In church, Old Madam and the clerk were the only members of the congregation who could read. So, when a psalm was given out, the clerk said: "Let Madam and I sing to the praise and glory of God."
In church she would stand up, look round and see who were there, and take account of those who were absent. The absentees were sure to hear of it in the week from her.
When Old Madam retired for the night, the footman stood at the bottom of the staircase with an apple and a glass of water on a salver.
She died in her high-backed chair, refusing to be put to bed, like Queen Elizabeth, on the 10th April, 1795. A groom was at once sent to Courtlands for her daughter, Margaret Baring, and she returned with him to Lew, sitting on a pillion behind him. The strap that a groom wears to this day about his waist is a relic of the pillion-days and was provided so that the lady behind him should hold on to him by it. Charles Baring did not attend the funeral.
We had, when I was a youth, a servant in the house, Maria Hierne, who had heard many tales of Old Madam from her grandfather. As a boy I had talks with an old Betsy Baker who remembered her.
When Madam died, the shutters of the house flew open, and the hind who was in the kitchen, thinking there must be burglars breaking in, ran forth, when he saw Madam Gould standing by the walnut tree at the back of the house.
One cold day Madam was out and nearly frozen. She saw workmen engaged on the farm and pitied them. She went in and told the cook to heat them a jorum of cider. Then she sat in her winter fur coat by the fire, gradually became warm, then very hot. "God bless me!" she said. "The weather has changed. Tell the cook not to heat the cider. Let the men have it cold."
In those days, according to Maria Hierne, whose married name later was Beere, the women came to church with folded bright-coloured aprons in their hands, as then peasant women did not wear bonnets or hats. These aprons they put over their heads in the porch, and tied them under their chins.
I have not given, as yet, stories of Edward Gould, but I subjoin a few.
