Part 11

My father, who, during this sad speech, had looked him firmly in the face, calmly and rather cheerfully replied, "I thank you, sir, most sincerely. I am content! the Lord's will be done! Pray take care of my poor son." The last words of the Doctor had produced such an awful effect upon me, that, unperceived by them, I had sunk senseless into a chair.

As soon as I recovered a little I was led out of the room, more dead than alive; and even at this moment the words of Mr. Grant vibrate afresh upon my ear. Though I had anticipated such an answer, and had, indeed, no reason to expect any other, yet when the blow came, it was much more stunning, much more overwhelming, than I had any idea of. I was dumb with sorrow; I now, by cruel experience, understood, what dumb sorrow meant. I could neither speak nor give vent to my feelings by tears. The agony of my poor sister, who saw enough to convince her what was the fatal sentence, and who immediately went into violent hysterics, was the first thing that recalled me to myself. The sight of her distress roused me from my lethargy; yet it was with a sort of stupor that I moved to her assistance, and when she had in some degree recovered, my brain was still whirled round and bewildered. I had received such a shock that all the world appeared as one vacant blank before my eyes.

Mr. Clare, at length, called my attention to the wish of Mr Grant to return; and the chaise being brought to the door, he reminded me of the doctor's fee. I asked Clare what would be proper; to which he replied that twenty guineas would be handsome. I, however, gave him thirty, with which he expressed himself very well satisfied; and on his departure he politely requested that he might be numbered among my friends. I made my friend Clare promise to return in the evening; and poor Hill, who had eyed with a mixture of surprise and envy the large sum paid to Mr. Grant, received his two guineas for his two visits, and left the place, cursing, I have no doubt, Mr. Grant in his heart, for having spoken out so plainly as to render his future visits useless, and thereby deprived him of three or four more guineas in fees.

The moment they were gone I returned to my father, endeavouring to suppress my sorrow as much as possible. Taking me by the hand, he said, most tenderly, "My dear son, though I do not feel myself weak, yet, as we must part so soon, pass as much of your time with me as you conveniently can; for I feel at present in very sound mind, and I shall be enabled to give you some good advice, which I hope will be of lasting service to you; and, as it will be given at such a time as this, I am sure that it will sink deep into your heart. In the first place you must not give way to sorrow; for you must be a father to your sister, and to your unfortunate little brothers, who are at school in London. I shall not for one moment repine upon my own account. I am not afraid to meet a merciful Creator; he is not the implacable being that some find it their interest to represent him. I always have had, and shall, to the last, continue to have, full and implicit confidence in his loving kindness and mercy. Be you, therefore, calm and temperate in your grief, and consider that you have a great duty to perform. It must be your task to comfort your father in his last moments, when, perhaps, by the exhaustion of his bodily powers, he may become weak in mind. If this be the Divine will, which, however, may Heaven avert, be it your care to soothe, to comfort, and to cherish; and, if possible, collect and controul my wandering senses. Promise me that you will not leave me long at a time. In you I place my trust, and I know you will not deceive me." I solemnly assured him that I would not leave the house. "Nay,["] said he, "do not say so; all our large farms, with two or three hundred servants, require your attendance, sometimes; but do not leave me long at a time. I feel no symptoms of my approaching end. Send for your wife. She will comfort and be a good companion for your sister, and will assist her to nurse me. I know that you will all make me as comfortable as you can while I remain here." To which I replied, by entreating him not to doubt my affectionate attention.

Mr. Clare and Mr. Grant had both told me that they thought it impossible that he could live more than three days at the most, as the mortification had approached the vital parts.--As he was a very hearty strong man, with a sound constitution, it was possible that he might live full three days; but, nevertheless, as some change might bring on his dissolution much sooner, he ought, they said, to lose no time in settling his affairs. He, himself, began on this subject, by saying, "You know that I made my will since your mother's death, and I see no cause to alter the distribution of my property. I have dealt fairly by all my children. You will possess the manor and estate of Glastonbury, by heirship, in addition to what I have given you. I wish to make a codicil, to appoint you a trustee, in the place of one of those whom I appointed when you were a minor." My uncle Powell, my mother's brother, who was named as a trustee, and his attorney, were, therefore, sent for, and the necessary alteration was made without delay; and without giving my father any trouble, or uneasiness whatever.

As the mortification encreased, his leg grew less painful, and in the night he had some sweet sleep; but I could not be prevailed upon to leave his bed-side for a moment. I devoured every syllable that fell from his lips; and I thought I had suffered the greatest loss if he required any thing, and I was not upon the spot to furnish him with it. My sister was quite knocked up; nature was over-powered; and as I now found the assistance of Mrs. Hunt to be absolutely necessary, she was sent for in the morning. Without her we should have been greatly at a loss; for my poor sister was now more in need of being nursed herself than able to assist in nursing my father, whom we contrived to keep perfectly easy and free from any serious pain till his death. His amazing strength of constitution went beyond the calculation of the doctors; for he lived four days and nearly five nights, after the mortification had visibly passed into his body. During the whole of this time, even to the very last, he was perfectly sensible, and not till he ceased to exist, did he cease to possess all his faculties in the soundest state.

The next morning after Mr. Grant had been, and confirmed his approaching end, he begged to have my sister's piano forte brought up into his bed room; and when he grew fatigued with giving me his kind admonitions, he was much pleased and refreshed by my sister's playing and singing. He was always passionately fond of music, and was a tolerable amateur himself, and it appeared to give him as much pleasure as ever to hear her play and sing "Angels ever bright and fair," &c. &c. Sacred music was mostly his choice upon this occasion, yet he would sometimes request a lively and cheerful air. These tunes frequently lulled him into a sweet sleep, which he now and then enjoyed for an hour at a time; during which period I never failed to watch over him with the most pious care, never suffering him to be disturbed upon any occasion.

During the whole of this time he talked of his approaching dissolution with the greatest calmness and composure; and he gave orders how he would be buried, and named those of his servants who should carry him to the church, to lay him by the side of his dear Elizabeth. He often repeated Pope's universal prayer, and frequently expressed his gratitude that he did not feel as his beloved wife Elizabeth had done at her decease, the moment of which he greatly lamented was clouded with doubts and fears; a circumstance which he had always attributed to bodily weakness; and he prayed devoutly to the author of his being not to suffer his mind to be impaired while he had life in his body. He felt that he had lived the life of an honest man, and had never failed in strictly doing his duty towards his neighbours; he declared that he had gone regularly to church, as an example to his servants and his family, but believed that one private act of devotion was more acceptable in the eyes of a benificent and all-wise divinity, than any mere outward form of public worship. It was, he said, the greatest consolation to him in his last trial, to reflect that he had been honest and upright in all his dealings, and that in his conduct to his fellow creatures, he had uniformly kept in view the sublime precept of "Do unto others as you would they should do unto you." This, he said, was his chief consolation in the hour of trial; and he most emphatically urged us to follow his example, particularly in that respect, as "honesty was the best policy." Recalling to his memory and mentioning all the little menial errors that he had committed, he assured us that they gave him not the least uneasiness; that God was too wise, too just, too good, and too forgiving, to record such faults, and to make his creatures suffer for them where they had not been vicious and premeditated.

In this way, for four days, he spent the close of his existence, principally with me; urging and inculcating every good, honest, and noble principle; cautioning me against the effects likely to result from my great enthusiasm, and pointing out to me the path which he thought would lead to happiness, honour, and renown; and he constantly offered up the most pious and devout thanks to Heaven, for having permitted him to remain so long after he had received notice of his approaching dissolution, as to enable him to give me so much good advice. He anticipated that I should do well and prosper in the world, if my daring independent spirit did not lead me into difficulties; he continued to express great doubts about the prudence of my remaining in the yeomanry cavalry; he said that he had always dreaded some great evil would arise out of it to me; and he submitted whether it would not be much to my advantage to leave it. His death, would, he said, be a most ample reason for my quitting it, as I should have such a large business upon my hand, that it would require every moment of my time to attend to it. "And if you want an excuse," added he, "say it was one of the last wishes of your father that you should do so; but recollect, my dear son, I do not bind you down to any promise of the sort; I only throw out this hint, if you choose to make an excuse. I must, however say, that an honourable and brave man, should never think it necessary to make any excuse for doing that which be deems right and proper. You will recollect these observations and feel their justice, after I am dead and gone; when you will have no sincere friend to advise and admonish you. I own I wish I could have lived another year or two for your sake; as we were now just begun to live as father and son ought to live, upon the most friendly footing. You would have assisted and protected me in my old age; and I know, and you will so feel, that I should have been of the most important service to you. You decide too hastily; you are quick and impetuous; your young hot blood leads you on incautiously into unnecessary dangers and difficulties. The truth is, you are young; and therefore I would not have you otherwise disposed than you are. I have long discovered a noble generous spirit to be the ruling passion of your soul; and all your faults even result from an amiable and a praiseworthy enthusiastic desire to excell. You only want prudence and experience to direct you; but that experience which you might have acquired from me you must now purchase. To have lived to direct, to advise and admonish you, would have been a great happiness to me. But the Lord's will be done! I have given you a good education; I have made you a complete master of your business, as a farmer; God has blessed you with a strong mind, and a sound body; and few young men of your age will begin the world with brighter prospects; you will have a large business upon your hands, that will keep you out of idleness; though, in fact, I do not suspect you of any tendency to idleness; but I hope this fine business will keep you out of mischief. You must be a father to your poor little brothers, who are so unfortunate as to require double care. Your uncle Powell has promised that he will take care of your sisters; but be sure and give them repeated advice not to be led away, against their better judgment, to adopt his form of religion, that of a Quaker. I have not the slightest objection to the Quakers; but I have always found the church of England quite good enough for those who have been bred up in that persuasion. I do not think any one would be justified in dissenting from the church of England till he has acted up to all the Christian precepts of that church. But now, that we are on the subject of religion, and the church of England, mark what I say upon my death bed. It will, I know, sink deeper into your young mind than any thing that I could have said at any other time. Do not, my dear son, for one moment imagine that I wish to inculcate the idea that, as I approach my Maker, I profess to believe all those mummeries that I have hitherto dared to disbelieve and dispute. You know that I never joined in Saint Athanasius's Creed. All such unchristian denunciations I ever held, and I still hold, to be blasphemous impositions. Many of the forms of the church also are superstitious and ridiculous; but the moral precepts of the Christian faith are wise and good. I have never meddled in religious discussions; I have always formed my own opinion to the best of my judgment and belief; and if in any of those opinions I have erred, I have not the least shadow of doubt upon my mind that a wise, just and beneficent Creator and father of all, will pardon my errors. I do not feel the least disposed now to investigate, or puzzle myself, in my last moments, in a vain endeavour to enquire whether I have been right or wrong; the Lord's will be done, say I, and may he in his goodness assist you to continue an honest and an upright man amongst your fellow men. Do your duty by your neighbour, and worship your Maker agreeably to the dictates of your own conscience, and you will live happy; and when the time comes (for, recollect that it must come with ALL) and when it comes with you, my dear son, may you be as well prepared as your father is to enter the presence of your Maker."

I have, I think, shewn the reader enough to impress him with the idea of the incessant pains, the unwearied exertion, of my excellent parent, to inculcate the true principles of honour, morality, and religion upon the mind of his son. He well knew that what he said upon these matters, at such an awful period, was sure to make a lasting impression upon the memory of his son: for whose benefit he appeared to live even to the last. When, at times, he became exhausted with his anxiety to serve me, he would say, "now, my dear boy, go down stairs and get some refreshment, while I meditate, while I commune with God in private, and silently adore his goodness. Come again soon; but, in the mean time, do not let any one disturb my meditations." When I crept quietly back again, I sometimes found him with his hands clasped, still in the act of silent prayer. On seeing me, he would cease, and say, "it is all well;" and then he would return to the most interesting discourse with me. At other times I found him in the most sweet and delightful sleep; his countenance as placid as in the most happy and prosperous moments of his life; as if he were blessed with health and spirits. He always awoke cheerful, and apparently refreshed, and would relate some delightful dream which he had had, frequently consisting of a happy meeting and heavenly conversation with his dear departed Elizabeth, my mother. God of heaven! what did I not feel in those interesting and trying moments! Any weeping, any gloomy sorrow in his presence, he forbad; for he said we all ought to bless the hour, and to rejoice to see a beloved parent upheld at such a moment by his Creator, so as to be enabled to die with such serenity and firmness, and to set such an example to his children. In this manner passed away three days and nights after Mr. Grant had pronounced it impossible for my father to recover. As all the medical men had agreed that it was not probable that he would survive more than two days, I had every now and then a faint hope that the strength of his constitution would overcome the mortification. Mr. Clare, however, who attended daily, repressed that hope by pronouncing it impossible for my father to live. His predictions were verified by the event. On the morning of the fourth day it was evident that my parent grew weak; his voice failed him, he had much greater difficulty in holding any conversation, and his breathing was much less frequent; yet he was calm and cheerful, and felt pleasure in hearing my sister play upon the piano-forté, which caused him a short slumber after each tune.

About the middle of the day, he desired to be alone with me; and taking my hand, with a benignant smile, he said, in a weak but tender tone, "my dearest son, your father's time for quitting this mortal life is arrived. I find that the hand of death is upon me." After a pause of half a minute, to recover from the exertion, he continued, "you will soon lose your best and truest friend. I would not wish to make you a misanthropist; I would not, because it is unnatural at your age, have you suspect all mankind; but of this you may rest assured, that there are few, very few in the world, who will not flatter you if they can get any thing by it. There are none who will tell you of your faults with the candid kindness of a friend; some, indeed, may taunt you with them, in order to irritate and provoke you; but, before another sun rises, you will have lost the only one who must be naturally anxious to advise and admonish you with a pure and disinterested friendship. Young and sanguine as you are, you will be thrown upon the wide world, to think and act for yourself; but your prospects are bright, your father has done his best for you, and in his last moments he will pray for your success and happiness in life. My only sorrow is at leaving your little unfortunate brothers. You must be a father to them, and I have left them an ample fortune, to repay you well for any trouble you may have with them. I know you will be a kind brother to them, and I hope, in return, that they will be grateful to you. I have little dread on your account, for though you are young, yet God and your father have done their duty towards you so bountifully, that there is every prospect of your doing well in the world. I only wish I could have lived to have seen you well out of the yeomanry cavalry! Recollect my last words--you will always find 'honesty the best policy;' therefore always 'do unto others as you would that they should do unto you,' and take care so to live that, when death calls, you may be prepared to follow him, as I now am, in humble but confiding hope, and without repining."

My poor father held me firmly by the hand and looked me steadily in the face, though his eyes grew dim, and his voice was so interrupted by the difficulty of respiration, which now much increased, that he was greatly exhausted. At length he sunk gently back upon his pillow, ejaculating "the Lord's will be done; the Lord be praised." His eyes were fixed and death had overspread his face with a sombre hue; he held my hand about three hours, but never spoke more; lying all the while perfectly still, apparently without the least pain or uneasiness, either in body or mind. In this state he continued till near eight o'clock in the evening, of the 27th of August, 1797, when the best of fathers drew his last breath, and gently slid into the arms of death, without a groan, a struggle, or even a sigh, to the inexpressible grief of his affectionate and deeply-afflicted son. His hand still retained its hold of mine, and I now gave vent to that unbounded sorrow which I had heretofore suppressed and smothered, because I would not make him uneasy. It is to me in my dungeon a source of never-failing pleasure to reflect that all that it was possible for one man to do to save the life of another I did, to save his life; and at any one moment, after his doom was pronounced by the doctors, I would have sacrificed my life, nay, if I had had a thousand lives I would have died by torture a thousand times, to have saved his life. But he had taught me not only by precept, but by example, to bow to the will of God. There never lived a better man, nor a better father; nor did ever a son sustain a greater loss than I did by his death. It has been said, with great truth, that he was the second founder of his family.

After he drew his last breath, I remained kneeling by his bed-side absorbed in grief and silent prayer for nearly an hour, before any one of the family came to me. At length my wife came to my aid, and being roused by her I performed the sad sacred office of closing his eyes for ever.

I shall not make any apology to the reader, for having dwelt so long on this melancholy scene. I trust that it will prove one of the most instructive parts of my history. In fact, and in truth, I would not write another line, if I did not fondly hope that almost every part of my life may prove instructive, as well as entertaining, to my fellow creatures and the rising generation; particularly to those who may embark upon the wide, rough, boisterous, and dangerous ocean of politics. When I recite my own errors, and it has already been seen, that I have committed many and great ones, I am rewarded for the pain I feel in the recollection of them, by the hope that they may prove a beacon and a warning to those young persons who may do me the honour to read these pages; and where they find that the impulse of honourable generous feelings, unguided by prudence, has led me into a wrong course, I trust that the young reader will learn, from my mistakes, how to temper his zeal with that discretion which may enable him to steer clear of those perilous quicksands upon which I have so frequently struck.

What a great misfortune for me was the death of my father! Before I was yet twenty-four years of age, with a mind unformed, and I may say, in the common acceptation of the phrase, very young of my age; here was I left in the uncontrolled possession of one of the largest farming concerns in the kingdom! I had a young wife, and a family of my own coming on; and had five sisters and brothers, younger than myself, left without father or mother. I was immediately obliged to attend to the farms, which had had no master to look over them for the last week, that week the most busy one in the year; and I had likewise to give orders for the funeral of my departed father. Exertion was indispensable. It was no use for me to lie down and cry God help me! Necessity, however painful to my feelings, compelled me to see to every thing, because I had no friend either to do it for me, or even to assist me. The whole lay upon the hands of myself and my wife, who was of the greatest assistance to my poor sister, who almost sunk under her afflicting loss.

It was fortunately fine weather, and the wheat harvest was nearly finished before my father was buried. When the awful day of his funeral came, I performed the last sad and solemn office for him, as I had faithfully promised to him that I would, and saw him laid by the side of my poor mother in the silent grave, the tomb and vault of his ancestors, in the chancel of the parish church of Enford, in the county of Wilts.

This melancholy scene made the most lasting impression upon my memory, and such was the effect of the kind benevolent and endearing conversations which I had held with my father, during the four last days of his life, after he knew that he could not survive his illness, that for seven years afterwards, I used in my sleep to hold the most delightful converse in my dreams with the spirit of my beloved parent; in all of which he appeared most anxious for my welfare, and advised, admonished, and kindly cautioned me against every impending evil; so that he was not only the best of fathers when living, but he proved my kind and fostering guardian angel after his death. No young man ever had better advice bestowed upon him than I had; unceasing kind and paternal advice, as well as the best example. Nor was any one ever more sensible of the great and irreparable loss be had sustained than I was; or ever more sincerely deplored the loss of a beloved parent, than I did the loss of my father. Mine was not that sort of sorrow which puts on a gloomy outside, the garb of woe, while the heart beats to a merry tune. But, though I did not assume any hypocritical outward sorrow, yet I was really and truly most sad at heart. The constant employment of the body and the full occupation of the mind is, however, always the very best antidote to grief, and those my business furnished me with, to the fullest extent. When my father died, what he rented, and what he left of his own, was nearly all the tything of Littlecot, as well as Chisenbury farm, and I was in possession of Widdington farm, about two miles distant. All the farms were now in my occupation, and, as I thought it proper to live more centrical, I took Chisenbury House, a large old-fashioned, handsome mansion; and as soon as I could fit it up and furnish it, I went to reside there. This was considered by some as being rather an imprudent and extravagant step; for it would require a considerable income to keep up an establishment such as a house like that demanded. The reader will be able to estimate its size, when I inform him that there were not less than fifty two windows in it to be paid for to the assessed taxes; the number of them, however, I had the prudence to reduce considerably. But, in spite of all my prudence, it could not, considering the scale on which my arrangements were formed, be otherwise than a very expensive residence. Still it was not more, perhaps, than I was fairly entitled to, as the profits arising from my large well cultivated farms enabled me to vie with men of five or six thousand a year, in my domestic establishment. My stables were stored with hunters; my kennels with dogs; my cellars were well stocked with wine and the best old October; and my table always amply furnished the best of viands to my friends. My wife, who was quite as fond of company as I was, made her female guests uniformly welcome. We kept a hospitable house, and we never wanted for company to fill it, or a parson to say grace to a good dinner. At this time we had another daughter born, and every thing went most prosperously with me in the world. My friend, Dr. Clare of Devizes, who was a sporting man, purchased at Lord Audley's sale a handsome curricle, which he offered me, and we soon struck a bargain. Curricles were all the vogue at that time; therefore a dashing young man without a curricle was nothing; and as my wife was a great driver, as well as a good horsewoman, a curricle was almost indispensable.

Let no one suppose, from reading this, that I was become a careless squanderer. The habits of economy which, almost from my infancy, I lead imbibed in consequence of the example that I had always before my eyes, did not desert me even under these circumstances. By management I lived as well, kept as good a house, and had my whole establishment so arranged, as to make quite as good an appearance for a thousand or fifteen hundred a year as many persons make who spend more than thrice that sum. I had at all times plenty of money, and I had every comfort and luxury about me; but in the midst of all this apparent extravagance, I never forgot the poor. All my servants were well paid and well fed, and I scarcely ever failed to attend the parish pay table, to see that those who held the office of overseer turned no one away, who was really in distress, without affording him relief. Thus early I gained the character of being the friend of the poor. I always pleaded the cause of the widow, the orphan, the aged, and infirm; and, being the largest paymaster in the parish to the fund of the poor, I never pleaded in vain. The idle, the indolent, and the dissolute, I left to fight their own battles; but the infirm, the aged, the widow, and the orphan never fruitlessly sued when I was present, and, as I have just said, I seldom failed to attend; if I did I was sure to hear complaints. My readers will recollect that I am writing these Memoirs during the life-time of hundreds who can speak to this fact; and I speak of it not as boasting, but with the firm conviction that it can be substantiated by hundreds who lived in the parish, and that there is not one who will contradict it. The friend of the poor is a title which I earned very early in life, and I hope that I shall deserve to carry it to my grave. Sorry, however, as I should be to lose this honourable title, I would ten thousand times rather lose it than lose the heart-cheering, soul-inspiring reflection that I have always been their friend not for the name, but for the pleasure I felt in protecting and assisting my less fortunate fellow-creatures, when they were in distress. It may be said, if you are really so, why not rest satisfied with the pleasure of knowing it? Why do you sound your own trumpet, and endeavour to blazon it forth to the world? My answer is, because my being incarcerated here for two years and six months has induced me to become my own historian, and I will endeavour to be so faithfully; and I feel that I have need to put upon record all my good qualities, as a set-off to balance my bad qualities. Of the latter I have disclosed a great many already, and as I proceed I shall have to record still more. Now, as we are told that charity covers a multitude of sins, if I possess this good quality of charity, and if I prove that I always exercised it, I think I should not be doing common justice to myself or to my friends, if out of false modesty I were to keep silence. Those who have read my work hitherto will not fail to have discovered that, from my early days, I have proved myself to have been animated by an ardent love of country, that I possessed a sort of inherent patriotism, without having at all entered into politics. A patriot I consider to be a man who is devoted to the laws and constitution of his country in their purity; a defender of the rights and liberties of the people, and one who does his best to promote their happiness and welfare.

Merely possessing the good quality of being charitable, by no means makes a patriot. Therefore, I am not professing any claim to patriotism, on the ground of my being at that period a friend to the poor. In the first place, I believe that charity and a sympathy for the sufferings of my fellow-creatures are inherent qualities of my breast; at any rate I know that I felt them in all their purity as long ago as I can remember. In the next place, I was taught to practice charity by the example of my amiable and excellent mother, who possessed as much christian charity, as well as piety, as any mortal that ever lived; she was, indeed the very milk of human kindness; and although my father taught me to exercise the virtue with more discretion, yet he never checked it.

When my father died he was the Vicar's churchwarden, as well as the principal overseer of the parish of Enford; and, of course, as I came into possession of his estates and farms in that parish, I continued in the parochial offices, as his substitute, till the next Easter. During that time it was a severe winter, and I exercised my own discretion, and without any ceremony raised the pay of the poor, particularly of the aged and infirm, those whose labours were done. I found their pay at two shillings and sixpence per week each; I raised it to three and sixpence each, and in some instances, as in cases of infirmity, still higher; and, when some of the parishioners mentioned their objections, to the measure, I declined to reduce the allowance, but offered to pay out of my own pocket the advance which I had made, in case of my conduct being disapproved of at a meeting or vestry. No meeting, was, however, called; nor in this large parish, where the population is above six hundred, was there any complaint made to the magistrates by any pauper against me during the whole time I was in office.

When Easter came, I being the largest paymaster in the parish, it was my turn, by rotation, to serve the office two years longer, and my name was placed at the head of the list that was sent in to the magistrates for their approval. The practice is, for the parishioners, at the annual Easter meeting, to send in a list of three or four names, to give the magistrates a choice in the appointment of two: but as the two names that are placed first and second are those that are considered by the resident proprietors as the proper persons, and whose turn it is to serve the office, the magistrates seldom or ever, without some very substantial reason, pass them over and appoint any of the others, whose names are placed, as a mere form, below them. In this parish, which was known to be well conducted, the circumstance of passing over the recommendation of the principal inhabitant was never known to have happened. My name being the first, I had no doubt but that I should be obliged to remain in this disagreeable and troublesome office. I was, however, deceived. My disposition to give to the poor more liberal relief than had been heretofore granted to them, had been too evident during the short time that, in the winter season, I had been in office. The considerable and permanent advance that I had made to all the old people in the parish, who were no longer able to labour, had got wind, and this was canvassed amongst the magistrates, who were all farmers, some of them very large farmers in the neighbourhood; and who should be the magistrates of this district, but the valorous officers of the gallant Everly troop, Messrs. ASTLEY, POORE, and DYKE, the latter being nearly as large a farmer as myself, and employing a great number of labourers! It never entered into my head for a moment that I should be objected to; on the contrary, I should rather have expected that this worthy bench of JUSTASSES would have been pleased with the opportunity of fixing me in what was generally considered a troublesome and harassing office; one which in such a large parish would require a considerable portion of a man's time to execute it properly: even when there was least to be done, it occupied three or four hours every other Sunday to attend in the vestry room, at the pay table, to hear the complaints and to relieve the wants of those who were in distress. This I had never neglected, nor left, as others had frequently done, to the care of servants.

The parish books were returned from the justices, and lo and behold! my name was passed over, and a little apron farmer was appointed in my stead. At the first view of the case, I felt a weighty responsibility and trouble taken, as it were, off my shoulders; and I was, as I conceived, released from a great deal of labour which I had anticipated; and I heartily despised the petty malice, the little dirty insult, intended me by the magistrates, who, in their desire to annoy me, had in fact rendered me a great service. On my speaking of it in this way to my old housekeeper, who first brought me the news, she archly addressed me as follows:--"Ah, sir! I know your heart too well to believe that this will save you any trouble. Though you are not in office, yet as you pay so much towards the relief of the poor, and feel so much for them, you will not desert them. You will, I am sure, still attend the pay table and see justice done them at any rate." This was quite enough for me. While she was speaking, a thousand ideas crowded my imagination, and like lightening, I resolved to put them into execution. I said nothing, but the next Sunday, after the service of the day was over, I attended the pay table, as I had constantly done while I held the office. It was so unusual for any one to attend but the two overseers, that it was instantly noticed by the poor who were in waiting. I sat silent, but that was quite enough; every one was paid the same as they had been the week before, when I was the paymaster; though I knew that it had been agreed upon to dock them.

There was scarcely a single servant of my own whose name was upon the books; for my wish was, that they should always earn sufficient by their labour to support their families, without going to the parish. While I was in office myself, I acted on this system, without making any remonstrance with those farmers who paid their labourers about half price, and sent them to the parish for the remaining sum which was required for their support. But I now made up my mind not to bear this grievance any longer, without an effort to remove it. I, therefore, got the overseers to call a special meeting at the vestry, to take these matters into consideration. At this meeting I proposed that every farmer in the parish should raise his servants' wages, to enable them to keep their families; at any rate those who were able bodied men. There was scarcely any objection made to this, and it was carried unanimously. But I soon found that this measure was eluded, and of course would not answer. Several of the farmers turned off half their servants, and others all of them, and hired servants out of the parish, whom they could procure for less wages. I, however, always persisted in engaging my servants to earn enough to keep themselves and families without going to the parish; which most of them did, till all sorts of provisions were risen to double if not treble their usual price.

One thing I shall here forestall, which is the fact that I continued for nine years afterwards to occupy a very great portion of the parish, and consequently to pay a great portion of the parish rates; but, though my name was placed at the head of the list and sent in to the magistrates, every Easter during that time, yet I was never appointed the overseer of the poor; and this because I had set an example of too great liberality towards them when I was in office. Notwithstanding this, I never failed to advocate, and with success, the cause of the aged, the infirm, the widow, and the orphan, not only in my own parishes, but also in those surrounding me; and every act of oppression that was practised in the district where I lived was always communicated to me, and as far as I had it in my power I obtained redress for the oppressed. I very soon, therefore became an object of suspicion and dread amongst the petty tyrants of that district; and by them I was denominated "a busy meddling fellow;" but as a set off to this, I received the thanks, the blessings of the poor, and the love of my servants, whom I looked upon as my friends and neighbours. I had as much work done for my money as any man; I paid my servants well; but I did what was of much more consequence to my interest. I treated them with kindness, and addressed them as fellow-creatures and fellow-freemen; instead of doing as many did, and which is unhappily much too frequently the practice, to treat labourers and servants as if they were brutes and slaves. By these means I managed a very large business with the greatest ease imaginable. My servants looked up to me as a friend and protector; as one who was at all times ready to stand forward to shield them from any oppression; and, on the other hand, I placed the greatest confidence in them to guard my property and my interest: I was seldom deceived; for I not only found them faithful at that time, but they are grateful even to this day. All this I attribute solely to my always treating them with kindness and justice. No part of their affection did I ever obtain by any unfair or surreptitious means. I never encouraged indolence, idleness, or profligacy of any sort, and an habitual drunkard I never kept in my service.

Contrary to my father's advice, I still continued in the Marlborough Troop of Yeomanry Cavalry. His last words were, however, quite prophetic as to the danger that I was in, by remaining amongst a set of men whose notions were so very far from being actuated by a pure love of country. Still, as the threat of invasion continued to be held up to the country as likely to be executed, I could not make up my mind to quit their ranks. I felt an ardour to be one of the first to meet a foreign foe, if ever they dared to invade us, and I therefore continued to join the troop as often as it was convenient; and as I was perfectly acquainted with my duty, and resolved to perform it, I was never once fined for any breach of the rules or regulations, which were made and agreed to for the guidance of the members of the troop; and I was upon particular good terms with the commander of it, Lord Bruce, the eldest son of the Earl of Aylesbury, who always treated me with polite attention.

The officers of the Everly Troop of Yeomanry had, as they thought, offered me an insult, and one which I had no power to resent; they were his Majesty's Justices of the Peace, and if they chose to mix up their revenge with their duty of conservators of the peace, I had no power to prevent it, nor, as they kept their own council, could I ever remonstrate. Aware, as I was, of the insult intended by their passing over my name; yet, as I was glad to be out of the office, and had taken such a course as would enable me to protect the poor from any partial or unjust treatment, and as I still was appointed the Vicar's Churchwarden, I felt little or no resentment on that account. I had expected neither candour, liberality nor justice from them, and they had not disappointed me; I was therefore quite indifferent on that score. But as my father always had a sort of presentiment that something would turn out unpleasant to me before I got quit of the volunteer service, I was exceedingly guarded in all my movements in the Marlborough troop; and was particularly careful never to omit any part of my duty, or to do any thing in violation of the rules or regulations; and I believe that I was almost the only man in the troop that had not been fined over and over again. In fact, as the fines were very moderate--for instance, I believe it was only half a crown for being absent from the field days, and not even that if there were a reasonable excuse for non-attendance--they did not inspire the members with much dread. This was the only punishment for non-attendance.

In the midst of all my fancied security, a circumstance, however, occurred that proved all my father's prognostications to be well founded. The reader will not have forgotten that I was become an expert sportsman; and, agreeable to my usual enthusiasm in all that I undertook, he will not be surprised to hear that I was also become what is called a good shot. During the month of September I had killed one hundred and twenty brace of partridges, and I was engaged to take the first day's pheasant shooting, on the first of October, with my friend and comrade, Mr. Thos. Hancock, the banker, of Marlborough. Lord Aylesbury, the proprietor of Marlborough Forest, possessed very extensive estates and large manors round this district, almost the whole of which he made one large preserve of game; but, as it was necessary that he should keep his tools, the members of the corporation of his rottenest of rotten close boroughs, Marlborough, in good humour, he allotted one small manor, at a distance of several miles from his principal preserve, where all his tenants and the inhabitants of the town of Marlborough and their friends, were allowed to shoot and sport without interruption, whenever they pleased. To this place my friend Hancock had promised to take me for a day's sport; he himself being, as will presently appear, a very poor shot. I went to Mr. Hancock's to sleep the night previously, and, like a true and keen sportsman, I was up and dressed, eager for the sport, before it was day-light. In fact, it was necessary that we should be early, as there was a host of cockney and other sportsmen, who always sallied forth from Marlborough on that day; and as the manor was not large the ground was generally pretty thickly occupied before sun rise on the first of October; for it will be recollected that, on these gala days, "tag, rag, and bobtail," all had leave, whether they were qualified or not, and all who professed to be sportsmen hurried there, whether they had certificates or not.

My friend and myself, attended by our servants, mounted our horses, and as we rode along we passed two or three parties who were on foot, and who had got the start of us; but we soon reached farmer Edward Vezey's, of Grove, upon whose farm we intended to take our day's sport. As we had ridden a distance of four or five miles the sun was now up, and as we heard several shots fired we put up our horses and proceeded immediately to the field; being too eager sportsmen to wait to take the breakfast which Mrs. Vezey had prepared for us. The farmer informed us that the game was very plentiful; and when we entered the first stubble field, we saw a nide of fourteen pheasants run into the hedge row. This was a fine earnest of our sport; and as I had never before been a shooting where they were so plenty, I expressed great anxiety to begin the slaughter without delay. The farmer, however, checked my ardour, and increased my surprise when he told me that he had ten such nides upon his farm. The sport began; and, having a double barrelled gun, I killed a brace, a cock and a hen; my friend and the farmer both missed. The latter requested me not to kill hens, as he would procure me plenty of shots at cocks. We had with us my dogs, which were staunch and steady, and they were now pointing again. I brought down a brace of cocks with another double shot. My friends both missed again, and laughed heartily at each other; particularly when they found that I was sure to kill enough for all the party. As we proceeded I killed a leash more, so that I had three brace and a half out of the first nide of fourteen. Several of the others had been marked down, and the farmer said we were sure to find them all again; but I proposed to look for fresh birds, instead of following those which had escaped. This was agreed to; and, at the further end of the very next field which we entered, we discovered another set running into the hedge row. When ten o'clock arrived I proposed a cessation of hostilities, that we might retire and take some breakfast; for I declared that I was ashamed to kill any more. I had had twenty shots, and had bagged nine brace and a half of cocks and one hen pheasant; having been lucky enough, as my dogs brought all their game, to save every bird without a feather being scarcely rumpled. My friends had thirty shots between them, and had killed one bird; in fact, they were altogether as bad shots as I was a good one.--Though, during the whole time, we had not been a quarter of a mile from the house, yet, I believe that while I was out, I heard at least a hundred shots fired--so thickly were we surrounded with the rotten borough sportsmen and their friends. After this we returned to the farmer's house, where Mrs. Vezey had provided an excellent breakfast, not only for us but for my dogs, which were caressed as prodigies; and the game, consisting of ten brace of cock pheasants and a hen, was spread in triumph on the floor.