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 Burial Bequests.

In June, 1864, there died at Drogheda one Miss Hardman, at the

advanced age of ninety-two years. She was buried in the family vault
in Peter's Protestant Church. The funeral took place on the eighth
day of her decease. It is not usual in Ireland to allow so long an
interval to elapse between the time of a person's death and burial;
in this instance it was owing to the expressed wish of the deceased,
and this originated in a very curious piece of family and local history.
Everybody has heard of the lady who was buried, being supposed
dead, and who bearing with her to the tomb, on her finger, a ring of
rare price, this was the means of her being rescued from her charnel
prison-house. A butler in the family of the lady, having his cupidity
excited, entered the vault at midnight in order to possess himself of
the ring, and in removing it from the finger the lady was restored to
consciousness and made her way in her grave-clothes to her
mansion. She lived many years afterwards before she was finally
consigned to the vault. The heroine of the story was a member of
the Hardman family—in fact, the late Miss Hardman's mother—and
the vault in Peter's Church was the locality where the startling revival
scene took place.
The story is commonly told in explanation of a monument in the
Church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, London, which is commemorative of
Constance Whitney, and represents a female rising from a coffin.
"This," says Mr. Godwin, in his popular history of the Churches of
London, "has been erroneously supposed to commemorate a lady,
who, having been buried in a trance, was restored to life through the
cupidity of the sexton, which induced him to dig up the body to
obtain possession of a ring." The female rising from the coffin is
undoubtedly emblematic of the Resurrection, and may have been
repeated upon other monuments elsewhere; but there is no such
monument at Drogheda, which as above is claimed as the actual
locality.
On May 24th, 1837, there died at Primrose Cottage, High Wycombe,
Bucks, Mr. John Guy, aged sixty-four. His remains were interred in a
brick grave in Hughenden Churchyard: on a marble slab, on the lid
of the coffin, is inscribed:

Here, without nail or shroud, doth lie,

Or covered with a pall, John Guy,
Born May 17th, 1773.
Died, „ 24th, 1837.

On his gravestone are the following lines:—

In coffin made without a nail,

Without a shroud his limbs to hide;
For what can pomp or show avail,
Or velvet pall to swell the pride?

Mr. Guy was possessed of considerable property, and was a native of

Gloucestershire. His grave and coffin were made under his directions
more than a twelvemonth previous to his death; he wrote the
inscriptions, he gave the orders for his funeral, and wrapped in
separate pieces of paper five shillings for each of the bearers. The
coffin was very neatly made, and looked more like a piece of
cabinet-work for a drawing-room than a receptacle for the dead.
Dr. Fidge, a physician of the old school, who in early days had
accompanied the Duke of Clarence (afterwards William IV.) when a
midshipman as medical attendant, possessed a favourite boat; upon
his retirement from Portsmouth Dockyard, where he held an
appointment, he had this boat converted into a coffin, with the
sternpiece fixed at its head. This coffin he kept under his bed for
many years. The circumstances of his death were very remarkable.
Feeling his end approaching, and desiring to add a codicil to his will,
he sent for his solicitor. On entering his chamber he found him
suffering from a paroxysm of pain, but which soon ceased; availing
himself of the temporary ease to ask him how he felt, he replied,
smiling: "I feel as easy as an old shoe," and looking towards the
nurse in attendance, said: "Just pull my legs straight, and place me
as a dead man; it will save you trouble shortly," words which he had
scarcely uttered before he calmly died.
Job Orton, of the Bell Inn, Kidderminster, had his tombstone, with an
epitaphic couplet, erected in the parish churchyard; and his coffin
was used by him for a wine-bin until required for another purpose.
Dr. John Gardner, "the worm doctor," originally of Long Acre, erected
his tomb and wrote the inscription thereon some years before his
death. Strangers reading the inscription naturally concluded he was
like his predecessor, "Egregious Moore," immortalized by Pope, "food
for worms," whereas he was still following his profession, that of a
worm-doctor, in Norton Folgate, where he had a shop, in the window
of which were displayed numerous bottles containing specimens of
tape and other worms, with the names of the persons who had been
tormented by them, and the date of their ejection. Finding his
practice declining from the false impression conveyed by his epitaph,
he dexterously caused the word intended to be interpolated, and the
inscription for a long time afterwards ran as follows:—

intended
Dr. John Gardner's last and best bedroom.
^

He was a stout, burly man, with a flaxen wig, and rode daily into
London on a large roan-coloured horse.
Not a few misers have carried their penury into the arrangements for
their interment. Edward Nokes, of Hornchurch, by his own direction,
was buried in this curious fashion:—A short time before his death,
which he hastened by the daily indulgence in nearly a quart of
spirits, he gave strict charge that his coffin should not have a nail in
it, which was actually adhered to, the lid being made fast with
hinges of cord, and minus a coffin-plate, for which the initials E. N.
cut upon the wood were substituted. His shroud was made of a
pound of wool. The coffin was covered with a sheet in place of a
pall, and was carried by six men, to each of whom he directed
should be given half-a-crown. At his particular desire, too, not one
who followed him to the grave was in mourning; but, on the
contrary, each of the mourners appeared to try whose dress should
be the most striking. Even the undertaker was dressed in a blue coat
and scarlet waistcoat.
Another deplorable case might be cited, that of Thomas Pitt, of
Warwickshire. It is reported that some weeks prior to the sickness
which terminated his despicable career, he went to several
undertakers in quest of a cheap coffin. He had left behind him
3,475l. in the public funds.

Major Peter Labelliere. From Kingsbury's print.

Burials on Box Hill and Leith Hill.

As the railway traveller passes over Red Hill, on the London and
Brighton line, his attention can scarcely fail to be struck with two
prominent points in the charming landscape—Box Hill, covered with
its patronymic shrub; and Leith Hill, surmounted by a square tower.
On each of these elevations is buried an eccentric person: one with
his head downwards, and the other in the usual horizontal position;
but the fondness for exaggerating things already extraordinary, has
led to the common misstatement that one person is buried with his
head downwards, and the other standing upon his feet. Of the two
interments, however, the following are the true versions.
On the north-western brow of Box Hill, and nearly in a line with the
stream of the Mole, as it flows towards Burford Bridge, was interred,
some sixty-five years since, Major Peter Labelliere, an officer of
marines. During the latter years of his life he had resided at Dorking,
and, in accordance with his own desire, he was interred on this spot,
long denoted by a wooden stake or stump. This gentleman in early
life fell in love with a lady, who, although he was remarkably
handsome in person, rejected his addresses. This circumstance
inflicted a deep wound on his mind, which, at a later period, religion
and politics entirely unsettled. Yet his eccentricities were harmless,
and himself the only sufferer. At this time the Duke of Devonshire,
who had been formerly fond of the major's society, settled on him a
pension of 100l. a year. Labelliere then lived at Chiswick, and there
wrote several tracts, both polemical and political, but the
incoherency of his arguments was demonstrative of mental
incapacity. From Chiswick he frequently walked to London, his
pockets filled to overflowing with newspapers and pamphlets, and
on the road he delighted to harangue the ragged boys who followed
him. He next removed to Dorking, and there resided in a mean
cottage, called "The Hole in the Wall," on Butter Hill. Among the
anecdotes of his eccentricity it is related that, to a gentleman with
whom he was intimate he presented a packet, carefully folded and
sealed, with a particular injunction not to open it till after his death.
This request was strictly complied with, when it was found to contain
merely a blank memorandum-book.
Long prior to his decease he selected the point of Box-Hill we have
named, where, in compliance with his oft-expressed wish, he was
buried, without church rites, with his head downwards; in order, he
said, that as "the world was turned topsy-turvy, it was fit that he
should be so buried that he might be right at last."[19] He died June
6th, 1800, and was interred on the 10th of the same month, when
great numbers of persons witnessed his funeral; and the slight
wooden bridge which then crossed the Mole having been removed
by some mischievous persons during the interment many had to
wade through the river on returning homewards. The Major earned
not the uncommon reward of eccentricity—his portrait being
engraved—by H. Kingsbury. Under Labelliere's name is inscribed in
the print—
"A Christian patriot and Citizen of the World."
The interment on Leith Hill is less characterised by oddity than that
of Major Labelliere on Box Hill. In a mansion on the south side of
Leith Hill lived Mr. Richard Hull, a gentleman of fortune, who, in
1766, with the permission of Sir John Evelyn, of Wotton, built a
tower on the summit of Leith Hill, from which the sea is visible, and
it became a landmark for mariners. It comprised two rooms, which
were handsomely furnished by the founder, for the accommodation
of those who resorted thither to enjoy the prospect. Over the
entrance, on the west side, was placed a stone with a Latin
inscription, which may be thus translated: "Traveller, this very
conspicuous tower was erected by Richard Hull, of Leith Hill Place,
Esq., in the reign of George III., 1766, that you might obtain an
extensive prospect over a beautiful country; not solely for his own
pleasure, but for the accommodation of his neighbours and all men."
Mr. Hull, was, by his own direction, interred within this tower, and an
epitaph inscribed on a marble slab let into the wall, on the ground-
floor, stated that he died January 18th, 1772, in his eighty-third year.
He was the oldest bencher of the Middle Temple, and sat many
years in the Parliament of Ireland. He lived, in his earlier years, in
intimacy with Pope, Trenchard, Bishop Berkeley, and other
distinguished men of the period; "and, to wear off the remainder of
his days, he purchased Leith Hill Place for a retirement, where he led
the life of a true Christian and rural philosopher; and, by his
particular desire, his remains were here deposited, in a private
manner, under this tower, which he had erected a few years before
his death."
After the decease of the founder, the building was neglected, and
suffered to fall into decay; but about 1796, Mr. W. Philip Perrin, who
had purchased Mr. Hull's estate, had the tower thoroughly repaired,
heightened several feet, and surmounted by a coping and
battlement, so as to render it a more conspicuous sea-mark; but the
lower part was filled in with lime and rubbish, and the entrance
walled up. Leith Hill is the highest eminence in Surrey, its extreme
point being 993 feet above the sea-level. It commands a view 200
miles in circumference. Dennis, the critic, described this prospect as
superior to anything he had ever seen in England or Italy, in its
surpassing "rural charms, pomp, and magnificence."

Jeremy Bentham's Bequest of his Remains.

Bentham's long life was incessantly and laboriously devoted to the

good of his species: in pursuance of which he ever felt that
incessant labour a happy task, that long life but too short for its
benevolent object. The preservation of his remains by his physician
and friend, to whose care they were confided, was in exact
accordance with his own desire. He had early in life determined to
leave his body for dissection. By a document dated as far back as
1769, he being then only twenty two-years of age, bequeathed it for
that purpose to his friend, Dr. Fordyce. The document is in the
following remarkable words:—
"This my will and general request I make, not out of affectation of
singularity, but to the intent and with the desire that mankind may
reap some small benefit in and by my decease, having hitherto had
small opportunities to contribute thereto while living."
A memorandum affixed to this document shows that it had
undergone Bentham's revision two months before his death, and
that this part of it had been solemnly ratified and confirmed. The
Anatomy Bill, passed subsequently to his death, for which a
foundation had been laid in The Use of the Dead to the Living (first
published in the Westminster Review, and afterwards reprinted, and
a copy given to every member of Parliament), had removed the main
obstructions in the way of obtaining anatomical knowledge; but the
state of the law previous to the adoption of the Anatomy Act was
such as to foster the popular prejudices against dissection, and the
effort to remove these prejudices was well worthy of a
philanthropist. After all the lessons which science and humanity
might learn from the dissection of his body had been taught,
Bentham further directed that the skeleton should be put together
and kept entire; that the head and face should be preserved; that
the whole figure, arranged as naturally as possible, should be attired
in the clothes he ordinarily wore, seated in his own chair, and
maintaining the attitude and aspect most familiar to him.
Mr. Bentham was perfectly aware that difficulty and even obloquy
might attend a compliance with the directions he gave concerning
the disposal of his body. He therefore chose three friends, whose
firmness he believed to be equal to the task, and asked them if their
affection for him would enable them to brave such consequences.
They engaged to follow his directions to the letter, and they were
faithful to their pledge. The performance of the first part of this duty
is thus described by an eye-witness, W. J. Fox, in the Monthly
Repository for July, 1832:—
"None who were present can ever forget that impressive scene. The
room (the lecture-room of the Webb Street School of Anatomy) is
small and circular, with no window but a central sky-light, and
capable of containing about three hundred persons. It was filled,
with the exception of a class of medical students and some eminent
members of that profession, by friends, disciples, and admirers of
the deceased philosopher, comprising many men celebrated for
literary talent, scientific research, and political activity. The corpse
was on the table in the middle of the room, directly under the light,
clothed in a night-dress, with only the head and hands exposed.
There was no rigidity in the features, but an expression of placid
dignity and benevolence. This was at times rendered almost vital by
the reflection of the lightning playing over them; for a storm arose
just as the lecturer commenced, and the profound silence in which
he was listened to was broken and only broken by loud peals of
thunder, which continued to roll at intervals throughout the delivery
of his most appropriate and often affecting address. With the
feelings which touch the heart in the contemplation of departed
greatness, and in the presence of death, there mingled a sense of
the power which that lifeless body seemed to be exercising in the
conquest of prejudice for the public good, thus co-operating with the
triumphs of the spirit by which it had been animated. It was a
worthy close of the personal career of the great philanthropist and
philosopher. Never did corpse of hero on the battle-field, 'with his
martial cloak around him,' or funeral obsequies chanted by stoled
and mitred priests in Gothic aisles, excite such emotions as the stern
simplicity of that hour in which the principle of utility triumphed over
the imagination and the heart."
The skeleton of Bentham, dressed in the clothes which he usually
wore, and with a wax face, modelled by Dr. Talrych, enclosed in a
mahogany case, with folding-doors, may now be seen in the
Anatomical Museum of University College Hospital, Gower Street,
London.

The Marquis of Anglesey's Leg.

Among the curiosities of Waterloo are the grave of the late Marquis
of Anglesey's leg, and the house in which it was cut off, and where
the boot belonging to it is preserved! The owner of the house to
whose share this relic has fallen finds it a most lucrative source of
revenue, and will, in spite of the absurdity of the thing, probably
bequeath it to his children as a valuable property. He has interred
the leg most decorously in the garden of the inn, within a coffin,
under a weeping willow, and has honoured it with a monument and
the following epitaph:—

Ci est enterrée la Jambe

de l'illustre et vaillant Comte d'Uxbridge,
Lieutenant-Général de S. M. Britannique,
Commandant en chef la cavalrie Anglaise, Belge, et Hollandaise,
blessé le 18 Juin, 1815,
à la mémorable bataille de Waterloo;
qui par son héroisme a concouru au triomphe de la cause
du genre humain;
Glorieusement décidée par l'éclatante victoire du dit jour.

Some wag scribbled this infamous couplet beneath the inscription:—

Here lies the Marquis of Anglesey's limb,

The devil will have the rest of him.

More apposite is the following epitaph, attributed to Mr. Canning, on

reading the description of the tomb erected to the memory of the
Marquis of Anglesey's leg:—

Here rests,—and let no saucy knave

Presume to sneer or laugh,
To learn that mould'ring in this grave
There lies—a British calf.
For he who writes these lines is sure
That those who read the whole,
Will find that laugh was premature,
 For here, too, lies a soul.

And here five little ones repose,

Twin born with other five,
Unheeded by their brother toes,
Who all are now alive.

A leg and foot, to speak more plain,

Lie here of one commanding;
Who, though he might his wits retain,
Lost half his understanding.

And when the guns, with thunder bright,

Poured bullets thick as hail,
Could only in this way be taught
To give the foe leg bail.

And now in England just as gay

As in the battle brave,
Goes to the rout, the ball, the play,
With one leg in the grave.

Fortune in vain has showed her spite,

For he will soon be found,
Should England's sons engage in fight,
Resolved to stand his ground.

But Fortune's pardon I must beg;

She meant not to disarm:
And when she lopped the hero's leg,
She did not seek his h-arm.

And but indulged a harmless whim,

Since he could walk with one:
She saw two legs were lost on him,
Who never meant to run.
When the Marquis of Anglesey was, for the second time, Lord
Lieutenant of Ireland, he became very unpopular through an
unguarded speech; and Mr. O'Connell, in one of his flowery
addresses, quoted the lines:—

God takes the good, too good on earth to stay;

And leaves the bad, too bad to take away.

The great orator continued:—

This couplet's truth in Paget's case we find;

God took his leg, and left himself behind.

Of a ballad sung in the streets of Dublin, the chorus ran as follows:—

He has one leg in Dublin, the other in Cork,

And you know very well what I mean, O!

It was stated that he had an artificial leg in Cork.

The Cottle Church.

"For more than twenty years," says Mr. De Morgan in his "Budget of
Paradoxes"[20] in the Athenæum, 1865, "printed papers have been
sent about in the name of Elizabeth Cottle. It is not so remarkable
that such papers should be concocted, as that they should circulate
for such a length of time without attracting public attention. Eighty
years ago, Mrs. Cottle might have rivalled Lieutenant Brothers or
Joanna Southcote. Long hence, when the now current volumes of
our journals are well ransacked works of reference, those who look
into them will be glad to see this feature of our time: I therefore
make a few extracts, faithfully copied as to type. The Italic is from
the new Testament; the Roman is the requisite interpretation:—
"Robert Cottle 'was numbered (5196) with the
transgressors' at the back of the Church in Norwood
Cemetery, May 12, 1858—Isa. liii. 12. The Rev. J. G.
Collinson, Minister of St. James's Church, Clapham, the
then district church, before All Saints was built, read the
funeral service over the Sepulchre wherein never before
man was laid.
"Hewn on the stone, 'at the mouth of the sepulchre,' is his
name—Robert Cottle, born at Bristol, June 2, 1774; died at
Kirkstall Lodge, Clapham Park, May 6, 1858. And that day
(May 12, 1858) was the preparation (day and year for 'the
PREPARED place for you'—Cottleites—by the widowed
mother of the Father's house, at Kirkstall Lodge—John xiv.
2, 3). And the Sabbath (Christmas Day, December 25,
1859) drew on (for the resurrection of the Christian body
on 'the third [Protestant Sun]-day'—1 Cor. xv. 35). Why
seek ye the living (God of the New Jerusalem—Heb. xii. 22;
Rev. iii. 12) among the dead (men): he (the God of Jesus)
is not here (in the grave), but is risen (in the person of the
Holy Ghost, from the supper, of 'the dead in the second
death' of Paganism). Remember how he spake unto you (in
the Church of the Rev. George Clayton, April 14, 1839). I
will not drink henceforth (at this last Cottle supper) of the
fruit of this (Trinity) vine, until that day (Christmas Day,
1859), when I (Elizabeth Cottle) drank it new with you
(Cottleites) in my Father's kingdom—John xv. If this
(Trinitarian) cup may not pass away from me (Elizabeth
Cottle, April 14, 1839), except I drink it ('new with you
Cottleites, in my Father's kingdom'), thy will be done—Matt.
xxvi. 29, 42, 64. 'Our Father which art (God) in heaven,
hallowed be thy name, thy (Cottle) kingdom come, thy will
be done in earth, as it is (done) in (the new) Heaven (and
new earth of the new name of Cottle—Rev. xxi. 1; iii. 12).
"... (Queen Elizabeth, from A. D. 1558 to 1566). And this
WORD yet once more (by a second Elizabeth)—the WORD
of his oath, signifieth (at John Scott's baptism of the Holy
Ghost) the removing of those things (those Gods and those
doctrines) that are made (according the Creeds and
Commandments of men) that those things (in the moral
law of God) which cannot be shaken (as a rule of faith and
practice) may remain; wherefore we receiving (from
Elizabeth) a kingdom (of God) which cannot be moved (by
Satan) let us have grace (in his grace of Canterbury)
whereby we may serve God acceptably (with the acceptable
sacrifice of Elizabeth's body and blood of the communion of
the Holy Ghost) with reverence (for truth) and godly fear
(of the unpardonable sin of blasphemy against the Holy
Ghost), for our God (the Holy Ghost) is a consuming fire (to
the nation that will not serve him in the Cottle Church). We
cannot defend ourselves against the Almighty, and if He is
our defence, no nation can invade us.
"In verse 4 the Church of St. Peter is in prison between four
quaternions of Soldiers—the Holy Alliance of 1815. Rev. vii.
1. Elizabeth, the Angel of the Lord Jesus appears to the
Jewish and Christian body with the vision of prophecy to
the Rev. Geo. Clayton and his clerical brethren, April 8th,
1839. Rhoda was the name of her maid at Putney Terrace
who used to open the door to her Peter, the Rev. Robert
Ashton, the Pastor of 'the little flock' 'of 120 names
together, assembled in an upper (school) room' at Putney
Chapel, to which little flock she gave the revelation (Acts i.
13, 15) of Jesus the same King of the Jews yesterday at the
prayer meeting, December 31, 1841, and to-day, January
1, 1842, and for ever. See book of Life, page 24. Matt. xviii.
19; xxi. 13-16. In verse 6 the Italian body of St. Peter is
sleeping 'in the second death' between the two Imperial
soldiers of France and Austria. The Emperor of France from
January 1 to July 11, 1859, causes the Italian chains of St.
Peter to fall off from his Imperial hands.
 "I say unto thee, Robert Ashton, thou art Peter, a stone,
and upon this rock, of truth, will I Elizabeth, the Angel of
Jesus, build my Cottle Church, and the gates of hell, the
doors of St. Peter at Rome, shall not prevail against it—
Matt. xvi. 18; Rev. iii. 7-12."

"This will be enough for the purpose. When anyone who pleases can
circulate new revelations of this kind, uninterrupted and unattended
to, new revelations will cease to be a good investment of
eccentricity. I take it for granted that the gentlemen whose names
are mentioned have nothing to do with the circulars or their
doctrines. Any lady who may happen to be entrusted with a
revelation may nominate her own pastor, or any other clergyman,
one of her apostles; and it is difficult to say to what court the
nominees can appeal to get the commission abrogated.
"March 16, 1865. During the last two years the circulars have
continued. It is hinted that funds are low; and two gentlemen, who
are represented as gone 'to Bethelem asylum in despair,' say that
Mrs. Cottle will 'spend all that she hath, while Her Majesty's
ministers are flourishing on the wages of sin.' The following is
perhaps one of the most remarkable passages in the whole:—

"Extol and magnify Him (Jehovah, the everlasting God, see

the Magnificat and Luke i. 45, 46-68-73-79), that rideth (by
rail and steam over land and sea, from his holy habitation
at Kirkstall Lodge, Psa. lxxvii. 19, 20), upon the (Cottle)
heavens as it were (September 9, 1864, see pages 21,
170), upon an (exercising, Psa. cxxxi. 1), horse-(chair,
bought of Mr. John Ward, Leicester Square)."

Horace Walpole's Chattels saved by a

Talisman.
In the spring of 1771, Walpole's house in Arlington Street was
broken open in the night, and his cabinets and trunks forced and
plundered. The Lord of Strawberry was at his villa when he received
by a courier the intelligence of the burglary. In an admirable letter to
Sir Horace Mann he thus narrates the sequel:—"I was a good quarter
of an hour before I recollected that it was very becoming to have
philosophy enough not to care about what one does care for; if you
don't care there's no philosophy in bearing it. I despatched my upper
servant, breakfasted, fed the bantams as usual, and made no more
hurry to town than Cincinnatus would if he had lost a basket of
turnips. I left in my drawers 270l. of bank-bills and three hundred
guineas, not to mention all my gold and silver coins, some
inestimable miniatures, a little plate, and a good deal of furniture,
under no guard but that of two maidens.... When I arrived, my
surprise was by no means diminished. I found in three different
chambers three cabinets, a large chest, and a glass case of china
wide open, the locks not picked, but forced, and the doors of them
broken to pieces. You will wonder that this should surprise me when
I had been prepared for it. Oh! the miracle was that I did not find,
nor to this hour have found, the least thing missing. In the cabinet
of modern medals, there were, and so there are still, a series of
English coins, with downright John Trot guineas, half-guineas,
shillings, sixpences, and every kind of current money. Not a single
piece was removed. Just so in the Roman and Greek cabinet; though
in the latter were some drawers of papers, which they had tumbled
and scattered about the floor. A great exchequer chest, that
belonged to my father, was in the same room. Not being able to
force the lock, the philosophers (for thieves that steal nothing
deserve the title much more than Cincinnatus, or I) had wrenched a
great flapper of brass with such violence as to break it into seven
pieces. The trunk contained a new set of chairs of French tapestry,
two screens, rolls of prints, and a suit of silver stuff that I had made
for the king's wedding. All was turned topsy-turvy, and nothing
stolen. The glass case and cabinet of shells had been handled as
roughly by these impotent gallants. Another little table with drawers,
in which, by the way, the key was left, had been opened too, and a
metal standish that they ought to have taken for silver, and a silver
hand-candlestick that stood upon it, were untouched. Some plate in
the pantry, and all my linen just come from the wash had no more
charms for them than gold or silver. In short I could not help
laughing, especially as the only two movables neglected were
another little table with drawers and the money, and a writing box
with the bank-notes, both in the same chamber where they made
the first havoc. In short, they had broken out a panel in the door of
the area, and unbarred and unbolted it, and gone out at the street-
door, which they left wide open at five o'clock in the morning. A
passenger had found it so, and alarmed the maids, one of whom ran
naked into the street, and by her cries waked my Lord Rommey, who
lives opposite. The poor creature was in fits for two days, but at
first, finding my coachmaker's apprentice in the street, had sent him
to Mr. Conway, who immediately despatched him to me before he
knew how little damage I had received, the whole of which consists
in repairing the doors and locks of my cabinets and coffers.
"All London is reasoning on this marvellous adventure, and not an
argument presents itself that some other does not contradict. I insist
that I have a talisman. You must know that last winter, being asked
by Lord Vere to assist in settling Lady Betty Germaine's auction I
found in an old catalogue of her collection this article, 'The Black
Stone into which Dr. Dee used to call his spirits.' Dr. Dee, you must
know, was a great conjuror in the days of Queen Elizabeth and has
written a folio of the dialogues he held with his imps. I asked eagerly
for this stone; Lord Vere said he knew of no such thing, but if found,
it should certainly be at my service. Alas, the stone was gone! This
winter I was again employed by Lord Frederic Campbell, for I am an
absolute auctioneer, to do him the same service about his father's
(the Duke of Argyle's) collection. Among other odd things he
produced a round piece of shining black marble in a leathern case,
as big as the crown of a hat, and asked me what that possibly could
be? I screamed out, 'Oh Lord, I am the only man in England that can
tell you! It is Dr. Dee's Black Stone!' It certainly is; Lady Betty had
formerly given away or sold, time out of mind, for she was a
thousand years old, that part of the Peterborough collection which
contained natural philosophy. So, or since, the Black Stone had
wandered into an auction, for the lotted paper is still on it. The Duke
of Argyle, who bought everything, bought it. Lord Frederic gave it to
me; and if it was not this magical stone, which is only of high-
polished coal, that preserved my chattels, in truth I cannot guess
what did."
At the Strawberry Hill sale, in 1842, this precious relic was sold for
12l. 12s., and is now in the British Museum. It was described in the
catalogue as "a singularly interesting and curious relic of the
superstition of our ancestors—the celebrated Speculum of Kennel
Coal, highly polished, in a leathern case. It is remarkable for having
been used to deceive the mob, by the celebrated Dr. Dee, the
conjuror, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth," &c. When Dee fell into
disrepute, and his chemical apparatus and papers and other stock-
in-trade were destroyed by the mob, who made an attack upon his
house, this Black Stone was saved. It appears to be nothing more
than a polished piece of cannel coal; but this is what Butler means
when he says:—

Kelly did all his feats upon

The devil's looking glass—a stone.
 Margaret Finch, the Norwood Gipsy.

Norwood Gipsies.

Two centures ago, Norwood, in Surrey, was celebrated as the haunt

of many of the gipsy-tribe, who in the summertime pitched their
blanket-tents beneath its shady trees. Thus we find Pepys recording
a visit to the place, under the date of August 11th, 1688:—"This
afternoon my wife, and Mercer, and Deb. went with Pelling to the
gipsies at Lambeth, and had their fortunes told; but what they did I
did not inquire." [Norwood is in the southern part of Lambeth
parish.]
From their reputed knowledge of futurity, the Norwood gipsies were
often consulted by the young and credulous. This was particularly
the case some sixty or seventy years ago, when it was customary
among the working class and servants of London to walk to
Norwood on the Sunday afternoon to have their fortunes told, and
also to take refreshment at the Gipsy House, said to have been first
licensed in the reign of James the First. The house long bore on its
sign-post a painting of the deformed figure of Margaret Finch, the
Queen of the gipsies.
The register of Beckenham, under the date of October 24th, 1740,
records the burial of Margaret Finch, who lived to the age of 109
years. After travelling over various parts of the kingdom (during the
greater part of a century), she settled at Norwood, whither her great
age and the fame of her fortune-telling attracted numerous visitors.
From a habit of sitting on the ground, with her chin resting on her
knees, the sinews became so contracted that she could not rise from
that posture. After her death they were obliged to enclose her body
in a deep square box. Her funeral was attended by two mourning-
coaches, a sermon was preached on the occasion, and a great
concourse of people attended the ceremony. There is an engraved
portrait of this gipsy queen, from a drawing made in 1739.
In the summer of 1815, the gipsies of Norwood were "apprehended
as vagrants, and sent in three coaches to prison," and this
magisterial interference, and the increase of houses and population,
have long since driven the gipsies from their haunts; but the
association is preserved in the Gipsy Hill station of the Crystal Palace
Railway.

"Cunning Mary," of Clerkenwell.

Early in the seventeenth century, one Mary Woods, of Norwich, a

person who professed skill in palmistry, came to London in the way
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