tender complaining notes of his psalmody upon the streets of the
city. About three months ago I heard one of his most pathetic tunes
sung in the market-place by an old man and two young women. The old
man's dress had the peculiar hue and fray of factory work upon it,
and he had a pair of clogs upon his stockingless feet. They were
singing one of Leech's finest minor tunes to Wesley's hymn:-

"And am I born to die,
To lay this body down?
And must my trembling spirit fly
Into a world unknown?
A land of deepest shade,
Unpierced by human thought;
The dreary country of the dead
Where all things are forgot."

It is a tune often sung by country people in Lancashire at funerals;
and, if I remember right, the same melody is cut upon Leech's
gravestone in the old Wesleyan Chapel-yard, at Rochdale. I saw a
company of minstrels of the same class going through Brown Street,
the other day, playing and singing,

"In darkest shades, if Thou appear,
My dawning is begun."

The company consisted of an old man, two young men, and three young
women. Two of the women had children in their arms. After I had
listened to them a little while, thinking the time and the words a
little appropriate to their condition, I beckoned to one of the
young men, who came "sidling" slowly up to me. I asked him where