The Rev. Mr. Roscoe and his lady, who had not been at the mansion for several years, now intimated their intention to pay a visit to their brother. He was the youngest son of the family, and at an early age had decided for the church, as a profession more easy, if not so lucrative as some others. Having finished his career at Oxford, where he was more distinguished for his love of pleasure than regard for academical honours, he obtained ordination, and settled in a parish in Somersetshire. For nearly fifteen years he remained unmarried, devoting himself to a life of pleasure, and paying but little attention to the claims of his parishioners. The dignity of the priest was lowered by the imperfections of the man, and the church was forsaken for the village chapel. At length he was, by the remonstrances of his friends, induced to pursue a course more becoming the sanctity of his office; he withdrew from his former companions, abandoned the sports of the field and of the gaming table, and turned the torrent of his displeasure against those who had separated themselves from the church, on account of his former irregularities. He had reached the age of forty when he married the eldest daughter of a neighbouring magistrate, a lady distinguished by superior intelligence, and a most catholic spirit. They had two children, who both died in infancy. So deeply wounded was the heart of the mother by these bereavements, that she long abandoned herself to the agonies of grief; and though time had now removed its poignancy, yet she often alluded to her babes and their early death, in a tone and manner which proved that they still lived in her fond remembrance.