We last night received a piece of ill news at our club, which very
sensibly[192] afflicted every one of us. I question not but my readers
themselves will be troubled at the hearing of it. To keep them no longer
in suspense, Sir Roger de Coverley _is dead_. He departed this life at
his house in the country, after a few weeks' sickness. Sir Andrew
Freeport has a letter from one of his correspondents in those parts, that
informs him the old man caught a cold at the country sessions, as he was
very warmly promoting[193] an address of his own penning, in which he
succeeded according to his wishes. But this particular comes from a Whig
justice of peace, who was always Sir Roger's enemy and antagonist. I have
letters both from the chaplain and Captain Sentry, which mention nothing
of it, but are filled with many particulars to the honour of the good old
man. I have likewise a letter from the 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.