The consequence is, that, like many other venerable family
establishments, his manor is incumbered by old retainers whom he
cannot turn off, and an old style which he cannot lay down. His
mansion is like a great hospital of invalids, and, with all its
magnitude, is not a whit too large for its inhabitants. Not a
nook or corner but is of use in housing some useless personage.
Groups of veteran beef-eaters, gouty pensioners, and retired
heroes of the buttery and the larder are seen lolling about its
ways, crawling over its lawns, dozing under its tree, or sunning
themselves upon the benches at its doors. Every office and
out-house is garrisoned by these supernumeraries and their
families; for they are amazingly prolific, and when they die off
are sure to leave John a legacy of hungry mouths to be provided
for. A mattock cannot be struck against the most mouldering
tumble-down tower but out pops, from some cranny or loophole, the
gray pate of some superannuated hanger-on, who has lived at
John's expense all his life, and makes the most grievous outcry
at their pulling down the roof from over the head of a worn-out
servant of the family. This is an appeal that John's honest heart
never can withstand; so that a man who has faithfully eaten his
beef and pudding all his life is sure to be rewarded with a pipe
and tankard in his old days.
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