of a different kind. He avowed that he had not forgiven him his partial
attachment to Mr. Falkland, and therefore could not recall his
remembrance with kindness. But if he could have overlooked his past
injustice, sufficient care, it seems, was taken to keep alive his
resentment. "Falkland, forsooth, attended him on his death-bed, as if
nobody else were worthy of his confidential communications." But what
was worst of all was this executorship. "In every thing this pragmatical
rascal throws me behind. Contemptible wretch, that has nothing of the
man about him! Must he perpetually trample upon his betters? Is every
body incapable of saying what kind of stuff a man is made of? caught
with mere outside? choosing the flimsy before the substantial? And upon
his death-bed too? [Mr. Tyrrel with his uncultivated brutality mixed, as
usually happens, certain rude notions of religion.] Sure the sense of
his situation might have shamed him. Poor wretch! his soul has a great
deal to answer for. He has made my pillow uneasy; and, whatever may be
the consequences, it is he we have to thank for them."

The death of Mr. Clare removed the person who could most effectually
have moderated the animosities of the contending parties, and took away
the great operative check upon the excesses of Mr. Tyrrel. This rustic
tyrant had been held in involuntary restraint by the intellectual
ascendancy of his celebrated neighbour: and, notwithstanding the general
ferocity of his temper, he did not appear till lately to have
entertained a hatred against him. In the short time that had elapsed
from the period in which Mr. Clare had fixed his residence in the
neighbourhood, to that of the arrival of Mr. Falkland from the
Continent, the conduct of Mr. Tyrrel had even shown tokens of
improvement. He would indeed have been better satisfied not to have had
even this intruder into a circle where he had been accustomed to reign.
But with Mr. Clare he could have no rivalship; the venerable character