described this memorial, now utterly destroyed:—“In the north walle of the chancell is a faire marble tombe with the portraiture of a dead man lying upon his shroud the most artificiaily cut in stone that ever man beheld. All the plates of brass are stolne away only some few peeses remaining containing these words:—
“Hospitalitate inclytus genera prclarus.
(Here are Arms.)
Hanc urna officii causa.”
In the centre, on another plate, in old English characters, was:—
“Spes me non fallat quam in te semper habebam,
Virgo da fadilem votis natum.”
And on another:—
“Ecce quem cernis semper tuo nomini devotum
Suspice in sinum Virgo Maria tuum.”
In 1788, when the old church of St. James was pulled down, this monument was taken away. “During the removal,” says a contemporary writer, “the lead coffin was discovered, which was deposited within a few inches of the surface. On the breast part was a cross raised in lead. On raising the cover, the skeleton appeared, but without any appearance of its having been wrapped in cere cloth, or habit of his Order, nor did it seem at first that ever any embalmment had been used; but, on more careful inspection, there was found a quantity of dark-coloured mucilaginous substance between the thighs and the lower parts of the body, of an unctuous feel, but quite inodorous. The bones were laid in the same order as when the corpse was deposited in the lead coffin, which did not appear had ever been enclosed in one of wood. The fingers and toes were fallen off, but the other parts retained their proper situation, and some teeth remained in each jaw. On measuring the skeleton it was exactly six feet in length, wanting one inch.” When the monument was removed, the effigy was left, and for many years stood upright in a corner of the vault below the church. It has, however, recently been restored by a descendant
