nice woman of 55, who was born blind and has a curious history. Her father was an illegitimate son blind from birth, but a fine handsome man, remarkably clever, who built a business in the village and married a nice woman and had 9 children. But all were born blind. They all grew up and lived until about 30 or 35 and then one by one died, except this one—Miss M. Miss M's mother, they say, was a woman of a very beautiful character and very religious. When her children were growing up and the family were all happy and healthy and prosperous in spite of so much blindness, an old friend of the wife told her a secret which she had kept in her breast for many years: it was that she—Mrs. M. and her husband were children of the same father, this so affected the poor woman's mind that she lost her reason and died in an asylum. Do you know Melksham? I found it a little town of stone instead of brick like the others, and was reminded that it is near Bath in a stone-producing district. Not far from Melksham is Trowbridge, another nice little old town where I have been twice lately in search of a person I wanted to see. One day while waiting I went to pass an idle hour in the church and when idly gazing at a marble mural tablet on which a dying priest with a Roman nose, surrounded by his sorrowing friends, is sculptured the name of George Crabbe under it arrested my attention. Yes, it was the poet's monument: he was vicar of Trowbridge 18 years until 1832 when he died. The old verger then told me this story—has it ever been printed? During some repairs in this part of the building one of the workmen broke open Crabbe's grave and carried off the skull, which he sold to a publican in the town for half a crown. He had it for some time, then a Mr. Foley, a wealthy man of the town, hearing about it, got the head and had it reburied, but not with the body. It was placed in a casket made specially for it and buried by itself within the wall just under the tablet. If you will send me a line addressed to Post Office, Martin, Salisbury.
With kindest regards,
W. H. Hudson
