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Updated: May 7, 2025
In my opinion, what holds good for one language holds good equally for another, and I no more regret the time spent on English versification than a Latin scholar would regret his imitations of Virgil. Perhaps the reader may like to see a specimen of my boyish attempts, so I will print an extract from one, a poem that won a prize at Burnley School in the year 1847.
He gave Ben the paper, and whispered, "Be off before he changes his mind." "You'll hear of an accident in the mine before the day is over," said Burnley, and he went off without a grain of remorse under the double stimulus of revenge and lucre. "He'll do it," cried Monckton, triumphantly, "and Hope will end his days in the Bartley mine."
My younger son came to reside at Burnley while I was there, and we had frequent talks as we walked together along the fields and lanes, and over the neighboring hills; and this also helped to bring me nearer to Christ and His Church. I read the works of Epictetus at this time, and my faith in God and immortality, and my love of virtue too, were strengthened by his reasonings.
There was Major Burnley, who lived for years and years in the same house with the wife with whom he had quarreled and never spoke a word to her or she to him. But the list is overlong for calling. With us, in that day and time, town characters abounded freely. But Mr. Dudley Stackpole was more than a town character.
Gratton comes from the south; he was in the Royal Fusiliers as a Tommy. Halstead comes from Haslingden; he is a very decent, calm, fellow. He is married. Giffin comes from Burnley. He is about my age. Gratton is twenty-seven. The two latter were on leave when I arrived. "Two new officers have recently arrived from Scarborough Walsh and Hickey.
The wages are similar in the Burnley district, where food, drink, and dress absorb the greater part of the workpeople's earnings. Another reporter says, "Wages are increasing: as there is more money, and more time to spend it in, sobriety is not on the increase, especially amongst females."
The fighting-machine pilot is Lieutenant Burnley; the observer, shot through the hand, but cheerful, is Captain Forsyn. "Did ye no' feel a sense o' gratitude to the Almighty when you kent it were Tam sittin' aloft like a wee angel?" "I thought it was a bombing machine that had come back," said Burnley untruthfully. "Did ye hear that, sir-rs?" asked Tam wrathfully.
On the left, some half-dozen miles off, lay Burnley, and the greater part of the land in this direction, being uninclosed and thinly peopled, had a dark dreary look, that served to enhance the green beauty of the well-cultivated district on the right.
Black moor, bleak fell, straggling forest, intersected with sullen streams as black as ink, with here and there a small tarn, or moss-pool, with waters of the same hue these constituted the chief features of the scene. The whole district was barren and thinly-populated. Of towns, only Clithero, Colne, and Burnley the latter little more than a village were in view.
He went softly, like a cat, to Ben Burnley and said, "If an accident does occur, and that man never comes up again, you are to have five hundred pounds." "Five hundred pounds!" shouted Ben. "I do t' job. Nay, nay, but," said he, and his countenance fell, "they will not let me go down the mine." The diabolical agent went cat-like to Bartley.
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