“My last letter was not finished when the company began to assemble for the funeral. This was a very long scene, filling many hours. Our procession was certainly near three miles, from Dalling to the burying-ground. Mr Sykes, the dissenting minister, rode foremost; next followed six bearers on foot, then the hearse, and next after that myself as chief mourner on horseback, and the line was closed with four or five open chaises, containing my brothers and other relations and friends, chiefly of Hull’s wife’s family. Mourning coaches had first been thought of, but this scheme I think was better. Certainly, if procession is to be thought of, that is the most impressive when the persons of those who form it are completely exposed to view. We set out from the house at one o’clock, and did not get back to the house till five. My brothers went and dined at Mrs Raven’s (Hull’s mother-in-law), but I preferred returning home, and being alone. That night I slept in the chamber you used, and where my mother’s corpse had reposed the night before. . . . I have had strange feelings, arising from the present occasion. I was brought up in great tenderness, and though my mind was proud to independence, I was never led to much independence of feeling. While my mother lived, I always felt to a certain degree as if I had somebody who was my superior, and who exercised a mysterious protection over me. I belonged to something—I hung to something—there is nothing that has so much reverence and religion in it as affection to parents. The knot is now severed, and I am, for the first time, at more than fifty years of age, alone. You shall now be my mother; you have in many instances been my protector and my guide, and I fondly trust will be more so, as I shall come to stand more in need of assistance.”
