It is singular that no armorial alliance allusive to his wife appears on the tomb, but only his own family achievement with its proud distinguishment conspicuously displayed, finds place thereon. Yet Blanche Champernowne was an heiress of no mean descent, and richly dowered also, being the representative of the two very antient races of Ferrers and Champernowne, west country names of remote descent, and wide-spread renown, whose property she inherited. The more to be noted also, as he was presumably buried and his monument occurs in the church at Callington, whose manor formed a portion of her possessions. Where Lady Willoughby de Broke was buried does not appear. At Beer-Ferrers the _horse-shoes_ of Ferrers do find position of equal consequence with her husband's, but largely super-imposed with the _rudders_ of Willoughby. Champernowne does not appear in either church, but on her descendant's tomb at Alcester, both Ferrers and Champernowne are carefully marshalled among the elaborate heraldic display. Stay thy foot, friend of mine, a short while, ere thou passest out of the sacred enclosure, and scan yon venerable churchyard cross--how rich is Cornwall in these reminders--slightly leaning, yet hale in the strength of the almost imperishable granite, and with the age-worn imagery of the Great Sacrifice, still plainly discernible, insculped on one of the faces of its pediment. There it was before the honour-bedizened noble--whose tomb we have been just surveying--found his way to Callington to enjoy the portion of his great possessions, situate near it; and who shall say he may not many a time have bowed his head in silent prayer, and crossed himself reverently at the sight of its solemn appeal, when in life he passed in front of it, as he entered the adjoining sanctuary for worship, ere he finally found therein his grave. And here also it is to-day, speaking the same eternal lesson to us, who are seeking to gather back from the woof of the Past, ravelled threads of his memory; and there it will doubtless be found, when we also are merged into the things that were. Such is THE MESSAGE OF THE CROSS. Hoary and worn and frayed,-- Old cross,-- By ruin's hand arrayed, Time's dross:-- What message never stayed, Speaks from thy lips decayed? "Strife of the years is gone, Not me,-- Drooping, bereft, and lone, Here see Pilgrim, by days undone, Heaven's pleading-still, milestone. "Ah! many eyes as thine Have come, Met this old gaze of mine, Then home, Would their glad steps incline, Bearing my tale divine. "Where are they now? O say-- No sound,-- Ask the memorials gray, Around,-- They came again this way, And down beside me lay."