s, it would be found that he only held
the estate in trust for the inhabitants of the parish.

In the meantime the squire was pressed more and more for money. The
parish could pay no more. The rector refused to lend a farthing. The
Jews were clamorous for their money; and the landlord had no other
resource than to call together the inhabitants of the parish, and to
request their assistance. They now attacked him furiously about their
grievances, and insisted that he should relinquish his oppressive
powers. They insisted that his footmen should be kept in order, that
the parson should pay his share of the rates, that the children of the
parish should be allowed to fish in the trout-stream, and to gather
blackberries in the hedges. They at last went so far as to demand that
he should acknowledge that he held his estate only in trust for them.
His distress compelled him to submit. They, in return, agreed to set him
free from his pecuniary difficulties, and to suffer him to inhabit the
manor-house; and only annoyed him from time to time by singing impudent
ballads under his window.

The neighbouring gentlefolks did not look on these proceedings with much
complacency. It is true that Sir Lewis and his ancestors had plagued
them with law-suits, and affronted them at county meetings. Still they
preferred the insolence of a gentleman to that of the rabble, and felt
some uneasiness lest the example should infect their own tenants.

A large party of them met at the house of Lord Caesar Germain. Lord
Caesar was the proudest man in the county. His family was very ancient
and illustrious, though not particularly opulent. He had invited most
of his wealthy neighbours. There was Mrs Kitty North, the relict of poor
Squire Peter, respecting whom the coroner's jury had found a verdict
of accidental death, but whose fate had nevertheless excited strange
whispers in the neighbourhood. There was Squire Don, the owner of the
great West Indian property, who was not so rich as he had formerly been,
but still retained his pride, and kept up his customary pomp; so that he
had plenty of plate but no breeches. There was Squire Von Blunderbussen,
who had succeeded to the estates of his uncle, old Colonel Frederic
Von Blunderbussen, of the hussars. The colonel was a very singular old
fellow; he used to learn a page of Chambaud's grammar, and to translate
Telemaque, every morning, and he kept six French masters to teach him
to parleyvoo. Neverthele