Liverpool a few years since: by an old stager

Liverpool a few years since: by an old stager

The original intention of the Author was to amuse the younger readers of the Albion, by dashing off a few sketches of men and things, as he recollects them in Liverpool a few years since. For this purpose all that was worth telling, he thought, might be comprised in about two papers, or chapters. The public, however, like hungry Oliver Twist, revelling on the thin workhouse gruel, flatteringly asked for more; and with this request he, not being of a nature akin to that of Mr. Bumble, has willingly complied to the extent of his ability. Nor is this all for which the naughty public is to be held responsible. The chapters having been spun out to the length which they now occupy, greedy Oliver again cries out for more, and demands that, instead of being left to die out, and be forgotten, as the ephemeral occupants of the columns of a newspaper, they shall be collected, and re-published in a more abiding form; and once more our good nature triumphs over our prudence, and we comply. Under such circumstances, the writer of these sketches and reminiscences p. xvneither courts nor deprecates criticism; his only object in perpetrating these trifles light as air was, he repeats, to set before the rising generation a picture of the good old town, at the commencement of the present century, and to show them how men and manners, and customs and fashions, have changed since the times in which their grandfathers ruled the roast, and were the heroes of the day. In working out this design, the Author has had neither dates nor memoranda to refer to, but has trusted entirely to his own powers of recollection, even as far back as the period when he reached the mature age of six years! It is satisfactory, however, to add that, although he has painted wholly from memory, no one has yet disputed the accuracy of any of the characters which he has drawn, the events which he has related, or the anecdotes which he has revived. This may be fairly assumed as a testimony in favour of their correctness. For the rest, he has only once more to say, with Horace, Non meus hic sermo, etc.; that is, our re-appearance is no fault of our own. Oliver Twist has done it all, and must bear the blame. Liverpool, October, 1852. e are not great at statistics. We do not pretend to be accurate to an hour in dates, chronology, and so forth. We write, indeed, entirely from memory, and therefore may perhaps occasionally go wrong in fixing the hour for the man, and the man for the hour, as we dot down a few of our recollections of the good old town of Liverpool, from the time when we cast off our swaddling clothes, crept out of our cradle, opened our eyes, and began to exercise our reasoning powers on men and things as in those days they presented themselves to our view. We think that our memory has a faint glimmering of the illuminations which took place when peace was made with Napoleon, in 1801. We also remember being called out of our bed to gaze at the terrible flames when the Goree warehouses were burnt down, and how we crept out of the house at day dawn, and rushed to see the blazing mass and all its tottering ruins in dangerous proximity. ......Buy Now (To Read More)

Product details

Ebook Number: 40732
Author: Aspinall, James
Release Date: Sep 11, 2012
Format: eBook
Language: English