He had searched in many quarters for somebody to help him, and with
good warrant for hoping it, inasmuch as he, in lucky days, had been
open-handed and cousinly to all who begged advice of him. But now
all these provided him with plenty of good advice indeed, and great
assurance of feeling, but not a movement of leg, or lip, or purse-string
in his favour. All good people of either persuasion, royalty or
commonalty, knowing his kitchen-range to be cold, no longer would play
turnspit. And this, it may be, seared his heart more than loss of land
and fame.

In great despair at last, he resolved to settle in some outlandish part,
where none could be found to know him; and so, in an evil day for us,
he came to the West of England. Not that our part of the world is at all
outlandish, according to my view of it (for I never found a better one),
but that it was known to be rugged, and large, and desolate. And here,
when he had discovered a place which seemed almost to be made for
him, so withdrawn, so self-defended, and uneasy of access, some of the
country-folk around brought him little offerings--a side of bacon, a
keg of cider, hung mutton, or a brisket of venison; so that for a little
while he was very honest. But when the newness of his coming began to
wear away, and our good folk were apt to think that even a gentleman
ought to work or pay other men for doing it, and many farmers were grown
weary of manners without discourse to them, and all cried out to one
another how unfair it was that owning such a fertile valley young men
would not spade or plough by reason of noble lineage--then the young
Doones growing up took things they would not ask for.

And here let me, as a solid man, owner of five hundred acres (whether
fenced or otherwise, and that is my own business), churchwarden also of
this parish (until I go to the churchyard), and proud to be called the