Mr. Percy fortunately possessed, independently of the Percy estate, a farm worth about seven or eight hundred a year, which he had purchased with part of his wife’s fortune; on which he had built a lodge, that he had intended for the future residence of one of his sons. _The Hills_ was the name of this lodge, to which all the family now retired. Though it was in the same county with Percy-hall, Clermont-park, Falconer-court, Hungerford-castle, and within reach of several other gentlemen’s seats, yet from its being in a hilly part of the country, through which no regular road had been made, it was little frequented, and gave the idea not only of complete retirement, but of remoteness. Though a lonely situation, it was, however, a beautiful one. The house stood on the brow of a hill, and looked into a deep glen, through the steep descent of which ran a clear and copious rivulet rolling over a stony bed; the rocks were covered with mountain flowers, and wild shrubs--But nothing is more tiresome than a picture in prose: we shall, therefore, beg our readers to recall to their imagination some of the views they may have seen in Wales, and they will probably have a better idea of this place than any that we could give by the most laboured description, amplified with all the epithets in the English language. The house at the Hills, though finished, was yet but scantily furnished, and was so small that it could hardly hold the family, who were now obliged to take refuge in it. However, they were well disposed to accommodate each other: they had habits of order, and had so little accustomed themselves to be waited upon, that this sudden change in their fortune and way of life did not appear terrible, as it would to many in the same rank. Undoubtedly they felt the loss of real conveniences, but they were not tormented with ideal wants, or with the pangs of mortified vanity. Evils they had to bear, but they were not the most dreadful of all evils--those of the imagination. Mr. Percy, to whom his whole family looked for counsel and support, now showed all the energy and decision of his character. What he knew must be done sooner or later he did decidedly at first. The superfluities to which his family had been accustomed, were instantly abandoned. The great torment of decayed gentry is the remembrance of their former station, and a weak desire still to appear what their fortune no longer allows them to be. This folly Mr. Percy had not to combat in his family, where all were eager to resign even more of their own comforts than the occasion required. It was the object now for the family who were at home to live as frugally as possible, that they might save as much of their small income as they could, to assist and forward the sons in their professions.