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 churchyard of Eltham.  I sympathised 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 services, 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.

[Illustration:  Contemplation]

[Illustration:  The Widow]

The widow.

    She was so charitable and pitious
    She would weep if that she saw a mouse
    Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled;
    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 frizzled 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.

I have had the curiosity to gather a few particulars concerning her.  She was a great belle in town between thirty and forty years since, and reigned for two seasons with all the insolence of beauty, refusing several excellent offers; when, unfortunately, she was robbed of her charms and her lovers by an attack of the small-pox.  She retired immediately into the country, where she some time after inherited an estate, and married a baronet, a former admirer, whose passion had suddenly revived; “having,” as he said, “always loved her mind rather than her person.”