"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar :

Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy."

Having said thus much of my parentage and pedigree, I come now to speak of myself. I was born at Canterbury in 1817, and am a "Man of Kent." It is scarcely necessary to remind my readers that in what are called "the good old times," that city was the metropolis of the kings of Kent. The learned tell us that Canterbury is derived from Durwhern (Dur-Gwern, river of marshes, mead, or alders), latinised Durovernum; and it was also denominated in the ancient British language, Caer Cient, or City of Kent; and in Anglo-Saxon, Cant-wara-byrig, City of the Men of Kent.

The Civic Government of Canterbury is very ancient, as the city archives testify: those documents, so carefully preserved by our forefathers, offer a rich field for the antiquarian. Not long since some highly interesting particulars relating to the manners and customs of the early Canterburians were brought to light by a very competent hand, Mr. Thomas Wright; and good service has also been rendered in this respect by an accomplished citizen of Canterbury, Mr. John Brent, the younger.

Much has been said, and not a little written, by those interested in matters of this nature, as to the origin of, and distinction between, " Men of Kent," and " Kentish Men." Having taken some pains to examine the question, I suspect the real origin of the terms to have been to distinguish any man, whose family had long been settled in the county, from time immemorial it may be, from new settlers;

the former being genuine " Men of Kent," the latter only "Kentish Men." The West Kent men, according to tradition, are styled "Kentish Men;" while those of East Kent are more emphatically denominated" Men of Kent."* Believing that nothing is trivial in the formation of character, I may mention that my parents were members of the Church of England, and that my mother was particularly careful to bring me up in the religious observance of all the ceremonials of that communion. While she was ever mindful to instil into me from my earliest days, in common with my brothers and sisters, the love of God and of goodness, all this was done in connection with, what I may call, the domestic requirements of the Established Church. We were all in our infancy duly taken to the baptismal font, and as soon as we could be taught anything formally, the catechism of that Church was most assiduously inculcated upon us.

As soon as we were able to walk we were taken to the parish church; and well do I now remember the high boxedup pews that hid from us altogether the surrounding congregation, and only when we were lifted up to stand upon the seats, could we get a glimpse of the parson. The peculiar close and fusty smell of that old church I have never thoroughly got rid of. The morning service of the Church of England is very long and tedious even to an adult, and how little children are kept at all quiet during its performance is to me a wonder. Many a time, as the communion service and the sermon came, have I begged leave to sit down upon the reed hassock that I might lay my head down upon the comfortably stuffed green-baise seat and take a little nap. I was always sure to wake in

Should the reader be desirous of pursuing this question any further, he will find some particulars in "Notes and Queries," Vol. v. p. 615; and also, in a work by the late Charles Sandys, Esq., of Canterbury, entitled, "Consuetudines Kantiæ;" see also a highly interesting little volume lately published, "Canterbury in the Olden Time," by John Brent, junior

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Early training.

time, as I had a great horror of being left in the church. When from any cause I could not get my accustomed nap, I was much amused in looking up at the hatchments that adorned the white-washed walls of the sacred building. I recollect very often spelling out that rather long word RESURGAM," wondering what in the world it could mean; and when I whispered my wonderment to my mother she would put her finger to her mouth, and with a reverend shake of the head, place her hand gently on my shoulder and bid me sit still, and be a good boy. Altogether the service at church was a very slow affair; there was no "high embowed roof," no "storied windows richly dight, casting a dim religious light," no "pealing organ," no "anthems clear:" the service was tediously long, bald, and cold; and the attempts at psalmody were such as did not endear good old Tate and Brady to my juvenile recollections. Right glad was I always when the vicar wound up his dry and unimpassioned sermon of forty minutes with the welcome words, " Now to God the Father," &c, which was a signal for us to get ourselves into marching order, and once more breathe the pure sweet air of the bright and cheerful street.

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The Sunday afternoons were generally spent in reading aloud the Scriptures, learning the collect for the day, and never omitting the catechism, every part of which is fresh in my recollection to this day. Sometimes my dear mother would read to us a chapter from "The Whole Duty of Man," a well-bound volume, frequently found in those days in close proximity to the Bible in most families connected with the Church of England. I do most cheerfully bear my willing testimony to the constant and unremitting care of my father and mother to bring us up in the faith and practice of the Church of our forefathers, and also to illustrate their teaching by consistent example.

II.

BOYHOOD: SCHOOL-DAYS, AND YOUTHFUL FOLLIES.

"Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing boy,

But he beholds the light, and whence it flows
He sees it in his joy;

The youth who daily farther from the East
Must travel, still is nature's priest,
And by the vision splendid

Is on his way attended;

At length the man perceives it die away
And fade into the light of common day."

N looking back upon the home of my childhood and early school life, I cannot but be struck with the inseparable connection existing between these two important periods

in the history of a child; and yet they are for the most part spoken of and treated separately. Home itself must be a school; and the school, if it is to be of salutary use in forming the moral, as well as the mental man, must be a home.

The education of a child begins on the mother's bosom, or upon her knees, as it prattles around the household hearth, and is daily and hourly influenced by all that it hears and sees. It begins with the earliest dawning of the intellectual powers, before we perceive the difference between looks, and words, and actions. How responsible

then is the position of parents for the first impressions made upon the young. Streams of influence flow in upon the child, every one of which will work its own result in moulding the future character. Happy is the child that is born into a family where the parents are distinguished by culture and intelligence; and where tenderness, high moral feeling, and good sense is the atmosphere breathed around.

Parents are very properly careful about the food that their children partake of, but how much more careful should they be of the example placed before them; of the books they read; and also of the companions they associate with.

I think also that children should from their earliest days have " no place like home:" suitable amusements should ever be combined with early teaching, as much of the restlessness which characterizes children is attributable mainly to their not being wisely instructed and entertained in the home circle.

I was allowed to run about pretty much as I liked till I was five or six years old, when I was sent to what was then called a Dame's School. I have a most affectionate remembrance of the kind and patient treatment of the lady to whose care I was entrusted for my early education. She quite won my young heart by her gentle manners and loving disposition, and was the first out of my own family to call forth that desire to please, which I have cultivated in after life, especially in reference to those whom Burns denominates "the blood-royal of life." I feel it to be strictly true in my own case, that

"The earliest wish I ever knew

Was woman's kind regard to win;
I felt it long ere passion grew,
Ere such a wish could be a sin."

Parents are not careful enough in ascertaining the character and disposition of those to whom they confide their children. Some people have an idea that the child must be treated harshly and rudely, to develope a rough