The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1886-11-17
OUR FOREIGN LETTER.
Devonshhire and Somerset concIuc-
ed-The Record OF Richard fuckers
Birth Found in Stogumber Vicar
tspeclal Correspondence Of the pnrss.l

Especial Correspondence of the PREss)
Reaching the yicarage the wears wife well
coined us with courtesy; but informed us
her husband had been ill and could not see
us for an hour. After waiting awhile in the
cosy drawing room, whose garden windows
were flung wide open to give free entrance
to the melody of warbling birds and the
sweet odors of the opening flowers, we wan
dered into the chuchyard. 1t was cautiously
whispered from one to the other, that this
hour might be more proftably spent in de-
ciphering the parish records than in roam
ing about and moralizing over the stilted
platitudes on Immortality and religion on the
gravestones. Although we were not quite
strangers, being acquainted by corrsspon-
dence, and our coming had been announced
the previous evening by telegraph, yet in
spite of these credentials of respectable
to, and our inward consciousness of rect-
tude, we had learned not to expect so much
confidence could be placed in foreigners. 1t
was not so in Ne beginning, is not to-day nor
ever will be to the end Of time, that the ma
jority of English people will not first mis-
trust everyone, and put them to the severest
eCoeo VI oSl utluys uutii Tue ulSeSLdDllSHme0L
of many of the revered and infexible bar
riers to freedom in thought and action are
removed. These vicarages are delightful re-
treats away from the hustle and dust of
town life, where the Wears live in the very
element of study and culture. They need not
make much effort in sermonizing to please
the simple folk who gather about them on
the Sabbath, and if they fail to satisfy the
taste and pride of their hearers, they never
fear they shall be ousted, SO they may lead
very easy lives unless they love work for the
Masters sake. At Morthoe, forlorn sea-
side hamlet, we read the tablet, recording
the recent death of the vicar, who had
watched over this flock fifty seven years. He
might have buried in those long years every
member of his charge, who could remember
his coming among them. We thought how
full of mixed emotions his heart must have
been, and his memory of past scenes, as, in
his latter days, he laid his trembling hands
upon the heads of the children's children,
even to the third generation, to christen
them as members of his fold. We saw how
tenderly he must have loved the people whom
he had carried over rough places, and how
broad must have been his charity for their
inherited evils and the many hindrances that
beset their pathway. In this light, the old
way Of settling pastor for life, appeared
far better than the modern fashion of hiring
a popular preacher. Having in vain sought
instruction or entertainment in reading the
names of the unknown dead, we entered the
open portals of the church, which is very
ancient and ornamented with the fine carving
found in Devonshire. There was one quaint
monument to Sir John Sidnum, who died in
1885. In those days such care was taken
to maintain all the lines of social distinction
that even in death there must be perpetual
reminder to the stranger that ''his ladye"
was OF meaner birth than he. There he laid
stone giant clad in armor, with shield and
buckler, crest and every band, ring and seal
OF his regalia, while his low born wife Law
meekly jammed in under his elbow, some six
inches lower than his august majesty, and so
cramped by the wall that hasty tourist
would pass her by unseen. At the foot of
the monument is an upright slab, where the
humble mother is weeping and praying over
the effgies of her three babes in swaddling
bands, who are put in diagonally to econo-
mize space, and look exceedingly uncomfor- |
table and distract sliding down hill on race.
Somewhere we saw one monument where
the honors were on the other side, and the
husband was miniature eflgy at the feet of
his faire ladye, most imposing parsonage
In Westminster there is a triple sarcophagus
for certain lord and his two wives. First
come, first served; the lord naturally placed
the effigy of the wife of his youth on the
right hand, and in the course of time and |
mortality, his was laid beside hers, which so |
the grace and mortified the pride |
of his second wife, whose pedigree was a
few notches higher than her predecessors, |
that she stoutly refused to call honors easy |
by taking the vacant place, but chose rather |
to be cast into oblivion, which has only per- |
petuated the very humiliation she wished to
conceal, sincs each visitor for centuries has |
asked why is this empty lid?
In good time the wears lady returned with |
the keys to open the archives of the church. |
Taking out two sere and stained bundles Of |
parchment, she babe us follow her to the |
study; here the vicar, a victim to sciatica
and rheumatism, was boIstered up to receive |
us. He welcomed us pleasantly, but rather
ouiiiCu az tnc cHbuuoldolu WHICH COulu DTlnB
one on pilgrimage to his hidden sanctum to
waste time in pulling over archaic scrib-
blings, which would ever remain riddles to
him. Having extended to US the courtesies
of hospitality, he settled himself into his
cushions and diverted his tedium with
book, being bound, as custodian (eE oficio) of
the parish archives, not to let them pass out
Of his sight. Here was a dreary task TO |
some, but to one who searches for missing
links in any chain which he would make
the work was fascinating
One monotnnous list after another of chris
Jennings, marriages and death, written in all
the varieties of handwritlngs, from the palest
and daintiest to the most slovenly scratch
Ings, was carefully scanned. until the pages
we're fast slipping through the fingers and