tion, than in any other place with which
I am acquainted. I am sorry to mutilate the compliment, when I mention
the lower race of the other sex: no lady ought to be publicly insulted,
let her appear in what dress she pleases. Both sexes, however, agree in
exhibiting a mistaken pity, in cases of punishment, particularly by
preventing that for misconduct in the military profession.

It is singular, that a predilection for Birmingham, is entertained by
every denomination of visitants, from Edward Duke of York, who saw us in
1765, down to the presuming quack, who, griped with necessity, boldly
discharges his filth from the stage. A paviour, of the name of Obrien,
assured me in 1750, that he only meant to sleep one night in Birmingham,
in his way from London to Dublin. But instead of pursuing his journey
next morning, as intended, he had continued in the place thirty-five
years: and though fortune had never elevated him above the pebbles of
the street, yet he had never repented his stay.

It has already been remarked that I first saw Birmingham in 1741,
accidentally cast into those regions of civility; equally unknown to
every inhabitant, nor having the least idea of becoming one myself.
Though the reflections of an untaught youth of seventeen cannot be
striking, yet, as they were purely natural, permit me to describe them.

I had been before acquainted with two or three principal towns. The
environs of all I had seen were composed of wretched dwellings, replete
with dirt and poverty; but the buildings in the exterior of Birmingham
rose in a style of elegance. Thatch, so plentiful in other towns, was
not to be met with in this. I was surprised at the place, but more so at
the people: They were a species I had never seen: They possessed a
vivacity I had never beheld: I had been among dreamers, but now I saw
men awake: Their very step along the street showed alacrity: Every man
seemed to know and prosecute his own affairs: The town was large, and
full of inhabitants, and those inhabitants full of industry. I had seen
faces elsewhere tinctured with an idle gloom void of meaning, but here,
with a pleasing alertness: Their appearance was strongly marked with the
modes of civil life: I mixed a variety of company, chiefly of the lower
ranks, and rather as a silent spectator: I was treated with an easy
freedom by all, and with marks of favour by some: Hospitality seemed to
claim this happy people for her own, though I knew not at t