This event tallies with Simmonite’s astrological calculation of “Sickness in the Royal Household.“ Have done nothing to-day out of the way of business.”
“April 14. Have found today the required intervals of time for setting to music a song in B flat entitled The Exile’s Return, intended for publication in the National Melodist. This reminds me that in the said work there have already appeared from my pen the songs All Hail Happy Meeting, Before and After Marriage, Have ye faith in One Another, My Meerschaum Bowl, Sing me the Songs of Other Days, §¢.”
“April 15. Went, this day, by the 5 o'clock train to Polegate, thence to Milton street, for the purpose of serving & County-Court notice on a Mr. Richard Levett for a new trial between himself and a relation of mine. This trial had reference to an action brought by the said Richard Levett against my friend for certain moneys that had long since been paid to the plaintiff, but in consequence of the supposed clearness of the case and the honest conviction of the defendant that the plaintiff had no claim upon him, legal advice was not sought in aid of my friend’s cause, and the result was that the plaintiff obtained an unjust judgment by swearing to several misstatements against the defendant The circumstances of the case were, however, so well known to many persons, that at my suggestion a new trial was asked for and granted. I felt that I could not tolerate what I knew was an injustice, and I resolved at all hazards to render my relative so much assistance as lay in my power to obtain justice. I was to have gone as a witness only to the serving the notice, but wishing to return from Polegate by the next train, and finding that from long illness my companion was unable to travel the distance in the allotted time, I sent him back to an inn at Polegate whilst I pushed forward alone to execute the mission. The weather was enough to damp the courage of stouter hearts than mine, but with resolute effort on I went through wind, hail and rain, accomplishing the distance of nearly eight miles in 82 minutes. Thus, on my return to Polegate I had three quarters of an hour for rest and refreshment previous to the arrival of the train.”
“May 22. The second hearing of the case against my friend has taken place this day, the plaintiff being obliged to admit that he had no proper entry of his claim in his books, and that several of his previous statements were mistakes, whilst for the defendant several witnesses declared that they had seen the value of the goods paid in money to the plaintiff. The Judge, who had previously decided the case against my friend, now reversed the judgment, and after admonishing the plaintiff for his misstatements, mulcted him of the costs of both trials, and saved the defendant from having. to submit to an unjust demand The writer takes credit for having performed at least one good action in his life.“
June 7th. Wrote the music of “An English Christmas Home” to the words by Eliza Cook; also “The Song of St. Leonards,” to the words by R. Madden, Esq. I, carried on as usual my several employments of shop-keeper, schoolmaster and bandmaster, the working length of the day being from 5 in the morning till midnight.
More Extracts - Murder of a Cook
June 8th. Sent for publication, and which appeared next day in the Hastings News, the following Ode to Music, together with a prose introduction, which latter is here omitted:-
The man who does not music love
Has faint ideas of joys above
178 St
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