In the little street of Antony is a library of the most rudimentary type, a little reading-room supported by small subscriptions, and supplied with a few weekly and daily newspapers. We turned the door-handle and walked into this room of 10 × 7 feet; but, alas! there instantly came across the road a woman in whom (evidently) was invested the care of the place, who informed us that this was not a public reading-room, and who held the door open in the most suggestive way. We went. “I’m sorry,” observed the Wreck upon going, “that we have intruded: I hope we have not injured your shanty.” “No harm done,” replied the janitress, who was plainly acting upon a painful sense of duty. We adjourned to the church, and after ascending the many steps leading to it, sat down to argue the matter in the porch. “See,” said the Wreck bitterly, “how despitefully one is used when tramping about on a walking-tour and carrying these abominable things,” and he unstrapped his knapsack with a vicious tug. “That woman ... took us for tramps, and that sort of thing hurts one’s _amour propre_.” “Very correct estimate, too,” said I, flicking the dust off my boots with my handkerchief, “and one unlikely to tax her powers of discernment to an inconvenient extent.” “’Been swallowing a dictionary lately?” inquired the Wreck with biting sarcasm. “No, Ollendorff, that is not my method.” And then relations became strained. LI. So it fell out that I explored Antony church alone. A fair specimen this of Perpendicular architecture, crowded with monuments to the Carews of Antony, among them, one to the memory of the author of the “Survey of Cornwall.” Part of the inscription in Latin is by his friend Camden; the English verses are his own. “The verses following were written by Richard Carew of Antony Esq. immediately before his death (which happened the Sixth of November 1620) as he was at his private prayers in his Study (his daily practice) at fower in the afternoon and being found in his Pocket were presented by his Grandsonne S^r Alexander Carew, according to whose desire they are here set up. In Memory of him. “Full thirteen fiues of years I toyling haue o’repast And in the fowerteenth weary, entred am at last While Rocks, Sands, Stormes & leaks, to take my bark away By greif, troubles, sorrows, sickness, did essay And yet arriv’d I am not at the port of death, The port to euerlasting Life that openeth, My time uncertain Lord, long certain cannot be What’s best, to mee’s unknown; & only known to thee. O by repentance & amendment grant that I May still liue in thy fear & in thy favour dye.” There remains in the chancel a handsome perpendicular brass for the foundress of this church: “Margeria Arundell quonda dna de Est Anton filia Warini Erchedeken militis.”