0 and
and 90; Mrs. Allen, 92; Mrs. Silk, 84; John Burbury, 84; Thomas Rutter,
88; Elizabeth Bentley, 88; John Harrison and his wife, one 86, the other
88; Mrs. Floyd, 87; Elizabeth Simms, 88; Sarah Aston, 98; Isaac Spooner,
Esq; 89; Joseph Scott, Esq; 94; all at this day, January 9, 1780, I
believe enjoy health and capacity. This is not designed as a complete
list of the aged, but of such only as immediately occur to memory. I
also knew a John England who died at the age of 89; Hugh Vincent, 94;
John Pitt, 100; George Bridgens, 103; Mrs. More, 104. An old fellow
assured me he had kept the market 77 years: he kept it for several years
after to my knowledge. At 90 he was attacked by an acute disorder, but,
fortunately for himself, being too poor to purchase medical assistance,
he was left to the care of nature, who opened that door to health which
the physician would have locked for ever. At 106 I heard him swear with
all the fervency of a recruit: at 107 he died. It is easy to give
instances of people who have breathed the smoak of Birmingham for
threescore years, and yet have scarcely left the precincts of of youth.
Such are the happy effects of constitution, temper, and conduct!

_Ancient State of Birmingham_.

We have now to pass through the very remote ages of time, without staff
to support us, without light to conduct us, or hand to guide us. The way
is long, dark, and slippery. The credit of an historian is built upon
truth; he cannot assert, without giving his facts; he cannot surmise,
without giving his reasons; he must relate things as they are, not as he
would have them. The fabric founded in error will moulder of itself, but
that founded in reality will stand the age and the critic.

Except half a dozen pages in Dugdale, I know of no author who hath
professedly treated of Birmingham. None of the histories which I have
seen bestow upon it more than a few lines, in which we are sure to be
treated with the noise of hammers and anvils; as if the historian
thought us a race of dealers in thunder, lightning, and wind; or
infernals, puffing in blast and smoak.

Suffer me to transcribe a passage from Leland, one of our most
celebrated writers, employed by Henry the VIIIth to form an itinerary of
Britain, whose works have stood the test of 250 years. We shall observe
how much he erred for want of information, and how natural for his
successors to copy him.

"I came through a pretty street as ever I entered, in