In all degrees of people, from the bishop to the beadle, there seems a
propensity in the mind to arrive at the honours of Sainthood: by joining
our names in partnership with a faint, we share with him a red letter in
the almanack.

Out of six churches in Birmingham, three bear the names of the donors.
St. Bartholomew's would, probably, have taken that of its founder, John
Jennens, Esq; but that name happened to be anticipated by Sir John de
Birmingham, who conferred it upon Deritend chapel. St. Mary's could
readily perpetuate the name of its benefactress, because we had no place
of worship that bore it. But as neither the popish, nor the protestant
kalendar produced a St. Charles, the founder of St. Paul's was
unfortunately excluded.

The gifts, which the benefactor himself believes are charitable, and
expects the world to believe the same, if scrutinized, will be found to
originate from various causes--counterfeits are apt to be offered in
currency for sterling.

Perhaps _ostentation_ has brought forth more acts of beneficence than
charity herself; but, like an unkind parent, she disowns her offspring,
and charges them upon charity.

Ostentation is the root of charity; why else are we told, in capitals,
by a large stone in the front of a building--"This hospital was erected
by William Bilby, in the sixty-third year of his age, 1709." Or, "That
John Moore, yeoman, of Worley Wigorn, built this school, in 1730."--Nay,
pride even tempts us to strut in a second-hand robe of charity, left by
another; or why do we read--"These alms-houses were erected by Lench's
trust, in 1764. W. WALSINGHAM, BAILIFF."