In the month of April, 1761, the Doctor brought home
his bride to Doncaster. Many eyes were turned upon her
when she made her appearance at St. George's Church.
The novelty of the place made her less regardful of this
than she might otherwise have been. Hollis Pigot, who
held the vicarage of Doncaster thirty years, and was then
in the last year of his incumbency and his life, performed
the service that day. I know not among what description
of preachers he was to be classed; whether with those who
obtain attention, and command respect, and win confidence,
and strengthen belief, and inspire hope, or with the far more
numerous race of Spintexts and of Martexts. But if he

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had preached that morning with the tongue of an angel,
the bride would have had no ears for him. Her thoughts
were neither upon those who on their way from church
would talk over her instead of the sermon, nor of the service,
nor of her husband, nor of herself in her new character,
but of her father, — and with a feeling which might
almost be called funereal, that she had passed from under
his pastoral as well as his paternal care.