Now, therefore, you see how this once handsome lordling--and handsome as Apollo he was in his younger days, I have heard his wife say, though wicked as Satan--was brought so low that, from ruffling it with the best, he came to dying in a filthy garret and being buried at the public expense. Alas, alas! who can help but weep and wring their hands when they think on such a thing, and when they reflect on all the evil that Gerald, Lord St. Amande, wrought in his life and the bitter heritage of woe he left behind to those whom he should, instead, have loved and cherished, and made good provision for. 'Twas a dull November day, in the year of our Lord, 1727, and the first of the reign of our present King George II., that the funeral procession--if so poor and mean an interment as this may be so termed--passed over Essex Bridge on its way to the burying ground where the body was to be deposited. Yet how think you a future peer of the realm should be taken to his last home, how think you one of his rank should be taken farewell of? This man had once held the King's commission, he having carried the colours of his regiment at Donauwerth and been present as a lieutenant at Tirlemont, at both of which the great Marlborough had commanded--therefore upon his coffin there should have been a sword and a sash at least, with, perhaps, a flag. He stood near unto a marquisate, therefore his coffin should have been covered with purple velvet and the plate upon it should have been of silver. Yet there were no such things. His swords, you know by now, were pawned; his sashes had gone the way of his laces, apparel and handsome wigs. The bier on which he was drawn was, therefore, but a common thing on which the bodies of beggars, of Liffey watermen and of coach-drivers were often also drawn; the coffin was a poor, deal encasement with, nailed roughly on it, some black cloth; the name-plate bearing the description of his rank and standing--oh, hollow mockery!--was of tin. And yet even this was obtained but at the public expense!