mortgaged, and bonds out
against him, for he was never cured of his gaming tricks; but that was
the only fault he had, God bless him!

Then it was given out, by mistake, that my lady was dead, and the three
ladies showed their brothers Sir Kit's letters, and claimed his
promises. His honour said he was willing to meet any man who questioned
his conduct, and the ladies must settle among themselves who was to be
his second, while his first was alive, to his mortification and theirs.
He met the first lady's brother, and shot him; next day called out the
second, whose wooden leg stuck fast in the ploughed land, so Sir Kit,
with great candour, fired over his head, whereupon they shook hands
cordially, and went home together to dinner.

To establish his sister's reputation this gentleman went out as Sir
Kit's second next day, when he met the last of his adversaries. He had
just hit the toothpick out of his enemy's hand, when he received a ball
in a vital part, and was brought home speechless in a hand-barrow. We
got the key out of his pocket at once, and my son Jason ran to release
her ladyship. She would not believe but that it was some new trick till
she saw the men bringing Sir Kit up the avenue. There was no life in
him, and he was "waked" the same night.

The country was all in an uproar about him, and his murderer would have
been hanged surely, but he prudently withdrew to the Continent.

My lady got surprisingly well, and no sooner was it known that Sir Kit
was dead than all the country came round in a body, as it were, to set
her free. But she had taken an unaccountable prejudice against the
country, and was not easy, but when she was packing up to leave us, I
considered her quite as a foreigner, and no longer part of the family.
Her diamond cross was at the bottom of it all; and it was a shame for
her, being his wife, not to have given it up to him when he condescended
to ask for it so often, especially when he made it no secret he had
married her for her money.

_III.--Sir Condy_

The new heir, Sir Conolly, commonly called Sir Condy, was the most
universally beloved man I ever saw or heard of. He was ever my white-
headed boy, when he used to live in a small but slated house at the end
of the avenue, before he went to college. He had little fortune of his
own, and a deal of money was spent on his education. Many of the tenants
secretly advanced him cash upon his promising bargains of leases, and
lawful i