“Here lieth the body of Joseph Batte, confidential servant to George Birch, Esq., of Hamstead Hall.  His grateful friend and master caused this inscription to be written in memory of his discretion, fidelity, diligence, and continence.  He died (a bachelor) aged 84, having lived 44 years in the same family.”

The other was taken from a tombstone in Eltham churchyard: 

“Here lie the remains of Mr. James Tappy, who departed this life on the 8th of September, 1818, aged 84, after a faithful service of 60 years in one family; by each individual of which he lived respected, and died lamented by the sole survivor.”

Few monuments, even of the illustrious, have given me the glow about the heart that I felt while copying this honest epitaph in the church-yard of Eltham.  I sympathized with this “sole survivor” of a family mourning over the grave of the faithful follower of his race, who had been, no doubt, a living memento of times and friends that had passed away; and in considering this record of long and devoted service, I called to mind the touching speech of Old Adam, in “As You Like It,” when tottering after the youthful son of his ancient master: 

  “Master, go on, and I will follow thee
  To the last gasp, with love and loyalty!”

[Note.—­I cannot but mention a tablet which I have seen somewhere in the chapel of Windsor Castle, put up by the late king to the memory of a family servant, who had been a faithful attendant of his lamented daughter, the Princess Amelia.  George III. possessed much of the strong domestic feeling of the old English country gentleman; and it is an incident curious in monumental history, and creditable to the human heart, a monarch erecting a monument in honour of the humble virtues of a menial.]

THE WIDOW.

  She was so charitable and pitious
  She would weep if that she saw a mous
  Caught in a trap, if it were dead or Wed: 
  Of small hounds had she, that she fed
  With rost flesh, milke, and wastel bread,
  But sore wept she if any of them were dead,
  Or if man smote them with a yard smart.

  —­Chaucer.

Notwithstanding the whimsical parade made by Lady Lillycraft on her arrival, she has none of the petty stateliness that I had imagined; but, on the contrary, she has a degree of nature and simple-heartedness, if I may use the phrase, that mingles well with her old-fashioned manners and harmless ostentation.  She dresses in rich silks, with long waist; she rouges considerably, and her hair, which is nearly white, is frizzed out, and put up with pins.  Her face is pitted with the small-pox, but the delicacy of her features shows that she may once have been beautiful; and she has a very fair and well-shaped hand and arm, of which, if I mistake not, the good lady is still a little vain.