had never walked or talked. The curious in such matters may, on warm, sunny mornings, occasionally meet, in the neighbourhood of Bromsgrove Street, a very intelligent little man not much if any bigger than the celebrated Tom Thumb, but who has never been made a show of.
Dynamite Manufacture.—See "Notable Offences."
Ear and Throat Infirmary.—See "Hospitals."
Earthquakes are not of such frequent occurrence in this country as to require much notice. The first we find recorded (said to be the greatest known here) took place in November, 1318; others were felt in this country in May, 1332; April, 1580; November, 1775; November, 1779; November, 1852, and October, 1563.
Easy Row, or Easy Hill, as Baskerville delighted to call the spot he had chosen for a residence. "When Mr. Hanson was planning out the Town Hall, there were several large elm trees still standing in Easy Row, by the corner of Edmund Street, part of the trees which constituted Baskerville's Park, and in the top branches of which the rooks still built their nests. The entrance to Broad Street had been narrow, and bounded by a lawn enclosed with posts and chains, reaching 'to the elm trees, but the increase of traffic had necessitated the removal (in 1838) of the grassplots and the fencing, though the old trees were left until 1847, by which time they were little more than skeletons of trees, the smoky atmosphere having long since stopped all growth.
Eccentrics.—There are just a few now to be found, but in these days of heaven-sent artists and special-born politicians, it would be an invidious task to chronicle their doings, or dilate on their peculiar idiosyncrasies, and we will only note a few of the queer characters of the past, leaving to the future historian the fun of laughing at our men of to-day. In 1828 the man of mark was "Dandie Parker," a well-to-do seedsman, who, aping Beau Brummel in gait and attire, sought to be the leader ct fashion, lie was rivalled, a little while after, by one Meyers, to see whom was a sight worth crossing the town, so firm and spruce was he in his favourite dress of white hat and white trousers, dark green or blue coat with gilt buttons, buff waistcoat, and stiff broad white neckcloth or stock, a gold-headed cane always in hand. By way of contrast to these worthies, at about the same period (1828-30) was one "Muddlepate Ward," the head of a family who had located themselves in a gravel pit at the Lozells, and who used to drive about the town with an old carriage drawn by pairs of donkey and ponies, the harness being composed of Odd pieces of old rope, and the whip a hedgestake with a bit of string, the whole turnout being as remarkable for dirt as the first-named "dandies" were for cleanliness.—"Billy Button" was another well-known but most inoffensive character, who died here May 3, 1838. His real name was never published, but he belonged to a good family, and early in life he had been an officer in the Navy (some of his biographers say "a commander"), but lost his senses when returning from a long voyage, on hearing of the sudden death of a young lady to whom he was to have been married, and he always answered to her name. Jessie. He went about singing, and the refrain of one of his favourite songs—
"Oysters, sir! Oysters, sir!
Oysters, sir. I cry;
They are the finest oysters, sir,
That ever you could buy.'"
was for years after "Billy Button's" death the nightly "cry" of more than one peripatetic shellfishmonger. The peculiarity that obtained for the poor fellow his soubriquet of "Billy Button" arose from the habit he had of sticking every button he could get on to his coat, which at his death, was covered
