merchant, in Wolstenholme-square.
Williamson used to tell his own tale by stating that "I came to Liverpool
a poor lad to make my fortune. My mother was a decent woman, but my
father was the greatest rip that ever walked on two feet. The poor woman
took care that all my clothes were in good order, and she would not let
me come to Liverpool unless I lodged with my employer. I got on in the
world little by little, until I became a man of substance, and I married
Betty Tate, my master's daughter. When the wedding day arrived I told
her I would meet her at the (St. Thomas') church, which I did, and after
it was all over I mounted the horse which was waiting for me, and told
Betty to go home and that I would come to her after the Hunt. I was a
member of the then famous 'Liverpool Hunt,' and when I got to the Meet
somebody said, 'Why, Williamson, how smart you are!'--'Smart,' said I,
'aye!--a man should look smart on his wedding day!' 'Wedding day,'
exclaimed some of the fellows, 'Who have you married?' 'I haven't
married anybody,' I said, 'but the parson has married me to old Tate's
daughter!' 'Why, where's your wife?' 'She's at home, to be sure, where
all good wives ought to be--getting ready her husband's dinner.' I'll
tell you what, Betty and I lived but a cat and dog life of it, but I was
sorry to part with the old girl when she did go." On the day of Mrs.
Williamson's funeral, the men employed on the works were seen lounging
about doing nothing. Williamson noticed this, and inquired the reason?
They told him that it was out of respect for their mistress. "Oh!
stuff," said Williamson, "you work for the living, not for the dead. If
you chaps don't turn to directly, I shall stop a day's wages on
Saturday."

Mr. Williamson's appearance was remarkable. His hat was what might have
been truly called "a shocking bad one." He generally wore an old and
very much patched brown coat, corduroy breeches, and thick, slovenly
shoes; but his underclothing was always of the finest description, and
faultless in cleanliness and colour. His manners were ordinarily rough
and uncouth, speaking gruffly, bawling loudly, and even rudely when he
did not take to any one. Yet, strange to say, at a private dinner or
evening party, Mr. Williamson exhibited a gentleness of manner, when he
chose, which made him a welcome guest. His fine, well-shaped, muscular
figure fully six feet high, his handsome head and face made him, when
well-