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a want of clearness in arrangement, there not being a title, except the title-page, in the whole pamphlet; and, next, a total silence in regard to the influence of political and mercantile causes, in originating the unfortunate over-issue of Bank of England notes. No notice is taken of the important fact, that the first great addition to the stock in circulation was called out by the wants of our commerce in 1799; nor is any mention made of the share which the suspension of the American trade to the continent has had in producing the present melancholy conjuncture. These are drawbacks from the merit of this publication: but still it is likely to be productive of great good. The station and character of the author will ensure it a very extensive circulation; since many readers will run through with avidity the effusions of a public man, who would not undertake to travel over a finished composition by an unknown author. The nature of Mr. Huskisson's style, which is always clear and not unfrequently eloquent, will co-operate to the same end; so that, taking all circumstances into consideration, we are inclined to consider the present tract as a powerful instrument for the dissemination of salutary truths.

The able pamphlet of Mr. Blake, on the subject of Exchange, appeared before the essay of Mr. Huskisson, and is quoted in it with praise. As being prior in time, we intended to have given it priority of notice: but we find our account of each extending so far, that we cannot make room for both in this number, and the more general interest of Mr. H.'s work induces us to give it the preference. We shall pay our respects to Mr. Blake in our next Review.

ART. XIII. A Trip to Coatham, a Watering Place in the North Extremity of Yorkshire. By W. Hutton, F.A.S.S. 8vo. pp.317. 9s. Boards. Nichols and Son. 1810.

ATRIP, on the light fantastic toe, by an octogenaire! Weight

of years has not oppressed Mr. Hutton's spirits. Not one young man in a hundred is half so sprightly; and perhaps from all the Society of Antiquaries not another member could be selected, who has such a knack of rendering the study of antiquities so piquant. We once inadvertently announced Mr. Hutton as no more: but he has given it under his hand that he is not only alive but alert, and has proved that as a companion on a tour he is worth a whole college. —Now, old friend, will this puff please you? Will this sugar-plumb make amends for our having once killed you before your time? If you are not satisfied, we must be jocose, and call you a man of Gothan

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Gotham instead of Coatham : but we cannot find it in our hearts to abuse you indeed, if we were to represent you as a dull prosing old fellow, we shold lose more than we could gain by the experiment; and therefore, whether you are angry or pleased, you shall stand in our pages as a merry old grig, and, if we cannot prevail on the public to laugh with you, we will avail ourselves of this privilege, which to us, harassed and vexed as we are, is "worth a Jew's eye."

Mr. Hutton having agreed with his daughter to pass a part of the summer of the year 1808 at the watering-place mentioned in the title, they quitted Birmingham, August 7th, for this purpose: but, before he gives us an account of his trip, he indulges a satiric fling at the modern rage for wateringplaces :

The prevailing taste of the day is to visit a watering-place. Many useful or imaginary purposes are answered by this fashionable pursuit. Here the youth of both sexes exhibit their charms; the result is, some may catch a fortune, and some spend one. Some go for amusement, and some for gambling. The Doctor sends his patients to the waters to prevent the disgrace of killing them.

But though the two leading motives are, pleasure and health; yet alas, it often happens we seek what we cannot find. This is but too aptly the case of my poor daughter, who has often tried it for health, but never found more than a temporary relief'

The tourist takes notice of the places which lay in his route: but he gives bold sketches, in the style of a mannerist, rather than regular descriptions; and whenever he introduces history and antiquities, his spirited reflections make us amends for tales which we have heard before. Alfreton (Alfred's town), Cheterfield, Sheffield, Barnsley, Wakefield, Chapel, Hounslet, and Leeds, first occur. From Leeds, Mr. H. proceeded to . Harewood, Harrogate, Ripley, and Ripon ; and at the last mentioned place we are introduced to the history of St. Wilfred, who, as he remarks, was a priest who rose into saintship by luxury and pride, in a religion which condemns both.'

At Northallerton, Mr. H. plays the egotist, and talks of his ancestors: but no one will accuse him of family pride:

This town, two hundred years ago, was the residence of my family. My grandfather's grandfather was a native, and enjoyed the capital honour of furnishing the place with hats. Walking in the church yard, it occurred to my thoughts that I might be treading upon the dust of my ancestors; and, being myself indisposed while there, thought I might possibly leave my dust to mix with theirs. • I inquired after my relations, but found the name was extinct*.' Busby

Yet, in a subsequent part of the work, he would make it appear that his family is as respectable for antiquity as any other. Thus: · As

Busby Hall is marked by the following anecdote, which is told in the author's peculiar manner :

In our way from Northallerton to Stokesley, we pass by Busby Hall, where resided a widow lady, named Turner, who held the Estate, which is large, in her own right. She had one daughter, whom she tortured for her amusement; instead of kindness she bestowed pinches, and instead of smiles pricked her with pins.

The father of the present Sir Thomas Gascoigne, and several other Baronets, would have offered her their hands; but the mother would not suffer it, for this cogent reason, that the daughter would have been a Lady, and she herself only Mistress Turner.

The young lady afterwards placed her affections upon a Dutch officer, of the name of Straubenzie, and married him (perhaps this occurred in the year 1745, when the Dutch came over). The old lady was now so exasperated that she would not see her daughter, forgetting that the daughter did not degrade herself to his rank, but elevated him to her own. The mother, however, could not be reconciled.

This union produced two sons. The prospect before the family was poverty; not a ray of comfort could be seen. The mother had completely learned the arts of reproof and of punishment, but had never learnt that of forgiveness. No doubt, peace was as much a stranger to her mind, as to her daughter's. The wind cannot make a rough sea, without being rough itself


By the interposition of some friends, the children were introduced to their grandmother, who took them into favour, consented to keep them, and leave them the estate, on one trifling condition; that the children should swear never to see their mother, and she should swear never to see them. This the children could not do, and their mother would not. The refusal of the daughter ought to have pleaded her forgiveness, as it displayed the laudable tenderness of parental affection; but what can sotten a rock ?

The old woman, however, suffered the two boys to remain with her, and without goading or tweaking them, till maternal fondness induced their mother, one Sunday morning, to steel a peep, out of a window in Stokesley, to see her sons go to church; which dreadful crime coming to the knowledge of the old lady, she discarded them for ever.

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As every man had a father and mother, he is descended from two families; carry his pedigree one stage higher, and it brings under our banner four families. His great-grandfather, eight, who are his predecessors. One stage more, sixteen, &c. The luxuriant branches of this fruitful tree would quickly spread over a kingdom; and he would find himself descended from Britons, Romans, Saxons, Danes, and Normans. How then can 1 tell but two of my ancestors trod this very ground, as enemies to each other, one a resident in Isurium, and the other the bearer of a lighted faggot to burn his house!'

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She then offered the reversion of her estate to a gentleman, who replied, " If you leave it to me, I will give it to Mr. Straubenzie." Thus he honourably cut himself off. She then offered it to several others, who declined it with thanks.

She then advertised it, not for sale, but for gift. At length a gentleman, whose name I have forgotten, accepted the offer upon her own terms. This gentleman, I am informed, had five or six brothers; and for fear the property should, in future, revert to her own family, she entailed the estate upon every one of them and their heirs, according to priority.

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Anxiety shortened the days of the daughter, and the Heir at Law keeps the House of Correction at Wakefield.

I apprehend a parallel case cannot be found in the history of man; for the female breast is ever open to pity towards its offspring. We read of harsh fathers; but where can be found such a mother?

I have not the pleasure of knowing any of the unfortunate descendants of this unworthy mother, but am told they bear a most respectable character.

Pity will find, and weep over this ill-treated family. It will create friends in their favour.

There is reason to conclude, the young lady had not one enemy, except that mother who ought to have been her firmest friend.

A mother is generally the greatest blessing to a daughter; but in our present case she proved the greatest curse. She knew her power, and resolved to shew it; because she possessed it. She grasped the fatal bolt, and aimed destruction at her daughter with full effect.

A father has been known to wrong his children, by melting down a fortune in the bottle, or by dashing it to pieces upon a gaming-table, yet seldom out of revenge; still seldomer a mother.

Had the old lady been able to reason, she might fairly have concluded, that the persons to whom she gave the estate would despise her for the gift.

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Perhaps the mother, had she power, would have consigned her daughter to eternal punishment, or why did she punish her here? But if it be true, as some Divines tell us, that future misery will consist in self-tormentings; then if the mother had examined her own heart, she might have found the word Hell written within.'

After a journey of 184 miles, Mr. H. at last arrives at Coatham, a place which is not to be found mentioned in Speed, Camden, Bloom, nor Gough, and he prides himself in having the honour of being its first historian. The inhabitants of this and the contiguous village of Redcar may feel themselves obliged by this attempt to bring their accommodations into notice but, though Mr. H. commends the salubrity of the air and the beauty of the surrounding prospects, the majority of the frequenters of watering-places will not be induced by his bill of fare to relinquish Brighton, Margate, Ramsgate, Weymouth, Worthing, &c. for Coatham and Redcar. the reader judge;


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These two hamlets, an age back, could have been no more than small fishing-places; which instead of being known one hundred miles off, were scarcely known by their neighbours.

Most of their old white-washed houses have low buildings in their front which not only serve for washing, baking, the reception of lumber, &c. but for two other purposes, preventing the drift sand from penetrating the inner parts, and as a barricade against the keen Northern winds. To complete this barricade, they open but one pane in their window; thus they avoid, as an enemy, that sea wind, which the stranger, at a great expence, comes to breathe.

I thought there was something very respectable in the character of the lower ranks. I was in many of their mud-wall dwellings, and found them clean and orderly, as if conducted by the hand of prudence. Their persons and manners were in the same style, also those of their children. I do not remember seeing a ragged person. It brought to mind antient times of simplicity, before luxury had made inroads, and ambition had dazzled us.

The two streets of Coatham and Redcar are covered with moun tains of drift sand, blown by the North-west winds from the shore, which almost forbid the foot; no carriage above a wheel barrow

ought to venture. It is labour to walk. If a man wants a perspiring dose, he may procure one by travelling through these two streets, and save his half-crown from the Doctor. He may sport white stockings every day in the year, for they are without dirt; nor will the pavement offend his corns. The sand beds are in some places as high as the eaves of the houses. Some of the inhabitants are obliged every morning to clear their door-way, which becomes a pit, unpleasant to the house keeper, and dangerous to the traveller.

• I asked a woman of 61, whether this evil always existed? who replied, she remembered the streets perfectly clear. Another inhabitant observed, if the people would clear the sand away once in seven years, it would completely answer the end. It is an old remark, "What is every body's business is nobody's ;" which is completely verified here. As Lord Dundas is Lord of the Manor of Redcar, and Sir Charles Turner, of Coatham; their exertions their tenants would complete the work.


Lord Dundas encourages population by selling to his tenants their front land for building, at three guineas a yard, including the back land, twenty or thirty yards deep; but formerly at one guinea a yard. I should proceed upon a different plan, more favourable to building, and profitable to both.


"Coatham is in the Parish of Kirk-leatham, nearly two miles distant; and Redcar in that of Marsk, more than three.

The amusements are yet in a confined state; but will advance as the credit of the place advances. The billiard-table has not made its appearance; the tennis-court is not erected; the skittle-alley and the butts are not begun; nor has the bowling-green skewed its face. Quoits are in tune; but this is rather a Butcher's game, although an healthful one. The visitants are amused at present with the sands and the sea in the day, and with cards at night.


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