The Dorset County Express and Agricultural Gazette.
Dorchester, Dorset, England, 1878-09-17 00:00:00

THE DORSET COUNTY EMPRESS AND AGRICULTURAL GAZETTE. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 187 S.

I Thee* thoughts are dispelled by dinner and duet of
peculiar silkiness. assisted by awritlher whoa sad talk
to correspond. Ulu, every other apartment at New-
burgh the dining-room has its objects of interest. The
fire-scrum are the ends of the 17th Liman' aha-
braoque, with the silver death's head on them; over
the sideboard hangs • 'portrait of ths late baronet, the
bosom friend of "Dolly" Fittolarthoe, who lles hard
by in Corwold Church, beneath a monument plesed
there by loving hands; on the folding threat beneath
are
.portraita, caricatures, and sketches accumulated
during thelast three generations, 01114) of these ma-
menting 1.. late Sir George Wombwell and Lord
Adolphus side by side, dressed in high.collaredz=
George IV, wigs, and curly-brimmed bats.
mysterious °ornery and up unsuspected flights of
stars lies the way to the sinoldng-ro, which, like
the long gallery, is in the oldest part of the sometime
Augustinian monastery. Every inch of wallearm:4ll
this quaint apartment is occupied by
of living friends and dead celebrities, or
Odd
curious old engravings of sporting sane&
statuettes 611 every nook and corner, and Mks,
such u the hoof of Turk, a charger who went through
the Crimean campaign, came back again, and now is
burled under a Willingtonia at the roar of the hones,
lie about in every direction. Greatly prized by the
owner are the numerous cups won at different shows
for foxhounds, pigs, shorthorns, homes, and dogs bred
by him. Beyond the smoking-room in his private
thuggery, in which he transacts! his laminae ; no light
matter for a broad-acrid baronet, keenly ally, to the
responsibility involved in the possession of the said
acres stud also to the pleasure of bung a hack,
1 winning prises with him, and selling him. In this
' retreat are many relics of the olden time: early local
newspapers, advertisement. of the flying ouches which
did the distance betwisenl London and York in forty-
eight hours, and—far more precious than these—
several letters of Sterne to his patron Lord Fathom-
berg, turning mostly on London gossip end P
events, both after the inimitable rnsaaZial
the author of the Seistisseaci Jouresg,
Sterne Is a kind of tutelary spirit of Coxwold, aid
there are few more agreeable ways of =e.a
morning than in making a pilgrbnage to
1 After watching the younger of Sir
1 Wombwell's family playing at cricket, with'lT
respective dogs, Gipsy, , and the rest, trying
to out, we dawdle through hothouses aid
grsesrhouese gay with red and yellow tomatoes
and feathery with innumerable firs& Returning
through the garden we find the young cricketers
equipped for riding, and mounted on wonderful
Their father orders • solemn march past, and
ponies. Their
the cavalcade • noin7 scamper across
country. Turning down the rad we peat the well-
known village inn, the only thatched house in
Coxwold and arrive at the curious old church with its
hexagonal tower, and pulpit celebrated as that from
which Yorick's sermons was delivered. A little
father on, on the opposite side of the way is Shandy
Hall. the house in which the &atiew J atal ourney an
Tristan Shandy were written. It is no longer the
vicarage, and haa, in fact, been divided into two work-
men's cottages. The rooms occupied by Sterne, how.
ever,'still preserve the original features. The -tree
too, under which meditation and composition were
done in summer-time is still fresh and green asthe
memory of the delightful writer who loved to sit under
It.
There is, however, • mightier memory than that of
Laurance Sterns associated with Newburgh. In the
long gallery is a glass case containing the saddle,
holster; pistols bit, and bridle of "the greeted prince
i who ever ruled n England." The saddle and holster-
cues as by no means of puritan simplicity, being of
crimson velvet heavily embroidered in gold. The
pistols are of portentous length, and very thin in the
and the bit is a cruel one with the tremendous
check-places common two centuries ago—doubtless the
Lord Protector liked his horse, like his Roundheads,
well in hand. Not quite opposite to these relics
hangs the portrait of • lady clad in dark green
and demureness. This serionelooldng dame is
Mary Cromwell, wife of the second Lord
Fauconberg. It was she who, with keen womanly
Instinct, sharpened yet more by filial affection, foram
that, the Restoration once achieved, the men who had
fled before Oliver at Nueby and Worcester would
not allow his bones to rest in Westminster. At dead
of night his corpse wu removed from the vault in the
Abbey, and that of some member of thanntainguished
crowd substituted for it. In solemn secrecy the
remains of him, of whom it was said," if not • king,
he was a man whom it was good for kings to have
among them," were conveyed to Newbnah, where
they yet repose, the insane fury of the Royalist ghouls,
who bung the supposed body of Cromwell as well as
that of Ireton on the gallows at Tyburn, having thus
been cheated of its noblest prey. The tomb of Crom-
well occupies the end of • narrow chamber at the head
of • flight of steep stairs, and I. an enormous mass of
stonework built and cemented into the walls, appar-
ently with the object of making it impenetrable.
There is no reason to doubt the truth of this story,
preserved in the Bellasyse family for two centuries
and • quarter. It is not • legend, but • genuine piece
of family history, and implicitly believed en the spot.
It is needless to say that the over-curious have again
and again begged the lords of Newburgh to have the
tomb opened ; but this reouest haa met with invariable
refusal even when proffered by the most illustrious
personage.. "No, no," observes; Sir George Womb- ,
well heartily as ever, but quite firmly. "We de not
make a show of our great relative's tomb, and it shall
not be opened. In this part of Yorkshire we no more
dig up our remote great-uncles than women our grand-
mothers. The Protector's bones shall rest in pros, at
least for my time."