Robyn’s own family—scattered and busy as they were—came to see him sometimes. He says himself that his sister, Lady Ranelagh, was “almost always with him during his sickness”;[149] and his brother Frank seems to have been a welcome and cheerful guest at Stalbridge; while Robyn himself rode over now and then to Marston Bigot, when “dear Broghill” and Lady Pegg were there. But his laboratory and his “standish” and books, and especially his correspondence with Hartlib in London, were a great resource. It was at this time that he was writing the little essays he spoke of to Marcombes. Among them was his _Free Discourse against Customary Swearing_, which in manuscript pleased his relations, and was dedicated to his sister Kildare.[150] And it was then also that he was writing his _Occasional Reflections upon Several Subjects_, which so delighted Lady Ranelagh.[151] They afford many glimpses into Robert Boyle’s life during the years spent at Stalbridge. He is to be seen in them as the young Squire of gentle, studious tastes and simple habits, sitting, book in hand, over the slow-burning wood fire in the parlour with the carved stone chimney-piece “fair and graceful in all respects”; or riding his horse along the up-and-down-hill Dorset lanes; angling by the side of a stream, or walking in his own meadows, with his spaniel at his heels: philosophising as he goes; observing all things always; dreaming, perhaps, a little too—within bounds. The very titles of his _Reflections_ are an epitome of the life of those Stalbridge days. The spaniel is a constant companion, in weal and woe:— _Upon my Spaniel’s carefulness not to lose me in a Strange place_, and _Upon his manner of giving Meat to his Dogg_, are two of these _Reflections_.[152] There is nothing very original in Robert Boyle’s method of feeding a dog, except that it carries with it his inevitable moral conclusions; but the youthful essay hands down the picture of master and dog to posterity:— “For but observe this Dogg. I hold him out meat, and my inviting Voice loudly encourages and invites him to take it. ’Tis held indeed higher than he can leap, and yet, if he leap not at it, I do not give it him; but if he do, I let it fall half-way into his mouth.” Spaniels have fetched their masters’ gloves from time immemorial; but none quite so graphically as Robert Boyle’s:—[153] “How importunate is he to be imployed about bringing me this glove! And with what Clamours and how many fawnings does he court me to fling it him! I never saw him so eager for a piece of Meat as I find him for a Glove. And yet he knows it is no Food for him, nor is it Hunger that creates his Longings for it; for now I have cast it him, he does nothing else with it but (with a kind of Pride to be sent for it, and a satisfaction which his glad gestures make appear so great, that the very use of Speech would not enable him to express it better) brings it me back again....”