Sir Andrew Featherstone inquired of one of the spectators what was the name and character of the deceased, who seemed to have occupied so large a share in the interest and sympathy of the people of Brigland. He was informed that the name of the departed was Richard Smith; that he was a poor man whom nobody knew much about; but that lately a report was spread abroad that he was a rich man and a miser, and that, instigated probably by that report, one of the gipsies that had lately been in that neighbourhood, had broken into his cottage with the intent of robbing him; but there happened to be in the house with him at the time a foreign officer whose wife was related to Richard Smith, and this stranger wounded the gipsey so severely, that he was not able to effect his escape, and he was therefore sent off to the county jail; and that the old man was so dreadfully alarmed, that he soon after died in consequence of the fright. It appeared also from the informant, that the unusual number of persons congregated to witness the funeral was owing to the singularity of the circumstances of the old man’s death, and also to the desire felt to see the foreigner and his family; for the two females were, one of them the wife, and the other the daughter of the foreigner. The youngest of the two was the young woman of whom mention has before been made, as being the niece of old Richard Smith. This narrative happened to be somewhat more correct than many narratives which are thus picked up by an accidental inquiry. The account, however, of the motive which prompted the attendance of so many spectators of the funeral, in some degree disappointed the expectation of Lady Woodstock and her daughter; for they had promised themselves the pleasure of hearing an account of some specimen of humble virtue and extensive benevolent influence in a comparatively low sphere of life. They could not, therefore, but painfully smile at the thought that accident and unessential circumstance should excite an interest so strong and extensive.
At all events, serious feelings had been excited in the minds of the ladies; and even Sir Andrew himself partook of them, and no longer tasked his imagination for something remarkably witty or singular wherewith to amuse his companions, but very suitably and decently joined his companions in that species of talk which minds of their description would naturally have recourse to on such an occasion. And really, Sir Andrew could talk very well and very rationally when he was once set in the right key; but generally he seemed to think it necessary, in order to make himself agreeable, to be always uttering some quaint saying that should make his hearers laugh. He too often forgot that that which is very well as seasoning, is very unpalatable as food. This is a simile drawn from Sir Andrew’s favorite pursuit, which was the art of cookery, as we have above named.