Moreover, Sir Watts was a country “justice” who bore not the sword in vain. Surely, there is a spice of romance even among these prosy details. Think of a journey to London in those days, with “a large retinue”. Think of the family rumble and its appointments. Think of the perils of the journey, highwaymen, and footpads. Think of young Miss Horton, a lady of but two years old, making such a journey, and such a precious baby, too. Would not Sir Watts need his honest yeoman about him? His Will Wimble and Mr. Honeycombs. And who was Will Wimble, somebody will ask? Will Wimble was no figurative personage; he was the sworn henchman of Sir. Watts. His real name was Mr. Dechet. He was always equal to the task of shooting a rat, a rabbit, or a highwayman. On great occasion Will was Sir Watts’s faithful attendant, over whose body Will kept dragon watch. When Sir Watts travelled in State to London, Will Wimble would ride in the cavalcade near to Sir Watts’s chariot, and at the various stages on the road he would attend to Sir Watts’s comforts, chasing dull care away during the livelong night at the wayside inn with many a cheery song. Will Wimble was the wonder and sometimes the envy of his neighbours. He led an easy, comfortable like, and never seemed to earn anything. His table was often replenished by a haunch from Sir Watts’s larder, a hare or rabbit from his park, fish (caught with Will’s own hand) from his ponds, or fruit from his garden. Will Wimble was a man of ancient family, bred to no business, and born to no estate. He hunted a pack better than any man in the country, and was famous at finding a hare. He was well versed in all the small handicrafts of an idle man. Could make a mayfly to a miracle. He was a favourite with all the young heirs in the country, whom he would occasionally supply with a fishing net he had woven, or a setting dog he had reared. Now and then he would make a present of a pair of garters of his own knitting to their mothers or sisters and would raise a deal of mirth when he would meet them by inquiring how they wore?

Will Wimble was a south countryman, and had some French blood in him. He lived on Sir. Watts’s estate, near Middleton. If Sir Watts wanted a new wig or new silk stockings, it was for Will Wimble in the person of Mr. Dechet, to execute the commission. Another of Sir Watts’s friends was Mr. “Honeycomb” familiarly known at Chadderton Hall as “Pud”. His real name I never knew. He was a fat, sleek man, who “slept o’ nights”, such a man as Caesar loved to have about him. Among Sir Watts’s other attendants would no doubt be old Scholes, with a spaniel by his side. He is a yeoman of about a hundred pounds a year. An honest man. He is just within the Game Act, and qualified to kill a hare or pheasant. He knocks down a dinner with his gun twice or thrice a week, and by that means lives much cheaper than those who have not so good an estate as himself. He is a very sensible man, shoots flying and has been several time foreman of the petty jury Old Christy, with his “frosty paw”, who had charge of the dogs and horses, and had spent a lifetime among them is another typical personage who would join the retinue. “Verily, old servants are the vouchers of worthy housekeeping. They are like rats in a mansion or mites in a cheese, bespeaking the antiquity and fatness of their abode”. Nor must we forget the jorum of female domestics required to care the baby. Lady helps, who had caught their stately airs from living so much among the family pictures. As to the “doings” in London, Sir Watts would, no doubt, keep high society, from his connection with the noble family of Strange. His quarters were at No. 12, in Upper Brook-street, Grosvenor-square, but of those doings I must leave my readers to judge from the literature of that period, which describes London life in language which I have not at command. Lest I might be accused of gross plagiarism or other heinous offence, I must refer my readers as to the truth of my statements to the letters of Sir Watts Horton (still extant), to the history of Sir Roger de Coverley, and to the annals of Bracebridge Hall, from all of which I have copied such parts as would suit the story, without scruple and even without consent.