Willey Walker, a well-known Durham character, who has discovered a new
solar system different from all others, is a beadsman of the cathedral;
or, as the impudent boys call a person of his rank, from the dress he
wears, “a blue mouse.” It is Willey’s business to toll the curfew: but
to our story. In Durham there are two clocks, which, if I may so express
myself, are both _official_ ones; viz. the cathedral clock, and the gaol
or county clock. The admirers of each are about equal: some of the
inhabitants regulating their movements by one, and some by the other.
Three or four years ago it happened, during the middle of the winter,
that the two clocks varied considerably; there was _only_ three quarters
of an hour’s difference between them. The citizens cared very little
about this _slight_ discrepancy, but it was not at all relished by the
guard of the London and Edinburgh mail, who spoke on the subject to the
late John Bolton, the regulator of the county clock. John immediately
posted off to the cathedral, where he met Willey Walker, and the
following dialogue is said to have passed between them.
_Bolton._ Willey, why doa’nt ye keep t’ abba clock reet--there’s a bit
difference between it and mine?
_Willey._ Why doa’nt ye keep yours so--it never gans reet?
_Bolton._ Mine’s set by the sun, Willey! (Bolton was an astronomer.)
_Willey._ By the sun! Whew! whew! whew! Why, are ye turned fule? Nebody
would think ye out else! and ye pretend to be an astronomer, and set
clocks by ’t’ sun in this _windy_ weather!--ther’s ne depending on it:
the winds, man, blaw sa, they whisk the sun about like a whirligig!
Bolton, petrified by the outpouring of Willey’s astronomical knowledge,
made no answer.
Bolton was a very eccentric character, and a great natural genius: from
a very obscure origin he rose to considerable provincial celebrity. Such
was his contempt of London artists, that he described himself on his
sign as being “from Chester-le-Street, not London.” He was an
indefatigable collector of curiosities; and had a valuable museum,
which most strangers visited. His advertisements were curious
compositions, often in doggerel verse. He was a good astronomer and a
believer in astrology. He is interred in Elvet church-yard: a plain
stone marks the place, with the following elegant inscription from the
classic pen of veterinary doctor Marshall. I give it as pointed.
Ingenious artist! few thy skill surpast
In works of art. Yet death has beat at last.
Tho’ conquer’d. Yet thy deeds will ever shine,
Time cant destroy a genius large as thine!
Bolton built some excellent organs and turret clocks. For one of the
latter, which he made for North Shields, he used to say, he was not
paid: and the following notice in his shop, in large characters,
informed his customers of the fact--“North Shields clock never paid
for!”