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Mr Crawley was in those days the perpetual curate of Hogglestock, a parish in the northern extremity of East Barsetshire; a man known by all who knew anything of him to be very poor, an unhappy, moody, disappointed man, upon whom the troubles of the world always seemed to come with a double weight.

"Well; if that ain't the darn'dest thing that ever was," said Flurry; "but I'll tell the squire about Thorne's man, darned if I don't." now, "the squire" was young Squire Gresham, the master of the East Barsetshire hounds. But the archdeacon went on thinking, thinking, thinking.

They did, in truth, go by slow stages to Italy, to Venice, Florence, and on to Rome; but such had not been their intention when they first started on their journey. At that time Mr Grey believed that he would be wanted again in England, down at Silverbridge in Barsetshire, very shortly. But before he had married a week he learned that all that was to be postponed.

When I wrote on Tuesday I told you about poor Mr Crawley, that he was the clergyman in Barsetshire of whose misfortune you read an account in Galignani's Messenger, and I think Susan must have written about it also, because everybody here is talking of nothing else, and because, of course, we know how strong a regard the dean has for Mr Crawley.

But when the great ruin came; when the noble master of the Barsetshire hounds supported the recreant minister in the House of Lords and basely surrendered his truth, his manhood, his friends, and his honour for the hope of a garter, then Mr. Thorne gave up the hunt. He did not cut his covers, for that would not have been the act of a gentleman.

You have explained to me that it is your duty to have the Barsetshire coverts properly shot, and I have acceded to your views. Surely it must be equally your duty to see your Barsetshire neighbours. And you are a young man every feature of whose character would be improved by matrimony.

I can only say that it was not because your daughter might probably have money that I first sought her love." "It shall be so received. And now But perhaps it will be best that you should arrange all this with my man of business. Mr. Moreton shall be instructed. Mr. Moreton lives near my place in Barsetshire, but is now in London. If you will call on him he shall tell you what I would suggest.

Now he was known as an excellent horseman, as a thorough sportsman, as one knowing in dogs, and tender-hearted as a sucking mother to a litter of young foxes; he had ridden in the county since he was fifteen, had a fine voice for a view-hallo, knew every hound by name, and could wind a horn with sufficient music for all hunting purposes; moreover, he had come to his property, as was well known through all Barsetshire, with a clear income of fourteen thousand a year.

"The Black Forest in its old days was nothing to Gatherum woods, according to Fothergill. And then, again, nothing in East Barsetshire could be equal to anything in West Barsetshire. Isn't that it; eh, Fothergill?" Mr. Fothergill professed that he had been brought up in that faith and intended to die in it. "Your exotics at Boxall Hill are very fine, magnificent!" said Mr. Sowerby.

It has been said that Major Grantly had thrown a favourable eye on Grace Crawley, by which report occasion was given to all men and women in those parts to hint that the Crawleys, with all their piety and humility, were very cunning, and that one of the Grantlys was, to say the least of it, very soft, admitted as it was throughout the county of Barsetshire, that there was no family therein more widely awake to the affairs generally of this world and the next combined, than the family of which Archdeacon Grantly was the respected head and patriarch.