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Wanderings in Wessex - An Exploration of the Southern Realm from Itchen to Otter by Edric Holmes
page 38 of 340 (11%)
Proceeding up the fertile valley of the Test, Stockbridge is reached
in another three miles. This sleepy old country town and one-time
parliamentary borough occasionally wakes up when sheep fairs and other
rural gatherings take place in its spacious High Street, but on other
days it is the very ideal of a somnolent agricultural centre; it is,
therefore, a pleasant headquarters from which to explore the
north-western part of the county. The long line of picturesque roofs
and broken house-fronts, in all the mellow tints that age alone can
give, makes as goodly a picture as any in Hampshire. On the right-hand
side, going down the street, is the Grosvenor Inn with its projecting
porch. Next door is the old Market House and across the way stands the
turreted Town Hall.

Alone in a quiet graveyard at the upper end of the town is the chancel
of old St. Peter's church, now used as the chapel of the burying
ground. Most of the removable items were taken to the new church
erected in High Street in 1863, including certain fine windows and the
Norman font of Purbeck marble. In a neglected corner of the old
churchyard is the tombstone of John Bucket, one-time landlord of the
"King's Head" in Stockbridge. It bears the following oft-quoted
epitaph:

And is, alas! poor Bucket gone?
Farewell, convivial honest John.
Oft at the well, by fatal stroke
Buckets like pitchers must be broke.
In this same motley shifting scene,
How various have thy fortunes been.
Now lifting high, now sinking low,
To-day the brim would overflow.
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