Wales.' Sir Richard
Clavering, Sir Francis's-grandfather, had commenced the ruin of the
family by the building of this palace: his successor had achieved the
ruin by living in it. The present Sir Francis was abroad somewhere;
nor could anybody be found rich enough to rent that enormous mansion,
through the deserted rooms, mouldy clanking halls, and dismal galleries
of which, Arthur Pendennis many a time walked trembling when he was a
boy. At sunset, from the lawn of Fairoaks, there was a pretty sight:
it and the opposite park of Clavering were in the habit of putting on a
rich golden tinge, which became them both wonderfully. The upper windows
of the great house flamed so as to make your eyes wink; the little river
ran off noisily westward, and was lost in a sombre wood, behind which
the towers of the old abbey church of Clavering (whereby that town
is called Clavering St. Mary's to the present day) rose up in purple
splendour. Little Arthur's figure and his mother's, cast long blue
shadows over the grass; and he would repeat in a low voice (for a
scene of great natural beauty always moved the boy, who inherited this
sensibility from his mother) certain lines beginning, "These are thy
glorious works, Parent of Good; Almighty! thine this universal frame,"
greatly to Mrs. Pendennis's delight. Such walks and conversation
generally ended in a profusion of filial and maternal embraces; for to
love and to pray were the main occupations of this dear woman's life;
and I have often heard Pendennis say in his wild way, that he felt that
he was sure of going to heaven, for his mother never could be happy
there without him.

As for John Pendennis, as the father of the family, and that sort of
thing, everybody had the greatest respect for him: and his orders
were obeyed like those of the Medes and Persians. His hat was as well
brushed, perhaps, as that of any man in this empire. His meals were
served at the same minute every day, and woe to those who came late,
as little Pen, a disorderly little rascal, sometimes did. Prayers were
recited, his letters were read, his business dispatched, his stables
and garden inspected, his hen-houses and kennel, his barn and pigstye
visited, always at regular hours. After dinner he always had a nap with
the Globe newspaper on his knee, and his yellow bandanna handkerchief on
his face (Major Pendennis sent the yellow handkerchiefs from India, and
his brother had helped in the purchase of his majori