John Dyer, born 1700, was a much more reputable person. He was educated at Westminster; began life as an itinerant artist, with a keen eye to the beauties of nature, when that taste was little cultivated. He was appointed to the rectory by Sir John Heathcote in 1752, and in 1755 to Kirkby-on-Bain, for which he exchanged Belchford, where he had formerly been. He was the author of “Grongar Hill,” “The Fleece,” and “The Ruins of Rome.” He was honoured with a sonnet by Wordsworth; but his longer poems are somewhat wearisome reading. The place-names in this parish indicate the condition of woodland and waste which formerly prevailed. Immediately south of the church and its surroundings we find the “Ings,” or meadows, the Saxon term which we have noticed in several other parishes. Further off, we have “Oaklands” farm, and “Scrub-hill,” “scrub” being an old Lincolnshire word for a small wood; as we have, in the neighbourhood, ‘Edlington Scrubs’ and ‘Roughton Scrubs.’ “Reedham,” another name, indicates a waste of morass. “Toot-hill” might be a raised ground from which a watch, or look-out, was kept, in troublous times; and Dr. Oliver says, in his “Religious Houses,” Appendix, p. 166, “‘Taut’ is a place of observation; ‘Touter’ is a watcher in hiding;” but it is more likely to be from the Saxon “tot,” an eminence (“totian,” to rise), in which case the second syllable, “hill,” is only a later translation of the first. However, Toot-hill, Tothill, or Tooter’s hill, are not uncommon in other parts, and are said to have been connected with the heathen worship of Taith. Langworth Grange, in this parish, would probably be (as elsewhere) a corruption of Langwath, the long ford over some of the fenny stretches of water. The most peculiar place-name is “Troy-wood.” It is possible that, as at Horncastle, this may have been a place where the youths gathered to play the old game of “Troy town”; but is more likely of British origin, a remnant of the Fenland Grirvii. Troy Town is a hamlet near Dorchester, but there are several spots in Wales named Caer-troi, which means a bending, or tortuous town, a labyrinth, such as the Britons made with banks of turf. We have now about done with Coningsby. We are welcome to enter the rectory, where we notice the large arch, already referred to, of the former refectory. Other objects of interest may be shewn us by the Rector, but we turn to the western window of the drawing-room to gaze upon a sight unparalleled. Not a mile away there rises up before us the stately structure of Tattershall Castle, “the finest piece of brickwork in the kingdom”; and, close by, beneath, as it were, its sheltering wing, the collegiate church, almost, in its way, as grand an object. _L’appetit vient en mangeant_; and, as we devour the prospect, we hunger and thirst for a closer acquaintance with their attractions.