Bear with me a little--I mourn the "cherishers of my infancy." I sometimes count it a blessing that my father did not prove the _survivor_.

You know something of his story.

You know there was a foul tale current--it was the busy malice of that bad man, S----, which helped to spread it abroad--you will recollect the active good-nature of our friends W---- and T----; what pains they took to undeceive people--with the better sort their kind labors prevailed; but there was still a party who shut their ears.

You know the issue of it.

My father's great spirit bore up against it for some time--my father never was a _bad_ man--but that spirit was broken at the last--and the greatly-injured man was forced to leave his old paternal dwelling in Staffordshire--for the neighbors had begun to point at him.