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Trades.

No extensive manufactories in the Borough; yet considerable Fortunes made there—­Ill Judgment of Parents in disposing of their Sons—­The best educated not the most likely to succeed—­Instance—­Want of Success compensated by the lenient Power of some Avocations—­The Naturalist—­The Weaver an Entomologist, &c.—­A Prize Flower—­Story of Walter and William.

Of manufactures, trade, inventions rare,
Steam-towers and looms, you’d know our Borough’s share —
’Tis small:  we boast not these rich subjects here,
Who hazard thrice ten thousand pounds a-year;
We’ve no huge buildings, where incessant noise
Is made by springs and spindles, girls and boys;
Where, ’mid such thundering sounds, the maiden’s song
Is “Harmony in Uproar” all day long. 
   Still common minds with us in common trade,
Have gain’d more wealth than ever student made;
And yet a merchant, when he gives his son
His college-learning, thinks his duty done;
A way to wealth he leaves his boy to find,
Just when he’s made for the discovery blind. 
   Jones and his wife perceived their elder boy
Took to his learning, and it gave them joy;
This they encouraged, and were bless’d to see
Their son a fellow with a high degree;
A living fell, he married, and his sire
Declared ’twas all a father could require;
Children then bless’d them, and when letters came,
The parents proudly told each grandchild’s name. 
   Meantime the sons at home in trade were placed,
Money their object—­just the father’s taste;
Saving he lived and long, and when he died,
He gave them all his fortune to divide: 
“Martin,” said he, “at vast expense was taught;
He gain’d his wish, and has the ease he sought.” 
   Thus the good priest (the Christian scholar!) finds
“What estimate is made by vulgar minds;
He sees his brothers, who had every gift
Of thriving, now assisted in their thrift;
While he, whom learning, habits, all prevent,
Is largely mulct for each impediment. 
   Yet let us own that Trade has much of chance,
Not all the careful by their care advance;
With the same parts and prospects, one a seat
Builds for himself; one finds it in the Fleet. 
Then to the wealthy you will see denied
Comforts and joys that with the poor abide: 
There are who labour through the year, and yet
No more have gain’d than—­not to be in debt: 
Who still maintain the same laborious course,
Yet pleasure hails them from some favourite source,
And health, amusements, children, wife, or friend,
With life’s dull views their consolations blend. 
   Nor these alone possess the lenient power
Of soothing life in the desponding hour;
Some favourite studies, some delightful care,
The mind with trouble and distresses share;
And by a coin, a flower, a verse, a boat,
The stagnant spirits have been set afloat;