In the north transept there stood a long low altar-tomb, with carvings on the sides, and a slab of grey granite on the top. Formerly it had been surrounded and covered by a white marble tabernacle richly carved; this was now broken away and destroyed, except a few fragments in the wall. The tomb itself was dilapidated; the granite slab was broken in two, yet the inscription remained perfectly legible. It was as follows:-- "Hic jacent ROBERTUS WOODROFFE, Armiger, et HILARIS, Uxor Ejus, Qui Robertus obiit Sep. 2, A.D. MCCCCXXXIX." In the right-hand corner of the slab were the arms of the deceased. "This tomb," said the guide, "was erected by the Archbishop, to the memory of his father." On the opposite side of the south transept one of the common Elizabethan monuments was affixed to the wall. It represented figures in relief, and painted. The husband and wife, both in high ruffs, knelt before a desk, face to face. Below them was a procession of boys and girls, six in number. Over their heads was a shield with a coat-of-arms--the same arms as on the other tomb. The monument was sacred to the memory of Robert Woodroffe, Knight, and Johanna his wife. Beneath the figures was a scroll on which the local poet had been allowed to do his worst. "After thy Dethe, thy Words and Works survive To shew thy Virtues: as if still alive. When thou didst fall, fair Mercy shrieked and swoon'd, And Charity bemoaned her deadly Wounde. The Orphan'd Babe, the hapless Widow cry'd, Ah! who will help us now that thou hast dyed?" "They made him a knight," said the guide, "against his will. James the First insisted on his assuming the dignity. It was the only honour ever attained by any of this branch. They all stayed at home, contented to make no noise in the world at all. Well, I think I have shown you all the monuments." "This is my ancestor," said the man with the violin-case, pointing to the first tomb. "Not this one at all." "Why, the elder Robert is my ancestor also!" said the first young man, wondering. "Good gracious! He is my ancestor as well!" cried Hilarie, in amazement. "All these Woodroffes belong to me, and I to them." "Your ancestor? Is it possible?" she added, turning from one to the other. "Is it possible?" the two men repeated. "The Archbishop's elder brother is my direct ancestor," said Hilarie. "He is buried here beneath this stone." "Mine was Lord Mayor Woodroffe," said the first young man. "He was buried in the Church of All Hallows the Less, where his tomb was destroyed in the Fire." "And mine was the Sheriff," said the second young man. "He was buried in St. Helen's, where you may see his tomb to this day."