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. He has bequeathed a great deal more in
charity, which is not yet come to my knowledge, and it is
peremptorily[197] said in the parish, that he has left money to
build a steeple to the church; for he was heard to say some time
ago, that if he lived two years longer, Coverley church should have
a steeple to it. The chaplain tells everybody that he made a very
good end, and never speaks of him without tears. He was buried
according to his own directions, among the family of the Coverleys,
on the left hand of his father Sir Arthur. The coffin was carried
by six of his tenants, and the pall held by six of the Quorum: the
whole parish followed the corpse with heavy hearts, and in their
mourning suits, the men in frieze, and the women in riding-hoods.
Captain Sentry, my master's nephew, has taken possession of the
hall-house, and the whole estate. When my old master saw him, a
little before his death, he shook him by the hand, and wished him
joy of the estate which was falling to him, desiring him only to
make a good use of it, and to pay the several legacies, and the
gifts of charity which he told him he had left as quit-rents[198]
upon the estate. The captain truly seems a courteous man, though he
says but little. He makes much of those whom my master loved, and
shows great kindnesses to the old house-dog, that you know my poor
master was so fond of. It would have gone to your heart to have
heard the moans the dumb creature made on the day of my master's
death. He has never joyed himself since; no more has any of us. It
was the melancholiest day for the poor people that ever happened in
Worcestershire. This is all from,
Honoured Sir,
Your most sorrowful servant,
EDWARD BISCUIT.
P.S.--My master desired, some weeks before he died, that a book
which comes up to you by the carrier, should be given to Sir Andrew
Freeport, in his name.
This letter, notwithstanding the poor butler's manner of writing it, gave
us such an idea of our good old friend, that upon the reading of it there
was not a dry eye in the club. Sir Andrew opening the book, found it to
be a collection of Acts of Parliament. There was in particular the Act
of Uniformity, with some passages in it marked by Sir Roger's own hand.
Sir Andrew found that they related to two or three points, which he had
disputed with Sir Roger the last time he appeared at the club. Sir
Andrew, who would have been merry at such an incident on another
occasion, at the sight of the old man's handwriting burst into tears, and
put the book into his pocket. Captain Sentry informs me, that the Knight
has left rings and mourning for every one in the club.