in May 1788, what it would have been inconvenient to put forth in print.
“A friend of mine read me yesterday part of a letter of a lady from Lichfield who is in great wrath at Mrs. Gastrell, whom she describes as little better than a fiend. Having had some disagreement with a lady to whom she had let a place, called I think Stow Hill in the neighbourhood of Lichfield, she has turned her out, and resolved that the poor, to whom this lady was very charitable, shall not derive any benefit from any inhabitant of that house; for that it never shall be let again, but remain empty. The rent was, it seems, one hundred guineas a year. The writer of this letter speaks of it as a known thing—that it was this lady and not her husband who cut down the celebrated Mulberry Tree. Perhaps she was only an accomplice. If this Lichfield story is not exaggerated, this lady and her husband seem to have been well-matched.”
Correspondence with Mr. Davenport drew attention from one of his humbler neighbours, Mr. John Jordan, a carpenter and wheelwright, commonly known there as the “Poet.” What his productions were I have not seen.[1] But his tastes rose above his occupations. He amused himself with the study of ancient memorials, inscriptions, ballads, family anecdotes, and such similar lore as may flash across the path, or enliven the hours of a rural genius. But more especially was he devoted to such points as were
- ↑ Mr. Halliwell obligingly informs me that he published a poem, Welcombe Hills, in 4to, about 1770, anonymously. He is not aware of anything else of his in print.
