"For want of such a ready communication with the town of Woolwich, with regard to my Family, I am subject to much inconvenience. For, the way by the gate of the Warren makes the distance to and from my house so great, that I can't have the necessary provisions brought to me as other people have, by Bakers, Butchers, Milkmen, &c., without great additional expense, and many not even for that at any rate. So that I am obliged to send my servants round about by all that way, on all occasions, to bring in all things necessary to the Family. This is not the worst of it; for all kinds of Family necessaries not being constantly to be bought in the shops in such a place as Woolwich, many things are brought only occasionally and cried about the streets, when it is matter of no small grief that such things as may then be much wanted in the family can be heard to be cried immediately behind the house, without a possibility of coming at them, but by going half a mile round about, when perhaps the servants can be least spared to go, and when they do go, it is ten to one they are disappointed by the crier then being gone quite out of sight and hearing. And besides all this, it is not always that I can prevail on my good and sober female servants to be willing so frequently to go through by the Warren gate, as it is next to an impossibility that such persons can pass so many soldiers as are generally there assembled, without sometimes being subject to rencounters disagreeable to them." The Lieutenant-Governor, who had not merely official troubles with the Masters to vex him, but had also to listen to such harrowing domestic details as those just given, was not a man to be envied. Even a hundred years later, as the student comes on this plaintive picture, his imagination begins to work, and he sees, tearing his hair in his study, the ill-fated teacher listening to the well-known cry, just over the Warren walls, which told him that some much-loved delicacy was there—so near and yet so far.