came near her, and when she was dead much difficulty was found in discovering any persons who had claim to her inheritance.
She died quite suddenly, and left no will.
Her trustees had to advertise before they could find relations, and then those who presented themselves were the children of her father by a third wife. Her dogs and cats were first killed, then several old horses that were dragging themselves about the field in extreme old age.
Her plate and pictures were sold.
To the best of my knowledge no portrait of her remains.
She was a fine woman, and must at one time have been handsome. It was fancied by many that her features bore a resemblance to the pictures of George IV. in his young days. The mystery relative to her mother and uncle was never solved, and it is possible enough that the supposed paternity was due to idle gossip.
There were vast collections of letters among the remains, but these were all destroyed, and nothing was allowed to transpire as to their contents.
The story from beginning to end is one of infinite sadness. It is of one with a remarkably strong but undisciplined character, one full of good impulses, who had never been taught religious duty, and given no religious belief, who was therefore condemned to waste a profitless life in a remote village, without purpose, without self-discipline, without hope, without God.
There are some interesting old farmhouses about
