Mr. Cecil, assuming the name of Jones, some years since, purchased a
small piece of land, and built on it a neat house on the edge of a
common in Wiltshire. Here he long resided, unknowing, and almost
unknown, by the neighbourhood. Various conjectures were formed
respecting this solitary and singular stranger; at length a clergyman
took some notice of him, and occasionally inviting him to his house, he
found him possessed of intelligence and manners, which evidently
indicated his origin to have been in the higher stations of life.
Returning one day from a visit at this clergyman’s, he passed the house
of a farmer, at the door of which was the daughter employed at the
washing-tub. He looked at the girl a moment, and thus accosted her.--“My
girl, would you like to be married?” “Sir!” exclaimed the girl.---“I
asked you, young woman, whether you would wish to be married; because,
if you would, I will marry you,” “Lord, Sir! these are strange questions
from a man I never saw in my life before.” “Very likely,” replied Mr.
Jones; “but, however, I am serious, and will leave you till ten o’clock
to-morrow to consider of it; I will then call on you again, and if I
have your and your father’s consent, we will be married the following
day.”
He kept his appointment, and meeting with the father, he thus addressed
him: “Sir, I have seen your daughter; I should like her for a wife; and
I am come to ask your consent.” “This proposal,” answered the old man,
“is very extraordinary from a perfect stranger: Pray, sir, who are you?
and what are you?” “Sir,” replied Mr. J. “you have a right to ask these
questions: my name is Jones; the new house on the edge of the common is
mine, and if it be necessary, I can purchase your house and farm, and
half the neighbourhood.”
Another hour’s conversation, brought all parties into one mind, and the
friendly clergyman aforementioned united the happy pair. Three or four
years they lived in this retirement, and were blessed with two children.
Mr. J. employed great part of his time in improving his wife’s mind, but
never disclosing his own origin. At length, upon taking a journey of
pleasure with her, while remarking the beauties of the country, he
noticed and named the different gentlemen’s seats as they passed; and
coming to a very magnificent one, “This, my dear,” said he, “is Burleigh
house, the seat of the earl of Exeter, and, if you please, we will go in
and ask leave to look at it: it is an elegant house, and probably will
amuse you.”
The nobleman who possessed this mansion was lately dead. He once had a
nephew, who, in the gaities of his youth, had incurred some debts, on
account of which he had retired from fashionable life on about 200l. per
annum, and had not been heard of for some years. This nephew was the
identical Mr. Jones, the hero of our story, who now took possession of
the house, title, and estate, and is the present earl of Exeter!
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