"The church of this parish once stood in a remote and unhealthy place by the river side, but Robert Budshed rebuilt it in a place more convenient, at his own cost; whereof (see the fate!) his own daughter first possessed the place for her burial; and in this church there is a tomb erected to the memory of Tristram Gorges and Elizabeth his wife, daughter of Cole, which about thirty years after his funeral was taken up by occasion of burying another of that tribe in his sepulture; in whose coffin digged up, the carcass was found with the flesh fallen on his ridge-bone like a jelly, there lying all his bones in order, as they that were eye-witnesses have delivered."[52] [52] Robert Budockshed thus spoken of as builder of the present church of St. Budeaux, married Anne daughter of Sir Thomas Pomeroy, knt., and lived three generations before Roger of the monument. Lysons says it was rebuilt in 1563, the era of _Roger_ Budockshed. Tradition records that the former church was at Budockshed. Enow of death and his doings. Now for the lesson of reflection that the lives and aims of the principal characters in this little story of to-day's wandering suggest to us. We take a farewell view from the delightful acclivity on which the church of St. Budeaux is situate, with panorama of the wide-spreading Tamar and its ramifications at our feet, and the great Cornish hills retreating inimitably in the distance beyond;--then slowly retrace our steps down to the river's side at Budockshed, and are soon again afloat, half-drifting, half-sailing, making for our haven at Saltash passage. Another and strange dream of the vicissitudes of human life, finds its fulfilment in the one case over the grave of the imperial exile at rest among the peasantry of the hamlet in the little sanctuary yonder. Driven from his native clime,--bereft of all his kingly traditions,--the splendid empire he may have been born to rule the possession of the barbarian invader,--himself dependant on the bounty of a stranger,--and his royal name extinct,--such was the fate of Paleologus; conditions which instruct us, that the same inexorable law of mutability affects equally a dynasty, whether its residence be in a palace or a cottage. There is no station privileged against the misfortunes that afflict our common mortal conditions.