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it was here that this stupendous, and almost
omnipotent, machine was first constructed on a
principle, Avhich led to its present state of perfection,
by that extraordinary genius, Mr. James
Watt, the father of the present joint proprietor, with
Mr. Boulton, of the Soho manufactory. Mr. Watt
is the owner of one of the few remaining mansions
erected in the reigns of James and Charles. It is
named Aston Hall, and bears an inscription over
the door, by udiich it appears to have been built
hy Sir Thomas Holte, about two hundred years
mm, being commenced in the reicrn of James, and
finished in that of Charles. In front it has a terrace
400 feet long, and 50 broad, fronting which
within is a panelled gallery, 130 feet in lenorth.
The entrance-hall and state-rooms are very good ;
it stands in a park of considerable extent; and
though so near the noisy and smoky town of Birmingham,
it neither sees nor hears anything of its
smoke, or its noise, nor are any of the multitude
of tall steam-chimneys, which raise their heads into
the air, visible from Aston Hall.
An a,ttack was made on this ancient mansion by
Oliver Crormvell, the traces of whicli still remain;
one of the shot carried away part of the railing of
tl'iC staircase, and lodged in the wall opposite.
The notorious Prince Puckler Aluskau has thought
proper to remark, that the proprietor has had the
bad taste to paint over the shattered part. Setting
aside the question as to good or had taste, the
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shattered part remains just as it was—not painted
over ; he also complains of the want of a fioAver-
garden; whereas there is a very extensive flower-
garden and shrubberies, the latter remarkable,
among other fine plants, for the magnificent rhododendrons
Avith which they are adorned: — so
much for this prince’s accuracy. Air. Watt can
scarcely believe that this person ever set his foot
across the threshold.
An inscription is prominent on one side of the
Hall, conceived in the true old style of the times,
and intended, apparently, as good advice and admonition
to the servants :—
I f service be thy meane to thrive,
Thou must therein remaine,
Both silent, faitlrful, just, and true,
Content to take some paiiie.
I f love of virtue may allure,
Or liope o f worldly gaine,
I f fear o f God may thee procure.
To serve do not disdaine.”
Aiy first object, on reaching Liverpool, was a
visit to the “ Flower of Yarrow.” Aly companions
not having arrived, I took a hasty ramble over this
extraordinary toAvn—the second in commercial importance
in the empire, and bidding fair one day to
be the first. Already, indeed, its capacious docks,
stretching in a long line parallel Avith the shores
of the broad Alersey, from which they are separated
by fine esplanades, and crowded with ship-
ping its broad and convenient quays bounded by
lofty and extensive storehouses—the crowds of
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