store-rooms. Utensils grew rusty, wine spoiled; reams of paper were eaten by the mice, or mildewed by the damp; carpenters' work lay unserviceable from an over-supply; mats rotted; candles, almonds, raisins, dried figs, cocoa, honey, cheese—no matter what—all was laid by in destructive profusion; and every year half was consumed by rats, ants, and other vermin, or otherwise spoiled. One store-room, which was filled with locked-up trunks, full of what was most valuable, had not been entered for three years: and, oh! what ruin and waste did I not discover!
When I told her of all this, and suggested that it would be better to give them to her poor pensioners, she said—"Such things never cause me a moment's thought: I would rather they should have been used to some good purpose; but, if I have got such rascals about me, why, let the things all rot, sooner than that they should profit by them. Money can replace all that; and, if God sends me money, I will do so; if he does not, he knows best what should be: and it would not give me a moment's sorrow to lie down in a cottage with only rags enough to keep me warm. I would not, even then, change places with Lord Grosvenor, the Duke of Devonshire, the Duke of Buckingham, or any of them: they can't do what I can; so of what use are all their riches? I have seen some of them make such a fuss about the
