packet (it was a roll of
Herries's circular notes) I shall gladly accept your offer; but just now
I have more than I want--L300." "Well then, sir, come and stay at my
house, Fifth Avenue." "This is very kind, but several friends here have
specially invited me, so I am compelled to decline." "Then, sir, my
yacht in the harbour is at your service." "Pardon me, but I would rather
forget all memories of the sea at present,--with due thanks." "Then,
sir, my carriage has been waiting at the hotel all this time, let me
have the honour of taking you to see Mrs. So-and-so, who is anxious to
meet you." Of course I could not refuse this, nor the occasional loan of
his handsome turn-out whenever other friends let me go. Who knows how
nearly I then missed smiles from the blind goddess, by my sturdy refusal
of her favours, for I heard afterwards that the wealthy Mr.---- was
childless! Again, at Baltimore, after my Historical dinner (see a former
page), comes up to me a very shabby-looking man, as I thought to beg. He
sidled up and whispered that he wanted me to go home with him. I'm
afraid I rather snubbed him; but was sorry for it afterwards, when told
that he was the rich old miser So-and-so, who had never taken a fancy to
any one before. What a dolt I must have been to snub away the possible
codicil of a millionaire!

* * * * *

On page 3 of this book I proposed no mention of private domesticities or
of personal religious experiences--the one being of interest merely to
my family, the other a matter between God and the soul. However, the
recent sudden death of one for fifty years my faithful friend and
companion in marriage, urges me to record here simply her many excellent
qualities, which must not be passed by without a regretful word as if I
were a Stoic, or as if my dear good wife of half a century could be
silently forgotten by her bereaved husband and children. I began this
biography when she was in her usual health and spirits, but soon after
its commencement a fit of apoplexy took her unconsciously from our happy
circle,--and we are made to feel by this affliction, as also by another
over leaf, how truly "in the midst of life we are in death." Her body
awaits the Resurrection in Albury Churchyard, and her spirit lives with
us in affectionate remembrance.

CHAPTER XLVI.

DE BEAUVOIR CHANCERY SUIT: AND BELGRAVIA.

My lamented son, Henry de Beauvoir, active and athletic, was killed