It was in the spring of 1829 that my father received a lawyer's
letter announcing the death of James Winslow, Esquire, of Chantry
House, Earlscombe, and inviting him, as heir-at-law, to be present
at the funeral and opening of the will. The surprise to us all was
great. Even my mother had hardly heard of Chantry House itself, far
less as a possible inheritance; and she had only once seen James
Winslow. He was the last of the elder branch of the family, a third
cousin, and older than my father, who had known him in times long
past. When they had last met, the Squire of Chantry House was a
married man, with more than one child; my father a young barrister;
and as one lived entirely in the country and the other in town,
without any special congeniality, no intercourse had been kept up,
and it was a surprise to hear that he had left no surviving
children. My father greatly doubted whether being heir-at-law would
prove to avail him anything, since it was likely that so distant a
relation would have made a will in favour of some nearer connection
on his wife's or mother's side. He was very vague about Chantry
House, only knowing that it was supposed to be a fair property, and
he would hardly consent to take Griffith with him by the Western
Royal Mail, warning him and all the rest of us that our expectations
would be disappointed.

Nevertheless we looked out the gentlemen's seats in Paterson's Road
Book, and after much research, for Chantry House lay far off from
the main road, we came upon--'Chantry House, Earlscombe, the seat of
James Winslow, Esquire, once a religious foundation; beautifully
situated on a rising ground, commanding an extensive prospect--'

'A religious foundation!' cried Emily. 'It will be a dear delicious
old abbey, all Gothic architecture, with cloisters and ruins and