said the rhyme, as I remembered: and, behold! a fair monument against the north wall of the chancel (where I began) carried the royal coat of England and France with a label, impaling the ground _or_ and engrailed cross _sable_ of the Mohuns--this for a Philippa of their house that married with Edward, Duke of York, slain at Agincourt: and, beside it, Courtenay's three torteaux and FitzWilliam's three bendlets, Bevill and Brewer, Strange and Redvers, a coat _vert_ with three bucks' heads having their antlers depressed (which I took for Hayre), and another coat to set an antiquary thinking, for it bore _azure_ a bend _or_, with a label of three points _gules_. "Scrope or Grosvenor," said I to myself, looking up from my work towards the East windows, where the same scutcheon was repeated. "I wonder which claims you in these parts." The shield that bore this famous device had it quartered on the sinister side with Courtenay and Redvers; and impaling these on the dexter side were, quarterly: (1) A space patched with clear glass (originally Mohun, no doubt); (2) _Vert_ three stags' heads _or_ (?Hayre); (3) _azure_ three bendlets _or_ (FitzWilliam); (4) a device which again puzzled me. It seemed to be an arm habited in a maunch, or sleeve, _ermine_, holding in the hand a golden flower. Now while I painted, an old man had been moving about the far end of the church, whom I took for the sexton. I had passed him in the churchyard outside, when he was scything down the grass upon a grave; and had noted no more of his back than that he wore the clothes of a hind with a scrap of sacking over his shoulders--nor perhaps would have noted so much as this, had not his clothing seemed over-warm for the time of year. But now, while I stood conning the coats in the East window, he drew towards me and spoke, stretching forward a hand timidly, almost touching my elbow. "Sir," said he, and his voice and face bore instant witness together of gentle birth, "I am gladly at your service if anything there perplex you." With that he nodded towards the coats-of-arms. In a trice I had recovered myself. "Then you, too, have a taste for such trifles?" answered I. "We are well met, Sir." He shook his head, avoiding my look. You might have called his a noble face, but more than anything else it was patient. "I belong to these parts," said he; "and would ask a stranger to use my small knowledge: but, for myself, all such things may pass with me into oblivion, and I say 'Amen.'" Said I then, "Maybe you can tell me of that coat in the fourth quarter dexter--the hand grasping a gold fleur-de-lys."