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HANNAH MORE.
absent, being still in London. When Sally and Patty visited Cheddar, on Sunday, they found Mrs. Baker very ill: she died ten days later, and her funeral was most remarkable. Patty writes to Hannah:—
Who else has ever been so attended, so followed to the grave? Of the hundreds who attended, all had some token of mourning in their dress. All the black gowns in the village were exhibited, and those who had none had, some broad, some little bits of narrow ribbon such as their few spare pence could provide. The house, the garden, the place before the door was full. But how shall I describe it? Not one single voice or step was heard; their very silence was dreadful. But it was not the least affecting part to see their poor little ragged pocket-handkerchiefs, not half sufficient to dry their tears. Some had none, and the tears that did not fall to the ground they wiped off with some part of their dress. When the procession moved off, Mr. Boake, who was so good as to come to the very house, preceded the corpse with his gown and hat-band, which, being unusual, added somewhat to the scene, then the body, then her sister and myself as chief mourners—a presumptuous title amidst such a weeping multitude—then the gentry two and two, next her children, near two hundred, then all the parish in the same order, and, though the stones were rugged, you did not hear one single foot-step.
