My father was puzzled about a lady who lived at Moreton, where she could not possibly have many interests in life, yet seemed as active-minded and alert as if she mixed in the great world. He spent some time one afternoon in conversation with her, trying to discover where her interests lay; but the only thing that was elicited was this--she always made a point of knowing what everyone in Moreton had for dinner on a Sunday. Very small things made a great commotion in a little town like that. There is a letter to my father from a friend there, 30 June 1843--“We had Sand’s Horsemen here on Friday last, who managed to take about 100_l_, which is a larger sum than they took in Exeter in one day or almost any other place. All the Beauty, Rank and Wealth of the neighbourhood for some miles were present--quite grand for Moreton--indeed I never saw so many persons in Moreton before. ***** and his wife came to my house and brought two Miss *****s, and I escorted one of them to the Horsemanship. Next day I was told that people said I was after Miss ***** and the cash--she has about 7000_l._ I am thoroughly sick of these reports.” Not many years ago a man at Moreton said something slanderous about another man there. He was threatened with an action, and compromised it by agreeing to publish an apology and devote a sum of money to any public purpose that the injured party chose to name. The public purpose was chosen very astutely--taking the whitewash off the almshouses, a fine old granite building dated 1637. The building is mentioned in the guide-books, and many people go to see it. Finding it improved, they ask about it; and then (as the astute man had foreseen) they hear the story of the other man’s discomfiture. In another country town a man did something that really was discreditable; but people went on exaggerating it until at last they dropped the real facts out, as these were much too trivial to be worth mentioning in such a lurid tale. And thus he found himself in a position to deny it all on oath. So he denied it, threatening prosecutions, and received a whitewashing that he did not at all deserve, the local papers denouncing “these unjustifiable aspersions on a man of blameless life.” When people had to see a lawyer, they seldom told him the whole tale, and thus got bad advice, unless he knew enough of their affairs beforehand to enable him to get at all the facts. They would never trust a lawyer if he kept a clerk, and hesitated if he were in partnership, feeling that a clerk was sure to gossip and a partner might. And thus the little country towns were full of lawyers with small practices, each doing his own office work. There is a letter to my father, 12 September 1852, from a lawyer at Moreton, a very able man, who died in early life from no complaint but being bored to death. He says--“I copied 29 sheets draft and engrossed a deed and settled two mortgages and a lease yesterday: hard work that.”