The Commodore’s voice sunk so low as not to be distinguished, and having lain about an hour without moving he gave up the ghost with a groan.

Peregrine, having performed the will with a most pious punctuality, examined the will, and being sole executor, took an account of the estate to which he had succeeded, which amounted to L30,000.

His domestic affairs being settled, Hatchway remaining in command at the garrison, Peregrine was visited by almost all the gentlemen in the country, who endeavoured to effect a reconciliation betwixt his father and him.  Old Gamaliel, at their entreaties, seemed very well disposed to any accommodation; but his favourable disposition was rendered altogether ineffectual by his implacable wife, and our hero resigned all expectations of being reunited to his father’s house.

Peregrine, then took leave of all his friends, and repaired to London, where he made a remarkable appearance among the people of fashion.  His own follies made Mrs. Gauntlet and Emilia hold aloof from him, and landed him for a time in the Fleet Prison.  From this place the good offices of Emilia’s brother, Godfrey Gauntlet, and Hatchway, released him, and the news of his father’s death, who had died without making a will, hastened his departure.  Peregrine, having thus succeeded to his father’s estate, set off at once for the country, and instead of alighting at the garrison, rode straightway to his father’s house, accompanied by Hatchway and Pipes.

No servants appearing to receive him, Peregrine advanced into the hall and made immediate application to a bell-rope.  This brought two footmen into his presence, and one of them, in reply to a stern reprimand, said sullenly that they had been in the service of old Mr. Pickle, and now that he was dead, thought themselves bound to obey nobody but their lady, and her son Mr. Gamaliel.  Our hero ordered them to decamp without further preparation, and as they continued restive, they were kicked out of doors by Hatchway.  Young Gamaliel flew to the assistance of his adherents, and discharged a pistol at his brother, who luckily escaped the shot and turned him out into the court-yard, to the consolation of his two dependents.

The noise of the pistol alarmed Mrs. Pickle, who, running down stairs, would have assaulted our hero, had she not been restrained.  The exercise of her tongue not being hindered, she wagged against him with all the virulence of malice.  She asked if he was come to butcher his brother, to insult his father’s corpse, and triumph in her affliction?  And bestowed upon him the epithets of spendthrift, jail-bird, and unnatural ruffian.

Peregrine calmly replied, that if she did not quietly retire to her chamber, he should insist upon her removing to another lodging; for he was determined to be master in his own house.

Next morning the house was supplied with some servants from the garrison, and preparations were made for the funeral of the deceased.