he thought he would be kind to him, and has left you
all his Books. He has, moreover, bequeathed to the Chaplain a very
pretty Tenement with good Lands about it. It being a very cold Day
when he made his Will, he left for Mourning, to every Man in the
Parish, a great Frize-Coat, and to every Woman a black Riding-hood. It
was a most moving Sight to see him take leave of his poor Servants,
commending us all for our Fidelity, whilst we were not able to speak a
Word for weeping. As we most of us are grown Gray-headed in our Dear
Master's Service, he has left us Pensions and Legacies, which we may
live very comfortably upon, the remaining part of our Days.

He has bequeath'd a great deal more in Charity, which is not yet come
to my Knowledge, and it is peremptorily said in the Parish, that he
has left Mony to build a Steeple to the Church; for he was heard to
say some time ago, that if he lived two Years longer, _Coverly_ Church
should have a Steeple to it. The Chaplain tells every body that he
made a very good End, and never speaks of him without Tears. He was
buried according to his own Directions, among the Family of the
_Coverly's_, on the Left Hand of his Father Sir _Arthur_. The Coffin
was carried by Six of his Tenants, and the Pall held up by Six of the
_Quorum_: The whole Parish follow'd the Corps with heavy Hearts, and
in their Mourning Suits, the Men in Frize, and the Women in
Riding-Hoods. Captain SENTRY, my Master's Nephew, has taken Possession
of the Hall-House, and the whole Estate. When my old Master saw him a
little before his Death, he shook him by the Hand, and wished him Joy
of the Estate which was falling to him, desiring him only to make good
Use of it, and to pay the several Legacies, and the Gifts of Charity
which he told him he had left as Quitrents upon the Estate. The
Captain truly seems a courteous Man, though he says but little. He
makes much of those whom my Master loved, and shews great Kindness to
the old House-dog, that you know my poor Master was so fond of. It
would have gone to your Heart to have heard the Moans the dumb
Creature made on the Day of my Master's Death. He has ne'er joyed
himself since; no more has any of us. 'Twas the melancholiest Day for
the poor People that ever happened in _Worcestershire_. This being all
from,

_Honoured Sir,

Your most Sorrowful Servant_,

Edward Biscuit.

_P. S._ 'My Mas