Puslapio vaizdai
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learned antiquary and ecclesiologist. The birds were very noisy and busy in the carved roof as we left; it may be that some of them had ideas of nestbuilding there.

It was early in the morning when we left Aylsham; it was now past midday, and the cravings of the inner man suggested to us that it would be well to seek some inn. Sall could give us no accommodation; we did not even notice there the almost universal village 'public. Not knowing where to go, our map was consulted, and as Reepham appeared to be the nearest town, we traced out the road thither and hastened on.

We found to our dismay upon arriving at Reepham (pronounced by the natives · Reef hem '), that it was a market-day there; the little town was full of farmers and cattle, and, just as we feared, the inn was full also. The stables were thronged, and the courtyard was crowded with conveyances of all sorts, but the ostler came up smiling and said he would manage to get our horses in some way, and he did, though how he contrived to do what seemed to us the impossible I know not, but we doubled his fee upon leaving for his civility and cleverness. A model ostler he. We were only too thankful to get the horses stabled at all ; as for ourselves we had to feed on the crumbs that fell from the farmers' 'ordinary,' and very substantial crumbs they were. Although the farmers had made mighty inroads into the great joints of beef and large tarts, there remained more than enough to satisfy our wants.

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Our repast finished, we took a stroll round the town, and eventually found our way to the churchyard, or perhaps I should more correctly say *churches' yard, for there are actually two churches in the one God's Acre, and there were formerly three, the parishes of Reepham, Whitwell, and Hackford each having its own separate church in the same churchyard, but that belonging to Hackford was burnt down in 1500. The church allotted to Reepham seemed to us as though it might be interesting, so we set out to find the clerk, and a pretty hunt we had for him. We were directed to three different houses by as many different persons, upon asking where he lived, which was puzzling, as we thought one home enough for the clerk. However, at the first two houses we called at nobody was at home, ‘being market-day;' then we had a search for that individual at one or two public houses, but he had always “just left' as we arrived, which was provoking and trying to our tempers. Then in despair we made our way to the third house. A woman answered the door. Could we have the keys of Reepham chuch ?' we asked. sorry, but I ain't got them,' was the reply. We were perplexed what to do next ; we explained that we had been directed there, as well as to two other houses, and asked if she could tell us where the clerk really lived or was likely to be found. “Sure I don't know,' said the woman; he don't live here; but I've the key of the Primitive Methodist Chapel, if you would like to see over that.' We had no

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TOMB OF A CRUSADER.

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desire to see over the Primitive Methodist Chapel, and so went our way, thinking to ourselves that the people of Reepham were exceedingly stupid. Then we did the only thing remaining to be done : we sought out the rectory, getting even misdirected as to our road thither, but at last we discovered it, and, ringing the bell, asked to see the rector, explaining our wishes and the strange difficulty we had to learn anything about the habitation of the clerk. The rector very kindly offered to take us over the church himself. Here we found a very fine and interesting canopied tomb, with the effigy in marble of a Crusader, cross-legged, lying upon a heap of stones. The good knight's nose was broken, otherwise the monument was well preserved. The inscription told us this was to the memory of Sir Roger de Kerdeston who died in 1337.

The rector pointed out to us a coat of arms and crest upon the tomb, which he said was the same as now borne by the Girdlestones, which family therefore, it was presumed, had been related to the Crusader in question. The most curious thing about the monument is the fact that the valiant knight is shown as resting on a rough heap of stones—not a very easy bed. The rector said that he could give no explanation of this peculiar monumental feature; he told us that it had puzzled several learned antiquaries who had seen it, and who disputed energetically upon the matter, as is their wont, but came to no satisfactory conclusion as to why the knight was so represented. We guessed that he might perchance have fallen in

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the battle-field on a heap of stones, and the fact was thus recorded on his tomb. Next the rector called our attention to the very ancient lead-lined stone font, older than the church, and of Saxon origin. He told us that if we cared to mount to the top the tower there was a very quaint inscribed bell there, well worth seeing; but as the steps were many, winding, and much worn, and the tower dark, we preferred to imagine the bell rather than to climb to it. Thanking the rector for his courtesy, we returned to our inn and ordered the horses to be' put to. Whilst waiting for the phaeton to come round to the door, we discovered a work on Norfolk in our room. Glancing through this volume we came upon the particulars of two wonderful trees that grow in the bowling-green of the Woodrow inn, which inn we passed early in the morning on our way from Aylsham to Cawston, but not knowing at the time of these peculiar trees, we did not see them, though we might easily have done so, as we pulled up to make a sketch of the pretty wayside hostelry, which attracted us by its bold sign-board swinging from a beam that stretches right across the road in the old-time style. The following is the account of this strange freak of nature which we transcribed into our notebook : . There are two trees situated in the bowling-green of the Woodrow inn which are great curiosities; not only every branch but every twig of which bears leaves of three different kinds of trees, namely, oak, beech, and hornbeam. We also made a further extract from this work as follows:

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* Near to the Woodrow inn, by the roadside, a small stone pillar is erected on the spot where Sir Henry Hobart, Bart., M.P. for Norfolk, fell in a duel with swords in 1709 with Mr. Oliver Le Neve, who fought with his left hand.'

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