century to come, by the name of the
_dungeon-entry_.

A dry cellar, opposite the demolished hall, was then appropriated for a
prison, till the town of all bad places chose the worst, the bottom of
Peck-lane; dark, narrow, and unwholesome within; crowded with dwellings,
filth and distress without, the circulation of air is prevented.

As a growing taste for public buildings has for some time appeared among
us, we might, in the construction of a prison, unite elegance and use;
and the west angle of that land between New-street and Mount-pleasant,
might be suitable for the purpose; an airy spot in the junction of six
streets. The proprietor of the land, from his known attachment to
Birmingham, would, I doubt not, be much inclined to grant a
favour.--Thus, I have expended ten _score_ words, to tell the world what
another would have told them in _ten_--"That our prison is wretched, and
we want a better."

CLODSHALES CHANTRY.

It is an ancient remark, "The world is a farce." Every generation, and
perhaps every individual, acts a part in disguise; but when the curtain
falls, the hand of the historian pulls off the mask, and displays the
character in its native light. Every generation differs from the other,
_yet all are right_. Time, fashion, and sentiment change together. We
laugh at the oddity of our fore-fathers--our successors will laugh
at us.

The prosperous anvil of Walter de Clodshale, a native of this place, had
enabled him to acquire several estates in Birmingham, to purchase the
lordship of Saltley, commence gentleman, and reside in the manor-house,
now gone to decay, though its traces remain, and are termed by common
people, _the Giant's Castle_. This man, having well provided for the
_present_, thought it prudent, at the close of life, to provide for the
_future_: he therefore procured a licence, in 1331, from William de
Birmingham, lord of the see, and another from the crown, to found a
chantry at the altar in St. Martin's church, for one priest, to pray for
his soul, and that of his wife.

He gave, that he might be safely wafted into the arms of felicity, by
the breath of a priest, four houses, twenty acres of land, and
eighteen-pence rent, issuing out of his estates in Birmingham.

The same righteous motive induced his son Richard, in 1348, to grant
five houses, ten acres of land, and ten shillings rent, from the
Birmingham estates, to maintain a second priest, who was to secure the
souls of himsel