ing, his coach was at their door:
Leicester Fields, Carlton House, Gunnersbury, were all the same to him,
and nothing must satisfy him now but going to the stout duke's funeral.
He caught a great cold and an inflammation of the throat from standing
bareheaded at this funeral in the rain; and one morning, before almost
I had heard of his illness, a lawyer waits upon me at my lodgings in
Bloomsbury, and salutes me by the name of Sir George Warrington.

Party and fear of the future were over now. We laid the poor gentleman
by the side of his little son, in the family churchyard where so many
of his race repose. Little Miles and I were the chief mourners. An
obsequious tenantry bowed and curtseyed before us, and did their utmost
to conciliate my honour and my worship. The dowager and her daughter
withdrew to Bath presently; and I and my family took possession of the
house, of which I have been master for thirty years. Be not too eager,
O my son! Have but a little patience, and I too shall sleep under yonder
yew-trees, and the people will be tossing up their caps for Sir Miles.

The records of a prosperous country life are easily and briefly told.
The steward's books show what rents were paid and forgiven, what crops
were raised, and in what rotation. What visitors came to us, and
how long they stayed: what pensioners my wife had, and how they were
doctored and relieved, and how they died: what year I was sheriff, and
how often the hounds met near us; all these are narrated in our house
journals, which any of my heirs may read who choose to take the
trouble. We could not afford the fine mansion in Hill Street, which
my predecessor had occupied; but we took a smaller house, in which,
however, we spent more money. We made not half the show (with liveries,
equipages, and plate) for which my uncle had been famous; but our beer
was stronger, and my wife's charities were perhaps more costly than
those of the Dowager Lady Warrington. No doubt she thought there was no
harm in spoiling the Philistines; for she made us pay unconscionably for
the goods she left behind her in our country-house, and I submitted to
most of her extortions with unutterable good-humour. What a value she
imagined the potted plants in her greenhouses bore! What a price she
set upon that horrible old spinet she left in her drawing-room! and the
framed pieces of worsted-work, performed by the accomplished Dora and
the lovely Flora, had they been masterpieces of