Read it through once

The funeral was an imposing affair; “the chief gentry of the country sent to request to follow his remains to the grave; the six principal farmers of the parish begged to officiate as his bearers; they came in new suits of mourning, and were so deeply affected that they could hardly lift the coffin. Every house in our village street was shut up; the highway was lined with farmers and tradesmen, in deep mourning, on horseback and in phaetons, who followed the procession; they again were followed by poor people on foot. The church and churchyard were crowded, and the building resounded with tears and sobs when the coffin was lowered into the vault. The same scene recurred on the ensuing Sunday, when every creature in the crowded congregation appeared in black to hear the sermon—even the very poorest wearing some sign of the mourning that was so truly felt.” This was, as may be easily inferred, Miss Mitford’s own account of the proceedings, but, as Mr. H. F. Chorley pointed out in his published volume of her letters, although one cannot doubt the sincerity of the report, it was one “utterly baseless on anything like fact, or the feelings of those who knew the whole story. Dr. Mitford was tolerated because she was beloved. The respect paid to his remains was not so much to them as to her.”