expense of repairing it was defrayed by a grant of chimney money for, I believe, seven years, temp. Charles II." In bygone times the "Boar's Head" was a common tavern sign, and this is not surprising for the animal figures in English history, poetry, romance and popular pastimes. The most famous inn bearing the title of the "Boar's Head" was that in Eastcheap, London. The earliest mention of this tavern occurs in the testament of William Warden in the days of Richard II., who gave "all that tenement called the Boar's Head in Eastcheap to a college of priests, or chaplain, founded by Sir William Walworth, the Lord Mayor, in the adjoining church of St. Michael, Crooked Lane." It was here that Prince Hal and "honest Jack Falstaff" played their pranks. At the door of the house until the Great Fire were carved figures of the two worthies. In the works of Goldsmith will be found a charming chapter called "Reflections in the Boar's Head Tavern, Eastcheap"; anyone interested in this old place should not fail to read it. In his pleasant day-dreams he forgets the important fact that the original house perished in the Great Fire. In the Guildhall Library is preserved the stone sign from the old house, which was pulled down in 1831 to make way for the streets leading to the new London Bridge. We give a picture of this oldtime sign on the opposite page. A famous waiter of this tavern was buried in the graveyard of St. Michael's Church, hard by, and a monument of Purbeck stone was placed to his memory bearing an interesting inscription. We give a picture of the gravestone, which has been removed to the yard of St. Magnus the Martyr. Here lieth the Body of ROBERT PRESTON Bacchus to give the toping World Surprize PRESTON'S TOMBSTONE AT ST. MAGNUS THE MARTYR. The next example from Abesford, on an exciseman, is entitled to a place among Bacchanalian epitaphs : No supervisor's check he fears Now no commissioner obeys; He's free from cares, entreaties, tears, In the churchyard of North Wingfield, Derbyshire, a gravestone bears the following inscription: In memory of THOMAS, son of John and Mary Clay, who departed this life December 16th, 1724, in the 40th year of his age. What though no mournful kindred stand Around the solemn bier, No parents wring the trembling hand, Or drop the silent tear. No costly oak adorned with art My weary limbs inclose; No friends impart a winding sheet To deck my last repose. The cause of the foregoing curious epitaph is thus explained. Thomas Clay was a man of intemperate habits, and at the time of his death was indebted to the village innkeeper, named Adlington, to the amount of twenty pounds. The publican resolved to seize the body; but the parents of the deceased carefully kept the door locked until the day appointed for the funeral. As soon as the door was opened, Adlington rushed into the house, seized the corpse, and placed it on a form in the open street in front of the residence of the parents of the departed. Clay's friends refused to discharge the publican's account. After the body had been exposed for it to the several days, Adlington committed it to ground in a bacon chest. We conclude this class of epitaphs with the following from Winchester Cathedral yard : In memory of THOMAS THETCHER, a Grenadier in the North Regiment of Hants Militia, who died of a violent fever contracted by drinking small beer when hot the 12th of May, 1764, aged 26 years. In grateful remembrance of whose universal goodwill towards his comrades this stone is placed here at their expense, as a small testimony of their regard and concern. Here sleeps in peace a Hampshire Grenadier, Who caught his death by drinking cold small beer; And when ye're hot drink strong, or none at all. This memorial, being decayed, was restored by the officers of the garrison, A.D. 1781:— An honest soldier never is forgot, Whether he die by musket or by pot. This stone was placed by the North Hants Militia, when disembodied at Winchester, on 26th April, 1802, in consequence of the original stone being destroyed. |