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drawn off, and his health rescued by a fresh train of disquietudes left him, with a legacy of a thousand pounds by my aunt Dinah—
My father had scarce read the letter, when taking the thing by the right end, he instantly begun to plague and puzzle his head how to lay it out mostly to the honour of his family—A hundred and fifty odd projects took possession of his brains by turns—he would do this, and that, and to'ther—He would go to Rome—he would go to law—he would buy stock—he would buy John Hobson's farm—he would new fore-front his house, and add a new wing to make it even—There was a fine water-mill on this side, and he would build a windmill on the other side of the river in full view to answer it—But above allthings
