’Twas on a certain Tuesday, in the morning, that the blow fell upon me, when all the household was moved and stirred touching the great ball to be danced the next night at Puckle Acton, my lord Duke of London, the lieutenant of the county, coming over from Belfort with his duchess for to do honour to the occasion. For over two hours I had been busy in seeing that the coach and all the trappings of the horses and the men’s liveries likewise were in good order and neat, and I was preparing to ride abroad with my wife, when Loll Duss did bring me word that Sir Ambrose Spencer and Mr Waterdale desired to speak with me. And at this I was something astonished, for the first (a younger branch of the great house settled at Althorp in our county) was a very fanatical Whig, and had held little discourse with me since my remaining at home in the stead of joining King William’s army. But though amazed at his visiting at my house, I considered that he might by now be willing to be reconciled with me, and so went into the library, and found him there with his friend. “Pray be seated, Sir Ambrose, and you, sir,” says I, when I had saluted these gentlemen, and inquired after the health of my Lady Spencer. “Sir,” says Sir Ambrose, very stiff, “we are here on a business that can’t fail, I fear, to be disagreeable to you. May I inquire whether you be still minded to accept the honour of the shrievalty, or not?” “So far as I am aware, sir,” says I, something angered at his air, “I am to be sworn on Friday of this week.” “Then, sir,” saith he, “’twill be our disagreeable duty to acquaint my lord Duke, and through him his majesty, of certain facts that seem to us to unfit you, not only for this office, but even for the company of gentlemen.” “You are prodigious flattering, sir,” says I, almost believing him mad. “Pray have you forgot what is the only answer I can offer to your words?” “Sir,” says Mr Waterdale, bringing a paper from his pocket, “before Sir Ambrose or any other gentleman can place his sword at your service, the charges wrote here must be disproved. This paper is the copy of a letter wrote to Sir Ambrose by a gentleman that had the honour of your acquaintance in the Indies.” “And pray, sir,” says I, in great heat, “do you pretend to condemn me on the unsupported testimony of the letter of some adventurer that hath conceived himself disobliged by me?”