The present Mr. Arkwright, son of Sir Richard, is between seventy and
eighty, and by the power of unparalleled capital and habits of frugality,
he is considered the most wealthy person in Europe. I heard his
accumulations estimated at six, eight, and even ten millions; and he
spends but 2 or £3,000. per annum. He has eight children, and provides
liberally for them, and I heard some anecdotes of his munificence to the
deserving, but do not consider myself at liberty to repeat them. His
habits lead him to continue in business, though the profits are now
trifling. Those of his father and his own, formerly, were 2 or 300 per
cent, but competition has now rendered them nearly nominal.

_A Village Funeral_.

At Ashford, my sympathy was strongly excited by the procession of a
village funeral, in which the affections of the people seemed concerned.
I found on inquiry, that the corpse was the wife of the schoolmaster,
who, in her prime, and in the enjoyment of general esteem, had been cut
off in childbirth. The clergyman headed the procession. The coffin was
borne by eight females, in white hoods and scarfs, and was followed by
the unhappy husband, who conferred great effect, in the display of his
grief, by carrying in his arms two young children, the offspring of the
deceased. A long train of mourners followed, and I question whether more
tears are shed, or more sensibility exhausted, at funerals accompanied
with heraldic pomp, than in this simple display of natural affection. I
drew up my horse as the procession passed, and the affair threw a gloom
over my spirits, in which it seemed as though the village at large
partook. The funeral group, with the father and his children, and the
sorrowful countenances of the well disposed population, would have made
a beautiful subject for a sentimental painter.