is a ruin, and the other ought to be so.  Returning in a one-horse chair over a wild vast heath, I went out of the road to see the remains of Buttley Abbey; which however I could not see; for, as the keys of Orford castle were at Sudborn, so the keys of Buttley were at Orford!  By this time it was night; we lost our way, were in excessive rain for above two hours, and only found our way to be overturned into the mire the next morning going into Ipswich.  Since that I went to see an old house built by Secretary Naunton.(605) His descendant, who is a strange retired creature, was unwilling to let us see it; but we did, and little in it worth seeing.  The house never was fine, and is now out of repair; has a bed with ivory pillars and loose rings, presented to the secretary by some German prince or German artist; and a small gallery of indifferent portraits, among which there are scarce any worth notice but of the Earl of Northumberland, Anna Bullen’s lover, and of Sir Antony Wingfield, who having his hand tucked into his girdle, the housekeeper told us, had had his fingers cut off by Harry viii.  But Harry viii. was not a man pour s’arr`eter `a ces minuties la!

While we waited for leave to see the house, I strolled into the churchyard, and was struck with a little door open into the chancel, through the arch of which I discovered cross-legged knights and painted tombs!  In short, there are no less than eight considerable monuments, very perfect, of Wingfields, Nauntons, and a Sir John Boynet and his wife, as old as Richard the Second’s time.  But what charmed me still more, were two figures of Secretary Naunton’s father and mother in the window in painted glass, near two feet high, and by far the finest painting on glass I ever saw.  His figure, in a puffed doublet, breeches and bonnet, and cloak of scarlet and yellow, is absolutely perfect:  her shoulder is damaged.  This church, which is scarce bigger than a large chapel, is very ruinous, though containing such treasures!  Besides these, there are brasses on the pavement, with a succession of all the wonderful head-dresses which our plain virtuous grandmothers invented to tempt our rude and simple ancestors.- -I don’t know what our nobles might be, but I am sure that Milliners three or four hundred years ago must have been more accomplished in the arts, as Prynne calls them, of crisping, curling, frizzling, and frouncing, than all the tirewomen of Babylon, modern Paris, or modern Pall-Mall.  Dame Winifred Boynet, whom I mentioned above, is accoutered with the coiffure called piked horns, which, if there were any signs in Lothbury and Eastcheap, must have brushed them about strangely, as their ladyships rode behind their gentlemen ushers!  Adieu!

(604) The name of the cook in question.

(605) Sir Robert Naunton, master of the court of wards.  He wrote Anecdotes of Queen Elizabeth and her favourites.

273 Letter 147 To The Rev. Henry Etough.(606) Woolterton, Sept. 10, 1755.