Evening shadows wrap them round;
And the hearse-like trees at night
Stand against the silent sky,

Where the stars, with borrow'd light,
Whisper in the ear of Sorrow

Of a sun shall rise to-morrow.

Dust to dust! they lay him down;
In Death's harvest-field he sleeps,
Where the river of his love

Round his sacred ashes sweeps-
Where, afar, his bed embowering,

Cleveland, thy fair hills are towering."

From Hareshaw Burn, Evening on Hexham "Seal," and other Poems, printed, "for private distribution," in 1861, passing by some excellent pieces which I hope to be able to quote in others of my local works, I copy

"THE CHURCH AND THE MILL.

* Ralph Ward Jackson, Esq., Founder of West Hartlepool.

HENRY HEAVISIDES.

"The Bard of Home, though old in years,

In heart is still as young

As when he first a-wooing went,
And wedlocks praises sung."

FLORENCE CLEVELAND.

Few of the bards or other authors of Cleveland or of South Durham are better entitled to a niche in our local Pantheon than honest, manly Henry Heavisides; who, through a long and industrious life, has cultivated music and poetry as the solace of his leisure, and ever steered clear of that fatal error, that a man of genius must neglect the ordinary duties of life for the ephemeral excitement of dissipation. Both by precept and example, he has taught his brother working-men how to rise from their down-trodden condition; and, after those trials which all true labourers for the cause of Progress ever have to encounter, he has won for himself the esteem of all who know him, both as a man and a poet.

Henry Heavisides was born at Darlington, on the twentyninth of November, 1791; at which place his father was at that time conducting a respectable business as printer and bookseller. Michael Heavisides, the father of the poet, was a native of Norton, near Stockton-on-Tees, but the family had for some time resided at Billingham, in which churchyard I have seen more than one tombstone to their memories. In January, 1791, the Darlington bookseller married Miss Mary Marsh, an accomplished young lady of respectable connections,* a native of Croyden in Surrey, who had been for two

*She was the daughter of a lieutenant in the royal navy. Her brother, Lieut. John Marsh, also in the royal navy, was killed during the French war, in an action, off the West Indies, with a French privateer. Her uncle, Capt. H. Marsh, likewise of the royal navy, after being in the service some years, was appointed, in 1753, to command one of the royal yachts at Deptford; and on

years governess to the children of Bishop Thurlow, at BishopAuckland, and was the authoress of several productions, both in verse and prose. Besides the instruction given by that best of all teachers, a good mother (and before we can materially elevate the masses we must elevate the mothers), "the Bard of Home" was educated at the grammar-school of his native place, then conducted by the Rev. William Clementson, an excellent master and good Greek and Latin scholar. He was apprenticed to his father, who, through ill-health and various difficulties, ultimately declined business; and consequently, at twenty years of age, our author left Darlington, to make his way in the world as best he could. In a touching little prose paper, communicated some years ago to the Stockton and Darlington Times, he thus refers to his boyish recollections:

"It is now many, many years since we learnt to conjugate Latin verbs at the old Grammar School, in Darlington, then decorated, we well remember, with a full length portrait of the frilled and furbellowed good Queen Bess,' of blessed memory. The head teacher, then, at that useful seminary, was the Rev. William Clementson, who, for his extensive classical knowledge and the simplicity of his manners, bore a strong resemblance to the well-known Parson Adams, whose character has been so inimitably drawn by the powerful pencil of Fielding.

At that period, when we enjoyed, in all its delightful freshness, the gay spring-time of life, there was not a nook in the good town of Darlington, and the pretty woodlands in its vicinity, with which we were not intimately acquainted. Even at this moment, that town and 'all the country round' bring to our memory a thousand dear recollections and old associations, and as we now muse upon them, we feelingly exclaim, 'Scenes of our early days, ye still are in our remembrance! Yes, we still can recal our once pleasant strolls along the sedgy margin of the Skerne, our frequent rambles in the green waving woods' of Baydales, and even the intrepidity we once displayed by swimming those imaginary bottomless pits the far-famed Hell Kettles-a feat which we then, in our boyish days, were as proud of as was the immortal Byron, when, at a later period, he swam the broad Hellespont, and caught an ague in accomplishing the daring exploit.

About thirty years ago, being then in the prime of manhood, we left Darlington, casting many a long and lingering look' on our 'old house at home,' and the scenes we had beheld and loved in our boyhood. Since then, however, we have lived to see strange things come to pass, not only in the world at large, but even in South Durham-things that our forefathers never dreamt nor had the least idea of. Well may it be said, that 'Time works wonders.' As it rolls onward in its resistless course, how strikingly it develops to us the his appointment he removed with his family to Greenwich, where he died in 1772. John Marsh, Esq., the celebrated musical amateur and Major of volunteers at Chichester (of whom there is a long memoir in the Biographical Dictionary of Musicians), was the eldest son of Capt. H. Marsh.

astonishing powers of the human intellect! To bear out the truth of this remark, we need only refer to the discoveries which have, of late years, been made in mechanical science, producing such extraordinary results that this may truly be called the age of miracles. By these discoveries the greatest difficulties have been surmounted, the most seeming impossibilities achieved, so that the new and wonderful impulses they have given to British energy and enterprise have completely metamorphosed the old state of things, and been the means of directing the principal operations of trade and commerce into a variety of other channels.

*

While dwelling upon these reminiscences, we cannot conclude without once more reverting to our native place, Darlington, which, after many years of absence, we lately visited for a few hours. We cannot forget the deep emotion we felt when we beheld the old grey church still 'pointing its finger to heaven,' and the old stone bridge yet bestriding the placid Skerne, where every scene recalled some gentle memory. Here we stood and mused, and then slowly passing on, we contemplated the mighty changes worked by the busy hand of Improvement. All appeared new to us, especially the shops, above which we looked in vain for the names of our old familiars. Death had been busy amongst them, as we soon found on visiting the old church-yard. How wonderful the changes in a few years! We pondered on the thought as we wandered through the streets and met no old acquaintance. Hundreds passed by us in quick succession, but amongst them we saw not an old familiar face.' We felt, as it were, alone in the crowd, a solitary stranger, unknown and unnoticed in the very town where once we knew every one, and every one knew us, and at that moment mentally exclaimed, in the words of Byron

-'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
And roam along, the world's tired denizen,
With none to bless us, none whom we can bless;
Minions of splendour, shrinking from distress,
None that, with kindred consciousness endued,
If we were not, would seem to smile the less
Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought and sued ;
This is to be alone; this, this is solitude!'

Childe Harold, canto 2."

Our author first worked as a journeyman printer with Mr. William Pratt, who then carried on an extensive business in the number trade, at Stokesley; and whilst there was married to Miss Jane Bradley, of that place. He next got employment on the Hull Packet, then published by Mr. Peck. From the Hull Packet he went to the Leeds Mercury office, where he worked for some time for the late Edward Baines, the historian of Lancashire, and afterwards member for Leeds. He afterwards worked for a short time at Bradford; and ultimately settled, in 1814, at Stockton-on-Tees, where he was employed as foreman, in the printing establishment of Messrs. Jennett & Co. for the very long period of forty-two years. In 1857, he commenced business on his own account, as a printer

and stationer, at No. 4, Finkle-street, Stockton, where he has been very fairly patronised by the public, with whom he has ever been a favourite. The high estimation in which he is held in his adopted town was proved on the twenty-ninth of March, 1847, when an excellent portrait of himself, painted in oil, in a superior style; by Mr. James Hume Taylor, was publicly presented to him, by the mayor,—the elegant gilt frame bearing a brass plate with the following inscription engraved thereon:-" Presented to Henry Heavisides, author of The Pleasures of Home, &c., by John Crosby, Esq., Mayor of Stockton, on behalf of the Subscribers, as a small token of their high respect and esteem for his Literary Genius and Attainments. Stockton, March, 1847." But the reader must hot imagine that "the Bard of Home" has had all sunshine; ho; clouds and shadows have at times darkened his path through life; for, as SHAKSPERE* tells us," the web of our life is of a mingled yarn;" and, as Henry Heavisides from his his youth was a warm advocate for constitutional reform; during the dark days of the two last Georges; he was more than once in danger of losing his situation for conscience sake: On one occasion, when he had been taking one of his daily walks into the country, he found a number of his fellowtownsmen assembled in an open air meeting, who, having been disappointed in the attendance of a political speaker, begged of him to address them, when he advised them to subscribe their pence, to rent a room and purchase books, and form themselves into a society for mutual mental improvement (what would now be called a mechanics' institute), for which, I am told, he was denounced in the newspapers of the boroughmongers as a "black-avised man," and all sorts of uncharitable things said about him. But when the Reform Bill of 1832 became the law of the land; and so happily saved this country from a bloody revolution, and the inhabitants of Stockton celebrated the important event with music, and banners, and peals on the church bells, and firing of cannon, and a grand public procession headed by the chief magistrate of tlie borough, and a dinner in the Green, of which more than seventeen hun'dred persons partook, and toasts and speeches were the order of the day; then some of the unprincipled paltroons who had opposed all reform all their lives, and most unrelentingly *As You Like It, act iv., scene 3rd,—one of the sweetest things ever written.