A strange commentary on the truthfulness of epitaphs is the account of that late lamented given by his contemporary Oglander, declaring him the knavish son of a French refugee, whose father, Pierre Garde, had been executed for treason in his own country. An extract on this head makes a good specimen of Sir John’s random jottings, that open such curious peeps into the state of his native Island at that date. One takes the liberty of correcting his spelling; but the style seems past mending. Richard, the father, was a notable sly fellow, dishonest and given to filching; he brought some tricks out of France with him. _Vide_--he would steal a cow, and putting a loaf of bread hot out of the oven on her horns, make her horns so supple that they would turn any way he pleased, so as to disfigure the beast that the owner might not know her again. Many other shifts he had, being a man of no great conscience, by which means he recovered some wealth, and died. His sons, Richard and Peter, did not degenerate; Richard was as crafty a knave as any (except his brother) in a whole country; he was good at reading and understanding of old evidences, whereby he got many into his hands, and so forced the owners to a composition. He was indifferently skilled in law, a most penurious base fellow, and of little religion; he died about 1616, and in his will gave Richard, the eldest son of Peter, the better part of his estate, having no children of his [Illustration: GODSHILL] own. He willed his body to be coffined in lead, and to be laid but 2 foot deep in the earth, in the porch of Godshill Church, as unwilling that too much earth should hinder him from rising at the resurrection; where we will leave him, to speak of Peter, the second brother, and son of Richard the Bandit.