University of Virginia Library

THE WIDOW'S RETINUE.

In giving an account of the arrival of
Lady Lillycraft at the Hall, I ought to
have mentioned the entertainment which
I derived from witnessing the unpacking
of her carriage, and the disposing of her
retinue. There is something extremely
amusing to me in the number of factitious
wants, the loads of imaginary conveniences,
but real incumbrances, with which
the luxurious are apt to burden themselves.
I like to watch the whimsical
stir and display about one of these petty
progresses. The number of robustious
footmen and retainers of all kinds, bustling
about, with looks of infinite gravity
and importance, to do almost nothing.
The number of heavy trunks, and parcels,
and handboxes belonging to my
lady; and the solicitude exhibited about
some humble, odd-looking box, by my
lady's maid; the cushions piled in the
carriage to make a soft seat still softer,
and to prevent the dreaded possibility of
a jolt; the smelling-bottles, the cordials,
the basket of biscuit and fruit; the
new publications; all provided to guard
against hunger, fatigue, or ennui; the
led-horses to vary the mode of travelling;
and all this preparation and parade
to move, perhaps, some very good-fornothing
personage about a little space of
earth!

I do not mean to apply the latter part
of these observations to Lady Lillycraft,
for whose simple kind-heartedness I have
a very great respect, and who is really a
most amiable and worthy being. I cannot
refrain, however, from mentioning
some of the motley retinue she has
brought with her; and which, indeed,
bespeak the overflowing kindness of her
nature, which requires her to be surrounded
with objects on which to lavish
it.

In the first place, her ladyship has a
pampered coachman, with a red face, and
cheeks that hang down like dew-laps.
He evidently domineers over her a little
with respect to the fat horses; and only
drives out when he thinks proper, and
when he thinks it will be "good for the
cattle."

She has a favourite page to attend upon
her person; a handsome boy of about
twelve years of age, but a mischievous
varlet, very much spoiled, and in a fair
way to be good for nothing. He is
dressed in green, with a profusion of gold
cord and gilt buttons about his clothes.
She always has one or two attendants of
the kind, who are replaced by others as
soon as they grow to fourteen years of
age. She has brought two dogs with her
also, out of a number of pets which she
maintains at home. One is a fat spaniel,
called Zephyr—though heaven defend me
from such a zephyr! He is fed out of
all shape and comfort; his eyes are
nearly strained out of his head; he
wheezes with corpulency, and cannot
walk without great difficulty. The other
is a little, old, gray-muzzled curmudgeon,
with an unhappy eye, that kindles like a
coal if you only look at him; his nose
turns up; his mouth is drawn into
wrinkles, so as to show his teeth; in
short, he has altogether the look of a dog
far gone in misanthropy, and totally sick
of the world. When he walks, he has
his tail curled up so tight that it seems to
lift his feet from the ground; and he
seldom makes use of more than three
legs at a time, keeping the other drawn
up as a reserve. This last wretch is
called Beauty.

These dogs are full of elegant ailme