DANES CAMP: 

DANES BANK, OR BURY FIELDS.

About five miles south of Birmingham, and five furlongs off Solihull Lodge, is a place called The Danes Camp.  But although neither history nor tradition speak of this particular event, it probably was raised in the ninth century.

The situation is well chosen, upon an eminence, about nine acres, nearly triangular, is yet in tolerable perfection; the ditch is about twenty feet wide; the base of the bank about the same; admits but of one entrance, and is capable of being secured by water.  From the bottom of the ditch, to the top of the mound, was, when made, about twenty feet; and is a production of great labour.

GENTLEMEN’S SEATS.

This neighbourhood may justly be deemed the seat of the arts, but not the seat of the gentry.

None of the nobility are near us, except William Legge, Earl of Dartmouth, at Sandwell, four miles from Birmingham.  The principal houses in our environs, are those of Sir Charles Holte, late member for the county, at Aston; Sir Henry Gough, member for Bamber, at Edgbaston; George Birch, Esq; at Handsworth; John Gough, Esq; at Perry; and John Taylor, Esq; at Bordesley and at Moseley; all joining to the manor of Birmingham.  Exclusive of these, are many elegant retreats of our first inhabitants, acquired by commercial success.

Full fed with vanity is an author, when two readers strive to catch up his work, for the pleasure of perusing it:—­but, perchance, if two readers dip into this chapter, they may strive to lay it down.

I have hitherto written to the world, but now to a small part, the antiquarians; nay, a small part of the sensible part; for a fool and an antiquary is a contradiction:  they are, to a man, people of letters and penetration.  If their judgment is sometimes erroneous, we may consider, man was never designed for perfection; there is also less light to guide them in this, than in other researches.  If the traveller slips upon common ground, how will he fare if he treads upon ice?—­Besides, in dark questions, as in intricate journies, there are many erroneous ways for one right.

If, like the mathematician, he can establish one point, it ascertains another.  We may deem his pursuit one of the most arduous, and attended with the least profit:  his emoluments consist in the returns of pleasure to his own mind.

The historian only collects the matter of the day, and hands it to posterity; but the antiquarian brings his treasures from remote ages, and presents them to this:  he examines forgotten repositories, calls things back into existence, which are past; counter-acts the efforts of time, and of death; possesses something like a re-creative power; collects the dust of departed matter, moulds it into its prestine state, exhibits the figure to view, and stamps it with a kind of immortality.