“Agreed on Easter Monday, March the 31st day, 1755, by us whose names are hereunto subscribed, being the Parishioners then present at the Vestry then held. That only five persons shall, and are by the authority of the said Vestry allowed to ring the Bells of this Parish for the future, and that they shall ring only on such public days as the Parishioners shall from time to time agree to and approve of, and that the said five persons that shall undertake to Ring shall be obliged likewise to chime the Bells on every Sunday in the forenoon and the afternoon, at the proper season for Divine Service, and that they shall be obliged to give their due and regular attendance, both in the fore and afternoon of every Sunday upon the Service of the church, and that they be at Liberty to ring for George Treby, Esq., and the other Gentlemen belonging to the Corporation, as often as the said Gentlemen shall signify it to be their pleasure to have the Bells rung, and that the said Ringers are never to ring after _Eight_ of the clock in the Evening, or before Seven in the morning.” “The Ringers are never to ring after Eight.” Thus are old customs and traditions handed down from age to age. “The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day.” ----- Speaking of cards reminds me that in the same street with the Guildhall are some curious old slated fronts, in which the slates have been cut in the shape of clubs, spades, hearts, and diamonds. Under these fronts we have also the covered way. We now come to a building a little to the south-east of the church, around which so many treasured associations cluster, that we hardly know whether we have yet said adieu to the sacred edifices of Plympton. The old Grammar School is the most venerable and interesting school of art in all England. Here the greatest English painter—a man for “all time”—learnt the first principles of drawing. The house in which he was born overlooks his schoolroom and his playground. Here, too, Northcote, his clever and eccentric pupil, acquired his, perhaps not very classic, education. This, also, was the first school of the late distinguished President of the Royal Academy, Sir Charles Eastlake, and the _Alma Mater_ of poor Benjamin Haydon. A mournful interest, indeed, attaches to the building as connected with the last-mentioned name. The year before he died Haydon visited the old Grammar School, and wrote his name in pencil on the wall, where you may still see it:— B. R. Haydon, Historical Painter, London, Educated here 1801. Rev. W. Haines (Master). Head Boy then. This was only a few months before a dark and impenetrable cloud shrouded the clear intellect of this gifted man, and his life—so useful, but so ill-requited—closed in saddest gloom.