Chapter 6

John Jones, alderman, thrice mayor of the city, burgess of the Parliament at the time of the gunpowder treason; registrar to eight several Bishops of this diocese.

He died in the sixth year of the reign of King Charles I., on the first of June, 1630. He gave orders for his monument to be raised in his lifetime.When the workmen had fixed it up, he found fault with it, remarking that thenose was too red. While they were altering it, he walked up and down the body of the church. He then said that he had himself almost finished, so he paid off the men, and died the next morning.

The next epitaph from Newark, Nottinghamshire, furnishes a chapter of local history:—

Sacred to the memoryOfHercules Clay, Alderman of Newark,Who died in the year of his Mayoralty,Jan. 1, 1644.On the 5th of March, 1643,He and his family were preservedBy the Divine ProvidenceFrom the thunderbolt of a terrible cannonWhich had been levelled against his houseBy the Besiegers,And entirely destroyed the same.Out of gratitude for this deliverance,He has taken careTo perpetuate the remembrance thereofBy an alms to the poor and a sermon;By this meansRaising to himself a MonumentMore durable than Brass.

Also of his beloved wifeMary(by the gift of God)Partaker of the same felicity.

It is stated that Charles II., in a gay moment, asked Rochester to write his epitaph. Rochester immediately wrote:—

On which the King wrote the following comment:—

Mr. Thomas Broadbent Trowsdale tells us: “In the fine old church of Chepstow, Monmouthshire, nearly opposite the reading-desk, is a memorial stone with the following curious acrostic inscription, in capital letters:—

“This singular epitaph points out the last resting-place of Henry Marten, one of the judges who condemned King Charles I. to the scaffold. On the Restoration, Marten was sentenced to perpetual imprisonment, Chepstow Castle being selected as the place of his incarceration. There he died in 1680, in the twenty-eighth year of his captivity, and seventy-eighth of his age. He was originally interred in the chancel of the church; but a subsequent vicar of Chepstow, Chest by name, who carried his petty party animosities even beyond the grave, had the dead man’s dust removed, averring that he would not allow the body of a regicide to lie so near the altar. And so it was that Marten’s memorial came to occupy its present position in the passage leading from the nave to the north aisle. We are told that one Mr. Downton, a son-in-law of this pusillanimous parson, touched to the quick by his relative’s harsh treatment of poor Marten’s inanimate remains, retorted by writing this satirical epitaph for the Rev. Mr. Chest’s tombstone:—

“Some doubt has been thrown on the probability of a man of Marten’s culture having written, as is implied in the inscription, the epitaph which has a place on his memorial.

“The regicide was a son of Sir Henry Marten, a favourite of the first James, and by him appointed Principal Judge of the Admiralty and Dean of Arches. Young Henry was himself a prominent person during the period of the disastrous Civil War, and was elected Member of Parliament for Berkshire in 1640. He was, in politics, a decided Republican, and threw in his lot with the Roundhead followers of sturdy Oliver. When the tide of popular favour turned in Charles II.’s direction, and Royalty was reinstated, Marten and the rest of the regicides were brought to judgment for signing the death warrant of their monarch. The consequence, in Marten’s case, was life-long imprisonment, as we have seen, in Chepstow Castle.”

Next is a copy of an acrostic epitaph from Tewkesbury Abbey.

Here lyeth the body ofThomas Merrett, of Tewkesbury, Barber-chirurgeon, who departed this life the 22nd day of October, 1699.T hough only Stone Salutes the reader’s eye,H ere (in deep silence) precious dust doth lye,O bscurely Sleeping in Death’s mighty store,M ingled with common earth till time’s no more,A gainst Death’s Stubborne laws, who dares repine,S ince So much Merrett did his life resigne.M urmurs and Teares are useless in the grave,E lse hee whole Vollies at his Tomb might have.R est in Peace; who like a faithful steward,R epair’d the Church, the Poore and needy cur’d;E ternall mansions do attend the Just,T o clothe with Immortality their dust,T ainted (whilst under ground) with wormes and rust.

Here lyeth the body ofThomas Merrett, of Tewkesbury, Barber-chirurgeon, who departed this life the 22nd day of October, 1699.

In the churchyard of Irongray a table stone, reared by Sir Walter Scott, commemorates Helen Walker, the prototype of Jeanie Deans, whose integrity and tenderness are, in his “Heart of Midlothian,” so admirably portrayed by that great novelist. The following is the inscription:—

This stone was erectedby the author of Waverleyto the memory ofHelen Walker,who died in the year of God 1791.This humble individual practised in reallife the virtueswith which fiction has investedthe imaginary character ofJeanie Deans;refusing the slightest departurefrom veracity,even to save the life of a sister,she nevertheless showed herkindness and fortitude,in rescuing her from the severity of thelaw at the expense of personalexertions which the timerendered as difficult as the motive waslaudable.Respect the grave of povertywhen combined with love of truthand dear affection.Erected October 1831.

Robert Paterson, better known as “Old Mortality,” rests in the churchyard of Caerlaverock, Dumfriesshire. We learn from Dr. Charles Rogers’s “Monuments and Monumental Inscriptions in Scotland” (1871) that Paterson was born in 1715, and was the youngest son of Walter Paterson and Margaret Scott, who rented the farm of Haggista, parish of Hawick. He some time served an elder brother who had a farm in Comcockle-muir, near Lochmaben. He married Elizabeth Gray, who, having been cook in the family of Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick, of Closeburn, procured for him an advantageous lease of a freestone quarry at Morton. Here he resided many years, labouring with exemplary diligence. From his youth attached to the sect of theCameronians, he evinced a deep interest in the memory of those who had suffered in the cause of Presbytery. Occasionally he restored their tombstones. At length his zeal in the restoration of these stony memorials acquired the force of a passion. In 1758 he began to travel from parish to parish, ever working with hammer and chisel in renewing the epitaphs of the martyrs. His self-imposed task no entreaties of wife or children could induce him to abandon. Though reduced to the verge of poverty, he persisted in his labours till the last day of his existence. He died at Banpend village, near Lockerbie, on the 29th January, 1801, aged eighty-six. At his death he was found possessed of twenty-seven shillings and sixpence, which were applied to the expenses of his funeral. Sir Walter Scott, who has made “Old Mortality” the subject of a novel, intended to rear a tombstone to his memory, but was unable to discover his place of sepulture. Since the discovery has been made, Messrs. Black, of Edinburgh, who possess the copyright of the Waverley novels, have reared at the grave of the old enthusiast a suitable memorial stone. It is thus inscribed:—

Here is a picture of the stone placed over the grave of William Shakespeare, at Stratford-on-Avon, with its well-known and frequently quoted inscription:—

Good frend for Iesvs sake forbeare, to dicc the dvst encloased heare, Bleste be ye man yt spares thes stones, and cvrst be he yt moves my bones.

At Loddon, in Norfolk, is buried one who, like the bard of Avon, had a great horror of his bones being removed. The epitaph is as follows:—

In Tideswell churchyard, among several other singular gravestone inscriptions, the following occurs, and is worth reprinting:—

Under the shadow of the ancient church of Bakewell, Derbyshire, is a stone containing a long inscription to the memory of John Dale, barber-surgeon, and his two wives, Elizabeth Foljambe and Sarah Bloodworth. It ends thus:—

Know posterity, that on the 8th of April, in the year of grace 1757, the rambling remains of the aboveJohn Dalewere, in the 86th yeare of his pilgrimage, laid upon his two wives.This thing in life might raise some jealousy,Here all three lie together lovingly,But from embraces here no pleasure flows,Alike are here all human-joys and woes;Here Sarah’s chiding John no longer hears,And old John’s rambling Sarah no more fears;A period’s come to all their toylsome lives,The good man’s quiet; still are both his wives.

Know posterity, that on the 8th of April, in the year of grace 1757, the rambling remains of the aboveJohn Dalewere, in the 86th yeare of his pilgrimage, laid upon his two wives.

On a slab affixed to the east wall of St. Mary’s Church, Whitby, is an inscription containing some remarkable coincidences:—

Here lie the bodies ofFrancis HuntroddsandMaryhis wife, who were both born on the same day of the week month and year (viz.) Sepr ye 19th 1600 marry’d on the day of their birth and after having had 12 children born to them died aged 80 years on the same day of the year they were born September ye 19th 1680, the one not one above five hours before ye other.Husband and wife that did twelve children bear,Dy’d the same day; alike both aged were’Bout eighty years they liv’d, five hours did part(Ev’n on the marriage day) each tender heartSo fit a match, surely could never be,Both in their lives, and in their deaths agree.

The following is from St. Julian’s Church, Shrewsbury:—

The remains ofHenry Corserof this parish, Chirurgeon, who Deceased April 11, 1691, andAnniehis wife, who followed him the next day after:—We man and wife,Conjoined for Life,Fetched our last breathSo near that Death,Who part us would,Yet hardly could.Wedded againe,In bed of dust,Here we remaine,Till rise we must.A double prize this grave doth finde,If you are wise keep it in minde.

The remains ofHenry Corserof this parish, Chirurgeon, who Deceased April 11, 1691, andAnniehis wife, who followed him the next day after:—

In the church of Little Driffield, East Yorkshire, were placed in modern times two inscriptions to the memory of Alfred, King of Northumbria. The first states:—

In the chancel of this church lie the remains ofAlfred, King of Northumbria, who departed this life in the year 705.

The present one reads as follows:—

WITHIN THIS CHANCELLIES INTERRED THE BODY OFALFREDKING OF NORTHUMBRIADEPARTED THIS LIFEJANUARY 19TH A.D. 705IN THE 20TH YEAR OF HIS REIGNSTATUTUM EST OMNIBUS SEMIL MORI.

In St. Anne’s churchyard, Soho, erected bythe Earl of Orford (Walpole), in 1758, these lines were (or are) to be read:—

In the burial-ground of the Island of Juan Fernandez, a monument states:—

In Memory ofAlexander Selkirk,Mariner,A native of Largo, in the county of Fife, Scotland,Who lived on this island, in completesolitude, for four years and four months.He was landed from the Cinque Ports galley, 96 tons,18 guns,A.D.1704, and was taken off in theDuke, privateer, 12th February, 1709.He died Lieutenant of H.M.S. Weymouth,A.D.1723, aged 47 years.This Tablet is erected near Selkirk’s look out,By Commodore Powell and the Officersof H.M.S. Topaze,A.D.1868.

It is generally believed that the adventures of Selkirk suggested to Daniel Defoe the attractive story of “Robinson Crusoe.” In the “Dictionary of English Literature,” by William Davenport Adams, will be found important information bearing on this subject.

InGloucester Notes and Querieswe read as follows: “Stout’s Hill is the name of a house situated on high ground to the south of the village of Uley, built in the style which, in the last century, was intended for Gothic, but which may be more exactly defined as the ‘Strawberry Hill’ style. In a house of earlier date lived the father of Samuel Rudder, the laborious compiler of the ‘History of Gloucestershire’ (1779). He lies in the churchyard of Uley, on the south side of the chancel, and his gravestone has a brass-plate inserted, which records a remarkable fact:—

Underneath lies the remains ofRoger Rutter,aliasRudder, eldest son of John Rutter, of Uley, who was buried August 30, 1771, aged 84 years, having never eaten flesh, fish, or fowl, during the course of his long life.

Tradition tells us that this vegetarian lived mainly on ‘dump,’ in various forms. Usually he ate‘plain dump;’ when tired of plain dump, he changed his diet to ‘hard dump;’ and when he was in a special state of exhilaration, he added the variety ‘apple dump’ to his very moderate fare.”

On Saturday, the 2nd May, 1800, the remains of William Cowper were interred in that part of Dereham Church known as St. Edmund’s Chapel. He died without a will, but Lady Hesketh consented to administer his estate, and eventually placed a tablet to his memory on the wall of the chancel, near his grave. It is constructed of white marble, and over the top are represented two volumes, labelled respectively “Holy Bible” and “The Task.” The inscription as follows was written by Cowper’s friend, Hayley:—

Charles and Mary Lamb are buried in the churchyard of Edmonton, and a white headstone, marks the spot, on which is recorded, in bold black letters, the following inscription written by Lamb’s friend, the Rev. Henry Francis Cary, the translator of Dante:—

In the church is a memorial to Lamb and Cowper. It occupies a good position at the west end of the north wall, and consists of two inscribed white marble panels, enshrined in a graceful freestone design, the arches of which are supported by veined marble pilasters. In the upper portion of each panel is carved a portrait in relief, the one on the right showing the head of Cowper, while on the left the features of Lamb are characteristically depicted.

The following are the inscriptions contained on the memorial:—

(Left panel.)In memory ofCharles Lamb“The Gentle Elia” and author ofTales from Shakespeare, etc.Born in the Inner Temple 1775educated at Christ’s Hospitaldied at Bay Cottage Edmonton 1834and buried beside his sister Maryin the adjoining churchyard.At the centre of his being lodgedA soul by resignation sanctifiedO, he was good if e’er a good man lived!Wordsworth.(Right panel.)In memory ofWilliam Cowper, the PoetBorn in Berkhampstead 1731Died and buried at East Dereham 1800.He was the author ofThe Diverting History of “John Gilpin.”John Gilpin was a citizenOf credit and renown,A trainband captain eke was heOf famous London town.John Gilpin’s spouse said to her dear,Though wedded we have beenThese twice ten tedious years, yet weNo holiday have seen.To-morrow is our wedding day,And we will then repairUnto “the Bell” at Edmonton,All in a chaise and pair, etc.(Along base of design.)This monument to commemorate the visit of the London and Middlesex Archæological Association/ to Edmonton church and parish on the 26th July 1888/ was erected by the President of the Meeting Joshua W. Butterworth,F.S.A.

(Right panel.)In memory ofWilliam Cowper, the PoetBorn in Berkhampstead 1731Died and buried at East Dereham 1800.He was the author ofThe Diverting History of “John Gilpin.”

(Along base of design.)

This monument to commemorate the visit of the London and Middlesex Archæological Association/ to Edmonton church and parish on the 26th July 1888/ was erected by the President of the Meeting Joshua W. Butterworth,F.S.A.

For some years we have been interested in the life and poetry of Mary Pyper, “A Poet of the Poor,” and in our “Literary Byways” have told at length the story of her career. We there state, through the exertions of Dr. Rogers in May, 1885, a handsome cross was erected over her remains inGreyfriars’ churchyard, Edinburgh, simply bearing her name, “Mary Pyper.” Such was the information we received from a friend whom we induced to see the memorial and give us particulars of it, and to our surprise when we visited her grave in April, 1899, we found on the cross the following inscription, which we presume has been added since its erection:—

By admiringFriendsErectedin memory ofMary Pyper,who amidstuntowardsurroundingscherishedher gift as a writer ofsacred verse.Born 25th May,1795.She died atEdinburgh,25th May, 1870.Let me go! The day is breaking;Morning bursts upon the eye;Death this mortal frame is shaking,But the soul can never die!

The lines are from her poem entitled “The Christian’s View of Death,” which finds a placein several standard works of poetry. Her best known production is an “Epitaph: A Life,” and often attributed incorrectly to German sources. It is as follows:—

Among self-taught poets Mary Pyper is entitled to an honourable place.

Mr. John T. Page furnishes us with the following inscriptions copied from Hogarth’s monument in Chiswick churchyard. It was erected, says Mr. Page, in 1771, seven years after his death, and is a tall piece of masonry crowned with a funeral urn. Beneath this, on the side facing the church, are carved in low relief a mask, maul-stick, palette and brushes, a laurel wreath and an open book bearing the title of his famous “Analysis of Beauty.” On the same side, on a small block of Aberdeen granite at the foot of the memorial, is recorded the fact that it was

Restored byWilliam Hogarth,of Aberdeen,in 1856.

It has well stood the “storm and stress” since then, but is now beginning to show signs of the need of another restoration, for, on the east side, over the inscription, the combined armorial bearings of Hogarth and his wife are as nearly as possible obliterated.

The inscriptions are as follows:—

(N. Side.)

(E. Side.)Here lieth the bodyofWilliam Hogarth, Esqr.,who died October the 26th 1764aged 67 yearsMrs. Jane Hogarthwife of William Hogarth Esqr.Obit. the 13th of November 1789Ætat 80 years.

(W. Side.)Here lieth the BodyofMrs. Anne HogarthSistertoWilliam Hogarth Esqr.She died August the 13th 1771aged 70 yearsAlso the Body ofMary LewisSpinsterdied 25th March 1808Aged 88 years.

(S. Side.)Here lieth the BodyofDame Judith ThornhillRelict ofSr James Thornhill Knightof Thornhill in the County of DorsetShe died November the 12th 1757aged 84 years.

The lapse of one hundred and thirty years, says Mr. Page, has not served to dim the ardour with which the works of William Hogarth are cherished by the English nation. His “Harlot’s Progress” not only served to reconcile his father-in-law, Sir James Thornhill, to the runaway match the plebeian Hogarth had contracted three years before with his daughter, but it is still looked upon as hischef d’œuvreby many eminent critics; and there is nearly always to be seen a crowd round his “Marriage a la Mode” in theNational Gallery. The virulent contest with Wilkes and Churchill, with which his last days were embittered, has long ago been forgotten, and the name of William Hogarth still lives, and will be popular for all time through his admired series of paintings and engravings, which are prized and hoarded with an ever-increasing love by their happy possessors.

ETTY’S GRAVE.

Fairholt, in his “Homes, Works, and Shrinesof English Artists”[3]gives an interesting sketch of the career of William Etty, the son of a miller, who for seven years was an apprentice to a printer in Hull, but devoted all his spare time to art, and eventually after many struggles won a high place amongst the painters of the period. He was buried in the churchyard of St. Olave, York, where from the beautiful grounds of the Yorkshire Philosophical Society, and through one of the arches of the ruined Abbey of St. Mary, his tomb may be seen. The arch near his grave was closed, but was opened to bring in sight his tomb. Mr. Fairholt is in error in saying it bears the simple inscription:—

William Etty, Royal Academician.

Some years ago from the other side of the tomb we copied the following inscription from a crumbling stone:—

William Etty, Royal Academician,Who in his brilliant works has leftan enduring monument of his exalted genius.Earnestly aiming to attain that lofty position on whichhis highly gifted talents have placed him, he throughout lifeexhibited an undeviating perseverance in his profession.To promote its advancement in his beloved country he watched the progressof those engaged in its study with the most disinterested kindness.To a cultivated and highly poetical mindWere united a cheerfulness and sweetness of dispositionWith great simplicity and urbanity of manners.He was richly endeared to all who knew him.His piety was unaffected, his faith in Christ sincere,and his devotion to God exemplary.He was born at York, March 10th, 1787, and diedin his native city, November 13th, 1849.“Why seek ye the living among the dead?”—Luke xxii., 5.

Etty, says Fairholt, had that wisdom which few men possess, the wisdom of a contented mind. He loved his quiet home, in his provincial birthplace, better than the bustle of London, or the notoriety he might obtain by a residence there. His character and his talent would ensure him attention and deference anywhere, but he preferred his own nook by the old church at York. He probably felt with the poet, that

The remains of Cruikshank rest in the crypt in St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, and over his grave the following inscription appears:—

A sketch of his life has been written by Walter Hamilton, under the title of “George Cruikshank, Artist and Humourist.” (London: Elliot Stock, 1878.) William Bates,B.A.,M.R.C.S., wrote “George Cruikshank, the Artist, the Humourist, and the Man, with Some Account of his Brother Robert.” (Birmingham: Houghton & Hammond, 1878.) Blanchard Jerrold wrote “The Life of George Cruikshank.” (London: Chatto & Windus, a new edition with eighty-four illustrations, 1883.) An able article contributed to theWestminster Review, by William Makepeace Thackeray, has been reproduced in book form by George Redway, London (1884). Some time ago the following appeared in a newspaper:—One day while Dr. B. W. Richardson was engaged at his house with an old patient who had been away many years in India, George Cruikshank’s cardwas handed to the doctor. “It must be the grandson, or the son, at any rate, of the great artist I remember as a boy,” said the patient. “It is impossible that George Cruikshank of Queen Caroline’s trial-time can be alive!” The doctor asked the vivacious George to come in. He tripped in, in his eighty-fourth year, and, when the old officer expressed his astonishment, George exclaimed, “I’ll show you whether he is alive!” With this he took the poker and tongs from the grate, laid them upon the carpet, and executed the sword dance before Dr. Richardson’s astonished patient.

At the east end of the High Street, Portsmouth, and nearly opposite the house before which the Duke of Buckingham was stabbed by Felton, in 1628, stands the Unitarian Chapel. John Pounds habitually worshipped here on a Sunday evening, and the place where he used to sit, in front of one of the side galleries, just to the right of the minister, is still pointed out. He lies buried in the graveyard, on the left-hand side of the chapel, near the end of the little foot-path which leads round the building to the vestries. Shortly after his death a tablet was placed in the chapel, beneath the gallery, to his memory. Although his gravewas dug as near as possible to that part of the chapel wall opposite where he used to sit, yet this tablet was, apparently without any reason, put some distance away from the spot. In shape and material it is of the usual orthodox style—a square slab of white marble, edged with black, and inscribed on it are the words:—

Erected by friendsas a memorial of their esteemand respect forJohn Pounds,who, while earning his livelihoodby mending shoes, gratuitouslyeducated, and in part clothed and fed,some hundreds of poor children.He died suddenlyon the 1st of January, 1839,aged 72 years.Thou shalt be blessed: for theycannot recompense thee.

Not long after this tablet was placed in position the idea was mooted that a monument should be erected over his grave. The Rev. Henry Hawkes, the minister who then had charge of the place, at once took the matter up, and subscriptions came in so well that the monument was more than paid for. The surplus money was wisely laid out in the purchase of a Memorial Library, which stilloccupies one of the ante-rooms of the chapel. The monument erected over the grave is of a suitable description, plain but substantial, and is in form a square and somewhat tapering block of stone about four feet high. On the front is the following inscription:—

On the side facing the library door there are, in addition to the above, the ensuing sentences:—

This Monumenthas been erected chieflyby means of Penny Subscriptions,not only from the ChristianBrotherhoodwith whomJohn Poundshabitually worshippedin the adjoining Chapel,but from persons of widelydifferent Religious opinionsthroughout Great Britainand from the most distant partsof the World.In connection with this memorialhas also been founded in like mannerwithin these precinctsa Library to his memorydesigned to extendto an indefinite futuritythe solid mental and moral usefulnessto which the philanthropic shoemakerwas so earnestly devotedto the last day of his life.Pray for the blessing of God to prosper it.

Large trees overshade the modest monument, and the spot is a quiet one, being as far as possible away from the street.[4]

On the gravestone of Richard Turner, Preston, a hawker of fish, the following inscription appears:

Beneath this stone are deposited the remains ofRichard Turner, author of the word Teetotal, as applied to abstinence from all intoxicating liquors, who departed this life on the 27th day of October, 1846, aged 56 years.

In Mr. W. E. A. Axon’s able and entertaining volume, “Lancashire Gleanings” (pub. 1883), is an interesting chapter on the “Origin of the Word ‘Teetotal.’” In the same work we are told that Dr. Whitaker, the historian of Whalley, wrote the following epitaph on a model publican:—

Here lies the Body ofJohn Wigglesworth,More than fifty years he was theperpetual Innkeeper in this Town.Withstanding the temptations of that dangerous calling,he maintained good order in hisHouse, kept the Sabbath day Holy,frequented the Public Worshipwith his Family, induced his gueststo do the same, and regularlypartook of the Holy Communion.He was also bountiful to the Poor,in private as well as in public,and, by the blessings of Providenceon a life so spent, diedpossessed of competent Wealth,Feb. 28, 1813,aged 77 years.

The churchyard of Sutton Coldfield, Warwickshire,contains a gravestone bearing an inscription as follows:—

The writer of the foregoing epitaph was Dr. Booker, vicar of Dudley. The inscription is associated with one of the most remarkable trials of the present century. It will not be without interest to furnish a few notes on the case. One Abraham Thornton was tried at the Warwick Assizes for the murder of Mary Ashford, and acquitted. The brother and next of kin of the deceased, not being satisfied with the verdict, sued out, as the law allowed him, an appeal against Thornton, by which he could be put on his trialagain. The law allowed the appeal in case of murder, and it also gave option to the accused of having it tried by wager of law or by wager of battle. The brother of the unfortunate woman had taken no account of this, and accordingly, not only Mr. Ashford but the judge, jury, and bar were taken greatly aback, and stricken with dismay, when the accused, being requested to plead, took a paper from Mr. Reader, his counsel, and a pair of gloves, one of which he drew on, and, throwing the other on the ground, exclaimed, “Not guilty; and I am ready to defend the same with my body!” Lord Ellenborough on the bench appeared grave, and the accuser looked amazed, so the court was adjourned to enable the judge to have an opportunity of conferring with his learned brethren. After several adjournments, Lord Ellenborough at last declared solemnly, but reluctantly, that wager of battle was still the law of the land, and that the accused had a right of appeal to it. To get rid of the law an attempt was made, by passing a short and speedy Act of Parliament, but this was ruled impossible, as it would have beenex post facto, and people waited curiously to see the lists set up in the Tothill Fields. As Mr. Ashfordrefused to meet Thornton, he was obliged to cry “craven!” After that the appellor was allowed to go at large, and he could not be again tried by wager of law after having claimed his wager of battle. In 1819 an Act was passed to prevent any further appeals for wager of battle.

The following is from a gravestone in Saddleworth churchyard, and tells a painful story:—

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