No More Learning

--I.
F. ]

See Erasmus Darwin's 'Zoonomia', vol. iv. pp. 68-69, ed. 1801. It is the
story of a man named Tullis, narrated by an Italian, Signer L. Storgosi,
in a work called 'Il Narratore Italiano'.

"I received good information of the truth of the following case, which
was published a few years ago in the newspapers. A young farmer in
Warwickshire, finding his hedges broke, and the sticks carried away
during a frosty season, determined to watch for the thief. He lay many
cold hours under a haystack, and at length an old woman, like a witch
in a play, approached, and began to pull up the hedge; he waited till
she had tied up her bundle of sticks, and was carrying them off, that
he might convict her of the theft, and then springing from his
concealment, he seized his prey with violent threats. After some
altercation, in which her load was left upon the ground, she kneeled
upon her bundle of sticks, and raising her arms to Heaven, beneath the
bright moon then at the full, spoke to the farmer, already shivering
with cold, 'Heaven grant that thou mayest never know again the
blessing to be warm. ' He complained of cold all the next day, and wore
an upper coat, and in a few days another, and in a fortnight took to
his bed, always saying nothing made him warm; he covered himself with
many blankets, and had a sieve over his face as he lay; and from this
one insane idea he kept his bed above twenty years for fear of the
cold air, till at length he died. "

In the "Advertisement" to the first edition of "Lyrical Ballads,"
Wordsworth says, "The tale of 'Goody Blake and Harry Gill' is founded on
a well-authenticated fact which happened in Warwickshire.
"

The following curious letter appeared in the 'Ipswich Magazine' of April
1799:

"IPSWICH, April 2, 1799.

"To the Editors of the 'Ipswich Magazine'.

"GENTLEMEN--The scarcity of Coal at this time, and the piercing cold
of the weather, cannot fail to be some apology for the depredations
daily committed on the hedges in the neighbourhood. If ever it be
permitted, it ought in the present season. Should there be any Farmer
more rigorous than the rest, let him attend to the poetical story
inserted in page 118 of this Magazine, and tremble at the fate of
Farmer Gill, who was about to prosecute a poor old woman for a similar
offence. The thing is a fact, and told by one of the first physicians
of the present day, as having happened in the south of England, 'and
which has, a short time since', been turned by a _lyric poet_ into
that excellent ballad. "

From 1815 to 1843, this poem was classed among those of "the
Imagination. " In 1845 it was transferred to the list of "Miscellaneous
Poems. "--Ed.


* * * * *

THE POEM


Oh! what's the matter? what's the matter?
What is't that ails young Harry Gill?
That evermore his teeth they chatter,
Chatter, chatter, chatter still!
Of waistcoats Harry has no lack, 5
Good duffle grey, and flannel fine;
He has a blanket on his back,
And coats enough to smother nine.

In March, December, and in July,
'Tis all the same with Harry Gill; 10
The neighbours tell, and tell you truly,
His teeth they chatter, chatter still.