Its beautiful avenue, rendered still more pleasant in spring, summer, and autumn, by the lofty row of lime-trees which separates it from the space appropriated to the tenements of the dead, might be made still more impressive in character, were a neat lattice-work constructed, extending from tree to tree, to mark the line of demarcation between the avenue and church-yard more distinctly. A sketch of the Avenue, with the Alcove at the west end, is here given, as well as the florid, chastely-designed Gate leading to it from Church-Street. This gate was put up in 1738, at the expence of the parish. Country churchyards are always deeply interesting to the contemplative and thoughtful; and Gray’s truthful and pathetic Elegy, which appeals so powerfully to the best feelings of our nature, has invested them, however rude and humble, with an affecting character that touches the hearts even of the most indifferent. Oswestry Church-Yard, with its aged elms of more than a century’s growth; its sombre yews; its stately tombs and humble graves for patrician and plebeian dust, “the rich and the poor meeting together,” is a scene conveying monitory lessons to all who will seriously read them. Among the tombs are several, bearing appropriate inscriptions, containing the ashes of French prisoners of war, who died in Oswestry on their parole, between the years 1811 and 1814. The ancient entrance to the Church-yard from Upper Brook-Street, through the GRIDDLE GATE, is a curious relic of byegone times. Formerly, on occasions of burial from the south side of the town, the coffin of a deceased party was placed temporarily on a bier within the porch of the Griddle Gate, and thence conveyed to the church. It will be seen from the engraving we give of this Gate that it was erected in 1631. [Picture: The Griddle Gate] We may here state that the elm-trees in the church-yard were planted at the expense of the Rev. Thomas Owen, when Vicar of the Parish, between the years 1707 and 1713. Monuments and Tablets within the Church. How valuable are Monumental Inscriptions, when they are the records of truth, and affectionate tributes to departed worth! The tablets on our church walls are silent, but often effective monitors, reviving drooping spirits, recalling scenes of sublunary enjoyments, transient as the stay of the dew-drop in the sun, and suggesting the brevity and uncertainty of human existence. Within Oswestry Church, as well as in its grave-yard, most of the Monuments and Inscriptions are simple, chaste, and impressive. They either plainly mark the spot where lies the departed body, or touchingly express the natural grief of surviving relatives or friends. Whilst wandering among the habitations of the dead, and viewing, with “slow and solemn steps,” the houses, for rich and poor, “appointed for all men living,” we can sympathize with Salopia’s own sweet poet, in his beautiful apostrophe: