of his servant, and some for himself, being alone in a strange place;
however he took courage, ordered his servant's funeral, attended it
himself, and, having shed a tear of humanity over his grave, proceeded
alone on his journey.

As he drew near the estate of his friend, he began to enquire of every
one he met, whether the Lord Lovel resided at the seat of his
ancestors? He was answered by one, he did not know; by another, he
could not tell; by a third, that he never heard of such a person. Sir
Philip thought it strange that a man of Lord Lovel's consequence should
be unknown in his own neighbourhood, and where his ancestors had
usually resided. He ruminated on the uncertainty of human happiness.
"This world," said he, "has nothing for a wise man to depend upon. I
have lost all my relations, and most of my friends; and am even
uncertain whether any are remaining. I will, however, be thankful for
the blessings that are spared to me; and I will endeavour to replace
those that I have lost. If my friend lives, he shall share my fortune
with me; his children shall have the reversion of it; and I will share
his comforts in return. But perhaps my friend may have met with
troubles that have made him disgusted with the world; perhaps he has
buried his amiable wife, or his promising children; and, tired of
public life, he is retired into a monastery. At least, I will know what
all this silence means."

When he came within a mile of the Castle of Lovel, he stopped at a
cottage and asked for a draught of water; a peasant, master of the
house, brought it, and asked if his honour would alight and take a
moment's refreshment. Sir Philip accepted his offer, being resolved to
make farther enquiry before he approached the castle. He asked the same
questions of him, that he had before of others.