poulterers did not pay him for what they had: we merely mean to say, that
the preserve-worshiping, springgun-setting, poacher-committing baronet
administered justice for nothing; and with reverence be it spoken, that
was quite as much as it was worth. The worthy baronet was a most active
magistrate, peculiarly acute in matters of summary conviction; and
thinking it a great pity that any rogue should escape, or that any accused,
but honest man, should lose an opportunity of clearing his character by
means of a jury of his fellow-countrymen, he never failed to commit all
that were brought before him.

Sir George professed Whig politics; these were hereditary in his family,
but by no means constitutional in him as an individual. Therefore he
passed for a very moderate Whig; for one who would not clog the wheels of
government. In short, he was no more a Whig than a game preserver ought to
be; and that, as our readers know, is not much. He took especial pains to
keep the parish clear of vagrants and paupers; and by his great activity
he kept down the poor-rates to a moderate sum. Sir George, though a
professed Whig, was not very partial to the education of the lower orders,
and he always expressed himself well pleased when he met with a country
booby who could neither read nor write. For this reason Nick Muggins, the
postboy, was a great favourite with him. Our worthy baronet could not see
the use of reading, and he thought it a great piece of affectation for
country gentlemen to have libraries. His own books, for he had a few, were
huddled together in a light closet, where he kept his guns and sporting
tackle. There was a Lady Aimwell, wife to Sir George; but this lady was a
piece of still life, of whom the neighbours knew nothing, and for whom her
husband cared nothing.

Everybody in the neighbourhood remembers the impressive admonition which
Sir George gave to an old man who was convicted at the quarter sessions of