Part 28 (2/2)

It therefore admits a doubt, whether charitable donation is beneficial to the world; nay, the estate itself becomes blasted when bequeathed to public use, for, being the freehold of none, none will improve it: besides, the more dead land, the less scope for industry.

At the reformation, under Queen Elizabeth, charity seemed to take a different appearance: employment was found for the idle; he that was able, was obliged to labour, and the parish was obliged to a.s.sist him who could not. Hence the kingdom became replete with workhouses: these are the laudable repositories of distress.

It has already been observed, that three cla.s.ses of people merit the care of society: forlorn infancy, which is too weak for its own support; old age, which has served the community, without serving itself; and accidental calamity: the two first, fall under the eye of the parish, the last, under the modern inst.i.tution of the General Hospital.

The sh.e.l.l of this plain, but n.o.ble edifice, was erected in 1766, upon a situation very unsuitable for its elegant front, in a narrow dirty lane, with an aspect directing up the hill, which should ever be avoided.

The amiable desire of doing good in the inhabitants, seemed to have exceeded their ability; and, to the grief of many, it lay dormant for twelve years. In 1778, the matter was revived with vigor; subscriptions filled apace, and by the next year the hospital was finished, at the expence of 7137_l_. 10s. Though the benefactions might not amount to this enormous sum, yet they were n.o.ble, and truly characteristic of a generous people. The annual subscriptions, as they stood at Michaelmas, 1779, were 901_l_. 19s. and, at Midsummer, 1780, 932_l_. 8s. During these nine months, 529 patients were admitted, of which, 303 were cured, 93 relieved, 112 remained on the books, only 5 died, and but _one_ was discharged as incurable; an incontestible proof of the _skill_ of the faculty, which is at least equalled by their _humanity_, in giving their attendance gratis.

The rules by which this excellent charity is conducted, are worthy of its authors: success hath fully answered expectation, and the building will probably stand for ages, to tell posterity a favourable tale of the present generation.

PUBLIC ROADS.

Man is evidently formed for society; the intercourse of one with another, like two blocks of marble in friction, reduces the rough prominences of behaviour, and gives a polish to the manners.

Whatever tends to promote social connection, improve commerce, or stamp an additional value upon property, is worthy of attention.

Perhaps, there is not a circ.u.mstance that points more favourably towards these great designs, than commodious roads.

According as a country is improved in her roads, so will she stand in the scale of civilization. It is a characteristic by which we may p.r.o.nounce with safety. The manners and the roads of the English, have been refining together for about 1700 years. If any period of time is distinguished with a more rapid improvement in one, it is also in the other.

Our Saxons ancestors, of dusky memory, seldom stepped from under the smoke of Birmingham. We have a common observation among us, that even so late as William the Third, the roads were in so dangerous a state, that a man usually made his will, and took a formal fare-well of his friends, before he durst venture upon a journey to London; which, perhaps, was thought then, of as much consequence as a voyage to America now.

A dangerous road is unfavourable both to commerce and to friends.h.i.+p; a man is unwilling to venture his neck to sell his productions, or even visit his friend: if a dreadful road lies between them, it will be apt to annihilate friends.h.i.+p.

Landed property in particular, improves with the road. If a farmer cannot bring his produce to market, he cannot give much for his land, neither can that land well be improved, or the market properly supplied.

Upon a well formed road, therefore, might, with propriety, be placed the figures of commerce, of friends.h.i.+p, and of agriculture, as presiding over it.

There are but very few observations necessary in forming a road, and those few are very simple; to expel whatever is hurtful, and invite whatever is beneficial.

The breaking up of a long frost, by loosening the foundations, is injurious, and very heavy carriages ought to be prevented, 'till the weather unites the disjointed particles, which will soon happen.

But the grand enemy is water; and as this will inevitably fall, every means should be used to discharge it: drains ought to be frequent, that the water may not lie upon the road.

The great benefits are _the sun_ and the _wind:_ the surveyor should use every method for the admission of these friendly aids, that they may dispel the moisture which cannot run off.

For this purpose, all public roads ought to be sixty feet wide; all trees and hedges within thirty feet of the centre, be under the controul of the commissioners, with full liberty of drawing off the water in what manner they judge necessary.

The Romans were the most accomplished masters we know of in this useful art; yet even they seem to have forgot the under drain, for it is evident at this day, where their road runs along the declivity of a hill, the water dams up, flows over, and injures the road.

Care should be taken, in properly forming a road at first, otherwise you may botch it for a whole century, and at the end of that long period, it will be only a botch itself.

A wide road will put the innocent traveller out of fear of the waggoners; not the most civilized of the human race.

From Birmingham, as from a grand centre, issues twelve roads, that point to as many towns; some of these, within memory, have scarcely been pa.s.sable; all are mended, but though much is done, more is wanted. In an upland country, like that about Birmingham, where there is no river of size, and where the heads only of the streams show themselves: the stranger would be surprised to hear, that through most of these twelve roads he cannot travel in a flood with safety. For want of causeways and bridges, the water is suffered to flow over the road, higher than the stirrup: every stream, though only the size of a tobacco-pipe, ought to be carried through an under drain, never to run over the road.

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