, Samuel's mother, and was free of the surgery, where he knew the
way to the tamarind-pots, and could scent his pocket-handkerchief with
rose-water. And it was at this period of his life that he formed an
attachment for Miss Sophy Huxter, whom, on his father's demise, he
married, and took home to his house of the Warren, at a few miles from
Clavering.

The family had possessed and cultivated an estate there for many
years, as yeomen and farmers. Mr. Hobnell's father pulled down the
old farmhouse; built a flaring new whitewashed mansion, with capacious
stables; and a piano in the drawing-room; kept a pack of harriers; and
assumed the title of Squire Hobnell. When he died, and his son reigned
in his stead, the family might be fairly considered to be established as
county gentry. And Sam Huxter, at London, did no great wrong in boasting
about his brother-in-law's place, his hounds, horses, and hospitality,
to his admiring comrades at Bartholomew's. Every year, at a time
commonly when Mrs. Hobnell could not leave the increasing duties of
her nursery, Hobnell came up to London for a lark, had rooms at
the Tavistock, and he and Sam indulged in the pleasures of the town
together. Ascot, the theatres, Vauxhall, and the convivial taverns in
the joyous neighbourhood of Covent Garden, were visited by the vivacious
squire, in company with his learned brother. When he was in London, as
he said, he liked to do as London does, and to "go it a bit," and when
he returned to the west, he took a new bonnet and shawl to Mrs. Hobnell,
and relinquished, for country sports and occupations during the next
eleven months, the elegant amusements of London life.

Sam Huxter kept up a correspondence with his relative, and supplied him
with choice news of the metropolis, in return for the baskets of hares,
partridges, and clouted cream which the squire and his good-natured wife
forwarded to Sam. A youth more brilliant and distinguished they did
not know. He was the life and soul of their house, when he made his
appearance in his native place. His songs, jokes, and fun kept the
Warren in a roar. He had saved their eldest darling's life, by taking
a fish-bone out of her throat: in fine, he was the delight of their
circle.

As ill-luck would have it, Pen again fell in with Mr. Huxter, only three
days after the rencontre at Vauxhall. Faithful to his vow, he had not
been to see little Fanny. He was trying to drive her from his mind by
occupation, or o