both very concave and slippery with the tread of generations departed. We reached a large parvise, or priest's chamber, provided with a fireplace; the uneven floor was strewn with bits of broken tiles, worm-eaten wood, plaster, bricks, etc. The chamber was exceedingly dusty and cobwebby, but we at once enthusiastically began to search amongst the litter for anything of interest, but, alas! discovered nothing noteworthy; the tiles were modern. The sexton was right after all—it was full of rubbish! So, disappointed and almost as white as a miller, we descended the slippery steps. Then as the sexton—there was no clerk, he informed us—seemed in a chatty mood, we asked him if he knew of any curious inscription in the churchyard. "Well, I think I can show you one that will interest you," he replied, whereupon he led the way outside and we followed. Coming to an old tombstone he remarked, "Now, I call this a funny one; it is to a man and his wife who both died in the same year, and were both exactly the same age to a day when they died." Then he rubbed the ancient stone over with his hand, that we might better read what was written thereon, which I copied as follows:—
To
The Memory of
John Bland
Who Died March 25th, 1797,
Aged 75 Years, 6 Weeks, and 4 Days.
Also of
Jane, his Widow
Who Died May 11th, 1797,
Aged 75 Years, 6 Weeks, and 4 Days.
