About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. He waved a hand toward the sea. This is no place for me. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. ” “Lady Ferringhall—alone?” Ennison exclaimed. “I believe that you would find her in some respects curiously altered. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. He had quite enough to see to and worry about in the City without their doing things. The young man entered into a lively little war of words with a yellow-haired young person near the door.
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