ason why any one has to
complain. Take my word for it, sir, this talk about public distress is
all humbug!"

THE WIDOW'S RETINUE.

Little dogs and all!

--_Lear_.

In giving an account of the arrival of Lady Lillycraft at the Hall, I
ought to have mentioned the entertainment which I derived from
witnessing the unpacking of her carriage, and the disposing of her
retinue. There is something extremely amusing to me in the number of
factitious wants, the loads of imaginary conveniences, but real
encumbrances, with which the luxurious are apt to burthen themselves.
I like to watch the whimsical stir and display about one of these
petty progresses. The number of robustious footmen and retainers of
all kinds bustling about, with looks of infinite gravity and
importance, to do almost nothing. The number of heavy trunks, and
parcels, and bandboxes belonging to my lady; and the solicitude,
exhibited about some humble, odd-looking box, by my lady's maid; the
cushions piled in the carriage to make a soft seat still softer, and
to prevent the dreaded possibility of a jolt; the smelling-bottles,
the cordials, the baskets of biscuit and fruit; the new publications;
all provided to guard against hunger, fatigue, or ennui; the led
horses, to vary the mode of travelling; and all this preparation and
parade to move, perhaps, some very good-for-nothing personage about a
little space of earth!

I do not mean to apply the latter part of these observations to Lady
Lillycraft, for whose simple kind-heartedness I have a very great
respect, and who is really a most amiable and worthy being. I cannot
refrain, however, from mentioning some of the motley retinue she has
brought with her; and which, indeed, bespeak the overflowing kindness
of her nature, which requires her to be surrounded with objects on
which to lavish it.

In the first place, her ladyship has a pampered coachman, with a red
face, and cheeks that hang down like dew-laps. He evidently domineers
over her a little with respect to the fat horses; and only drives out
when he thinks proper, and when he thinks it will be "good for the
cattle."

She has a favourite page, to attend upon her person; a handsome boy of
about twelve years of age, but a mischievous varlet, very much
spoiled, and in a fair way to be good for nothing. He is dressed in
green, with a profusion of gold cord and gilt buttons about his
clothes. She always has one or two attendants of the kind, w