The first grant of Connecticut was made to this earl, and by him assigned to Lord Say and Seal, and Lord Brooke.  The patronage which this earl extended to the Puritans is more remarkable because in principle he was favorable to Episcopacy.  It appears to have been prompted by a chivalrous sense of justice; probably the same which influenced old Guy of Warwick in the King Arthur times, of whom the ancient chronicler says, “This worshipful knight, in his acts of warre, ever consydered what parties had wronge, and therto would he drawe.”

The present earl has never taken a share in public or political life, but resided entirely on his estate, devoting himself to the improvement of his ground and tenants.  He received the estate much embarrassed, and the condition of the tenantry was at that time quite depressed.  By the devotion of his life it has been rendered one of the most flourishing and prosperous estates in this part of England.  I have heard him spoken of as a very exemplary, excellent man.  He is now quite advanced, and has been for some time in failing health.  He sent our party a very kind and obliging message, desiring that we would consider ourselves fully at liberty to visit any part of the grounds or castle, there being always some reservation as to what tourists may visit.

We caught glimpses of him once or twice, supported by attendants, as he was taking the air in one of the walks of the grounds, and afterwards wheeled about in a garden chair.

The family has thrice died out in the direct line, and been obliged to resuscitate through collateral branches; but it seems the blood holds good notwithstanding.  As to honors there is scarcely a possible distinction in the state or army that has not at one time or other been the property of this family.

Under the shade of these lofty cedars they have sprung and fallen, an hereditary line of princes.  One cannot but feel, in looking on these majestic trees, with the battlements, turrets, and towers of the old castle every where surrounding him, and the magnificent parks and lawns opening through dreamy vistas of trees into what seems immeasurable distance, the force of the soliloquy which Shakspeare puts into the mouth of the dying old king maker, as he lies breathing out his soul in the dust and blood of the battle field:—­

  “Thus yields the cedar to the axe’s edge,
  Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,
  Under whose shade the rampant lion slept;
  Whose top branch overpeered Jove’s spreading tree,
  And kept low shrubs from, winter’s powerful wind. 
  These eyes, that now are dimmed with death’s black veil,
  Have been as piercing as the midday sun
  To search, the secret treasons of the world: 
  The wrinkles in my brow, now filled with blood,
  Were likened oft to kingly sepulchres;
  For who lived king but I could dig his grave? 
  And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow? 
  Lo, now my glory smeared in dust and blood! 
  My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,
  Even now forsake me; and of all my lands
  Is nothing left me but my body’s length! 
  Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? 
  And live we how we can, yet die we must.”