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drink； and tobacco。 As he grew older this passion increased upon
him； and it became his delight to chalk against the name of each of
his cronies a sum of enormous magnitude； and impossible to be paid：
and such was his secret joy in these entries； that he would be
perpetually seen going behind the door to look at them； and coming
forth again； suffused with the liveliest satisfaction。
He never recovered the surprise the Rioters had given him； and
remained in the same mental condition down to the last moment of
his life。 It was like to have been brought to a speedy
termination by the first sight of his first grandchild； which
appeared to fill him with the belief that some alarming miracle had
happened to Joe。 Being promptly blooded； however； by a skilful
surgeon； he rallied； and although the doctors all agreed； on his
being attacked with symptoms of apoplexy six months afterwards；
that he ought to die； and took it very ill that he did not； he
remained alivepossibly on account of his constitutional slowness
for nearly seven years more； when he was one morning found
speechless in his bed。 He lay in this state； free from all tokens
of uneasiness； for a whole week； when he was suddenly restored to
consciousness by hearing the nurse whisper in his son's ear that he
was going。 'I'm a…going； Joseph；' said Mr Willet； turning round
upon the instant； 'to the Salwanners'and immediately gave up
the ghost。
He left a large sum of money behind him； even more than he was
supposed to have been worth； although the neighbours； according to
the custom of mankind in calculating the wealth that other people
ought to have saved； had estimated his property in good round
numbers。 Joe inherited the whole； so that he became a man of great
consequence in those parts； and was perfectly independent。
Some time elapsed before Barnaby got the better of the shock he had
sustained； or regained his old health and gaiety。 But he recovered
by degrees： and although he could never separate his condemnation
and escape from the idea of a terrific dream； he became； in other
respects； more rational。 Dating from the time of his recovery； he
had a better memory and greater steadiness of purpose； but a dark
cloud overhung his whole previous existence； and never cleared
away。
He was not the less happy for this； for his love of freedom and
interest in all that moved or grew； or had its being in the
elements； remained to him unimpaired。 He lived with his mother on
the Maypole farm； tending the poultry and the cattle； working in a
garden of his own； and helping everywhere。 He was known to every
bird and beast about the place； and had a name for every one。
Never was there a lighter…hearted husbandman； a creature more
popular with young and old； a blither or more happy soul than
Barnaby； and though he was free to ramble where he would； he never
quitted Her； but was for evermore her stay and comfort。
It was remarkable that although he had that dim sense of the past；
he sought out Hugh's dog； and took him under his care； and that he
never could be tempted into London。 When the Riots were many years
old； and Edward and his wife came back to England with a family
almost as numerous as Dolly's； and one day appeared at the Maypole
porch； he knew them instantly； and wept and leaped for joy。 But
neither to visit them； nor on any other pretence； no matter how
full of promise and enjoyment； could he be persuaded to set foot in
the streets： nor did he ever conquer this repugnance or look upon
the town again。
Grip soon recovered his looks； and became as glossy and sleek as
ever。 But he was profoundly silent。 Whether he had forgotten the
art of Polite Conversation in Newgate； or had made a vow in those
troubled times to forego； for a period； the display of his
accomplishments； is matter of uncertainty； but certain it is that
for a whole year he never indulged in any other sound than a grave；
decorous croak。 At the expiration of that term； the morning being
very bright and sunny； he was heard to address himself to the
horses in the stable； upon the subject of the Kettle； so often
mentioned in these pages； and before the witness who overheard him
could run into the house with the intelligence； and add to it upon
his solemn affirmation the statement that he had heard him laugh；
the bird himself advanced with fantastic steps to the very door of
the bar； and there cried； 'I'm a devil； I'm a devil； I'm a devil！'
with extraordinary rapture。
From that period （although he was supposed to be much affected by
the death of Mr Willet senior）； he constantly practised and
improved himself in the vulgar tongue； and； as he was a mere infant
for a raven when Barnaby was grey； he has very probably gone on
talking to the present time。
End