he butler, who took so much care of
me last summer when I was at the Knight's house. As my friend the butler
mentions, in the simplicity of his heart, several circumstances the
others have passed over in silence, I shall give my reader a copy of his
letter, without any alteration or diminution.

HONOURED SIR,

Knowing that you was[194] my old master's good friend, I could not
forbear sending you the melancholy news of his death, which has
afflicted the whole country[195], as well as his poor servants, who
loved him, I may say, better than we did our lives. I am afraid he
caught his death the last country sessions, where he would go to
see justice done to a poor widow woman and her fatherless
children, that had been wronged by a neighbouring gentleman; for
you know, Sir, my good master was always the poor man's friend.
Upon his coming home, the first complaint he made was, that he had
lost his roast-beef stomach, not being able to touch a sirloin,
which was served up according to custom; and you know he used to
take great delight in it. From that time forward he grew worse and
worse, but still kept a good heart to the last. Indeed we were once
in great hope of his recovery, upon a kind message that was sent
him from the Widow Lady whom he had made love to the forty last
years of his life; but this only proved a lightning[196] before
death. He has bequeathed to this lady, as a token of his love, a
great pearl necklace, and a couple of silver bracelets set with
jewels, which belonged to my good old lady his mother: he has
bequeathed the fine white gelding, that he used to ride a-hunting
upon, to his chaplain, because 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 frieze 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 grey-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.