ABSTRACT
We hastened to the paternal residence of Thornton in the hundred of Tendring, remote from any public road, but lying in a bird’s flight nearly in the middle, a little however to the south, between Harwich and Colchester. It was a low and ancient building, embosomed in trees, so as to be nearly invisible, till you came somewhat abruptly upon an obscure avenue leading immediately to the door of the house. It had battlements, and a dry ditch, which had formerly been a moat. Scarcely any one ever approached this residence, unless persons who had express business with its inhabitants, either tenants to the lord of the / manor, or persons from the nearest town who supplied them with such provisions as were not the growth of the soil. Visitors there were few; for the young man had but lately come to the estate; and, almost ever since he succeeded to the property, he had been absent on the continent, in Holland, and elsewhere. The extreme obscurity and solitude of the mansion were inexpressibly soothing to me; and the kindness of the owner was balm to my hurt mind, and a draught of the most salutary nature, bringing at least a temporary oblivion to my woes.
