The two successive Sir Humphreys, their wives, and a stray descendant, sleep where stood a venerable monastic church, on the shores of the Atlantic, in southern Dorset; the unfortunate, headless Earl, lies in Glastonbury's great Abbey in central Somerset; but the record of their graves has perished with them. Not so the memorials that perpetuate the memories of the Archbishop's mother and her famous boy. She received honoured burial, presumably amid her native scenes, and, it may be, among her own kindred, here in this little sanctuary in north Wilts; but her distinguished son found sepulture far away in Kent, in the glorious cathedral, whose throne he filled, and among those whose names are entwined with the greatest traditions of the land, and within the precincts of its most sacred place, near where his canonized predecessor meekly met his death at the hands of savage men, and thenceforward named for all time as "THE TRANSEPT OF THE MARTYRDOM." Stranger, who through these dim sepulchral aisles, Strayest in silence 'mid the mighty dead, Lo, History's tongue here Time's fleet ear beguiles, Great memories rise at every footstep's tread;-- Entombed in peace, repose, life's tumult o'er, Two famous prelates from the distant west, One, Suthwyke's son,--though graven found no more, Hear thou his erstwhile record, and request;-- "_Whose dust concealeth thou, O ponderous stone? Marble declare;--John Stafford was his name;-- In whose seat sat he?--on the Primate's throne, Illustrious there, from Bath with mitred fame:-- For Chief so great, pray, now from life laid down, The Virgin born may grant him golden crown._" [Illustration: BRASS OF SIR JOHN ARUNDELL, ST. COLUMB-MAJOR.] "THEY DID CAST HIM." A pleasantly representative English look has the irregular, disjointed, yet withal eminently picturesque little town of Tisbury, viewed from the acclivity of the railway station. On the one side a group of cottages, and fine trees planted high on the shoulder of the hill, shews well against the distant sky-line, and patches of houses--broken in their midst by the principal hostelry of the place, staringly obtrusive in the most modern brick and white, perched at the top of the straggling street that leads up to it,--carry the eye across to the further fringe of the elevation on the other side, where an ecclesiastical looking edifice, gabled and pinnacled, cuts into the ether and balances the picture.