That venerable person had been much disturbed with thoughts of what he had been, and what he now was; and natural recollections of the past had interfered considerably with the active duty which in his present situation might have been expected from him. He was fortunate, however, in one respect; he had got rid of his clerk Jobson, who had finally left him in dudgeon at his inactivity, and become legal assistant to a certain Squire Standish, who had lately commenced operations in those parts as a justice, with a zeal for King George and the Protestant succession, which, very different from the feelings of his old patron, Mr. Jobson had more occasion to restrain within the bounds of the law, than to stimulate to exertion. Old Justice Inglewood received me with great courtesy, and readily exhibited my uncle's will, which seemed to be without a flaw. He was for some time in obvious distress, how he should speak and act in my presence; but when he found, that though a supporter of the present Government upon principle, I was disposed to think with pity on those who had opposed it on a mistaken feeling of loyalty and duty, his discourse became a very diverting medley of what he had done, and what he had left undone,--the pains he had taken to prevent some squires from joining, and to wink at the escape of others, who had been so unlucky as to engage in the affair. We were _tete-a'-tete,_ and several bumpers had been quaffed by the Justice's special desire, when, on a sudden, he requested me to fill a _bona fide_ brimmer to the health of poor dear Die Vernon, the rose of the wilderness, the heath-bell of Cheviot, and the blossom that's transplanted to an infernal convent. "Is not Miss Vernon married, then?" I exclaimed, in great astonishment. "I thought his Excellency"-- "Pooh! pooh! his Excellency and his Lordship's all a humbug now, you know--mere St. Germains titles--Earl of Beauchamp, and ambassador plenipotentiary from France, when the Duke Regent of Orleans scarce knew that he lived, I dare say. But you must have seen old Sir Frederick Vernon at the Hall, when he played the part of Father Vaughan?" "Good Heavens! then Vaughan was Miss Vernon's father?" "To be sure he was," said the Justice coolly;--"there's no use in keeping the secret now, for he must be out of the country by this time--otherwise, no doubt, it would be my duty to apprehend him.--Come, off with your bumper to my dear lost Die! And let her health go round, around, around, And let her health go round; For though your stocking be of silk, Your knees near kiss the ground, aground, aground."* * This pithy verse occurs, it is believed, in Shadwell's play of Bury Fair. I was unable, as the reader may easily conceive, to join in the Justice's jollity. My head swam with the shock I had received. "I never heard," I said, "that Miss Vernon's father was living."