He was resolved to pursue the animal, and instantly spurring his horse, he followed it through most intricate and unfrequented roads for about ten miles, when he saw it enter a miserable house in a little village. The traveller put up his horse, and entering the same house, desired they would bring him something to drink. There were three ill-looking fellows sitting round a table, under which the dog had lain down. The traveller's object was now to find out to whom the dog belonged, he tried every means, in vain, for about an hour, when, seizing hold of the poker he, under some trivial pretext, gave the dog a violent blow on the head, upon which one of the men with an oath asked him why he did this. The gentleman with much presence of mind, turned the poker promptly against the man who asked the question, and having overpowered him in a pretended quarrel, discovered in his pocket a bag of gold. The rest I do not know, but the man was hanged for the murder in Oxfordshire or Warwickshire about ten years ago. Is it not a curious story?

Mr Fawkes thinks it would be a fine subject for a picture—the awful gloominess of the wood, the dead body, the dog licking the wounds, the horror of the horse, and the man's countenance as he sat contemplating the scene—he thinks might be wonderfully portrayed on canvas.

His other story is of a different cast. You have doubtless heard of Edwards the great bookseller. He has quitted his shop in Town, and gone to reside at his native place, Halifax. He is a great miser, but being a man of talent, often visits Mr Fawkes. One day he arrived upon such a miserable hired horse that they resolved to play him a trick. Accordingly, after dinner the Steward came in, with a solemn face, stating that instead of killing a horse that was meant for the dogs, they had shot Mr Edwards's; that it was half eat before they found out the mistake. Edwards was in a dreadful pucker; but at last, having condoled with him, they told him that the only difference between his deceased horse & the one of Mr Fawkes's which they had meant to kill, was that Mr Fawkes's horse had not a white spot on its forehead, & his legs were not white, but that by painting them it would look just the same, and that the people at the livery stable would never find out the mistake. Edwards was highly delighted with this plan, and, would you believe it, he was mean enough to hope by this means to cheat the man. You may picture what fun it was to Mr Fawkes and his servants to see him ride home on his own hired horse all bedaubed with paint; after which he wrote word triumphantly, "The man at the Livery Stables has never found out the trick we have put on him!" How they will all quiz him when finally they tell him the truth!!

When shall you come to Yorkshire? You will find Frances grown quite a beauty and Philip an adept at l'art militaire. I am glad you were so pleased with the young Beaumonts. Their sister rode here the other day, she is a very nice girl and nearly pretty.

Mr and the Miss Abbotts left us yesterday, after a week's visit They are very musical, but rather too Irish for our taste. To give you some idea of them, they talk of people being beasts and puking whelps, and brutes. They frequently blest their souls and bodies, and "talked their fill" which was not a "few." Surely this cannot be elegant, even in Ireland. Have you any Hibernian friends who could inform you on this subject? Adieu, breakfast waits. All here send their love.

These Hibernian friends were apparently not the only guests whose peculiarities occasioned the Stanhope family some mild surprise. The handsome Bishop of Carlisle [23] and his wife, Lady Anne Vernon, were at this date frequently at Cannon Hall, and both of them and of their ten sons various anecdotes are related. Mr Stanhope, indeed, as Member for Carlisle, had long been intimate with the popular prelate, and used to tell with what unstinted hospitality Dr Vernon was wont to receive his countless visitors at the Palace on public days, also what a picturesque sight he then invariably presented in his full-bottomed, snow-white wig and bright, purple coat. But the good bishop, though extremely stately and impressive of demeanour, was gifted with a keen sense of humour and could enjoy a spice of frivolity when he could indulge in it without detracting from his dignity. In 1807 he was appointed to the Archbishopric of York, and was fond of retailing how a groom belonging to his old friend, Sir James Graham, [24] got news of the event and rode hard to Netherby to take his master the first tidings. Bursting into the dining-room where a large party of guests were assembled, the man exultingly shouted out the Information which he was desperately afraid someone else might have anticipated—"Sir Jams! Sir Jams! The Bushopp has got his situation!" The sense of humour cherished by Dr Vernon seems to have been inherited by his sons in a different guise. In two undated letters Marianne relates to her brother:—

Here is an anecdote of your friend, the sailor, Mr Vernon, [25] who has got some prize money. He was walking, I believe, a few days since with a gentleman in the streets when they met two men who spoke to him civilly and to whom he returned a very short answer. His companion inquired who they were. He said—"Two men who came over in the ship with me." "Then why were you so cold in your manner to them?" asked his friend. "Why, my dear fellow, because they were convicts returned from transportation!" was Vernon's answer.

Undated.

Your ball appears to have been very gay, but you never named your opinion of Miss Monckton. [26] I assure you her sisters at Harrogate were quite belles, the gentlemen made Charades on them. I must close my letter with a story of Mr Vernon, [27] told me by a gentleman we met at Sir Francis Wood's.

At one of the Lichfield balls, he came in so late that everybody inquired the reason. He said he had been waiting for his tailor while he was sewing the buttons on his etceteras. Each of these buttons contained the picture of a French beauty, and he had the tailor in his room while his hair was being dressed in order to tell him which to place nearest to his heart.