Rowland Lester,
Obiit 1760, aet. 64.
Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.

By that tomb the traveller remained in undisturbed contemplation for some
time, and when he turned, all the swarthy colour had died from his cheek,
his eyes were dim, and the wonted pride of a young man's step and a
soldier's bearing, was gone from his mien.

As he looked up, his eye caught afar, embedded among the soft verdure of
the spring, one lone and grey house, from whose chimney there rose no
smoke--sad, inhospitable, dismantled as that beside which he now stood;--
as if the curse which had fallen on the inmates of either mansion, still
clung to either roof. One hasty glance only, the traveller gave to the
solitary and distant abode,--and then started and quickened his pace.

On re-entering the stables, the traveller found the Corporal examining
his horse from head to foot with great care and scrupulosity.

"Good hoofs too, humph!" quoth the Corporal, as he released the front
leg; and, turning round, saw, with some little confusion, the owner of
the steed he had been honouring with so minute a survey. "Oh,--augh!
looking at the beastie, Sir, lest it might have cast a shoe. Thought your
honour might want some intelligent person to shew you the premises, if so
be you have come to buy; nothing but an old 'oman there; dare say your
honour does not like old 'omen--augh!"

"The owner is not in these parts?" said the horseman.