XVII

MILTON

Having thus disposed of this company of scribbling foreigners, I will get on to Milton-next-Gravesend, which immediately adjoins the town; especially will I do so because, when the old waterside lanes have been explored, little remains to see besides Gordon’s statue and the little cottage where he used to live. The high-road is not at all interesting, unless indeed a Jubilee clock-tower and a number of private houses of the Regent’s Park order of architecture may be considered to lend a charm to it. Just beyond these houses comes Milton: a school, a church, and a public-house standing next one another. The church belongs to the Decorated period, and has a tower built of flints, stone, and chalk. During the last century the churchwardens had the repairing of the nave roof under consideration, and, in order to save twenty pounds on an estimate, they decided to remove the battlements, and to have a slated roof, spanning nave and aisles, and ending in eaves. The thing was done, against the wish of the Vicar and with the approval of the then Bishop of Rochester, and all who pass this way can see how barbarous was the deed. It had not even the merit of economy, for, by the time the work was completed, it had cost the churchwardens several hundreds of pounds more than had been anticipated.

“Trifle not, your time’s but short,” says a very elaborate and complicated sundial over the south porch, looking down upon the road; and, taking the hint, we will proceed at once from Milton Church to the public-house next door. But not for carnal joys; oh no! Only in the interests of this book will we make such a sudden diversion; for, at the rear of the house, on the old bowling-green, is an interesting memorial of one of the jolly fellows who once upon a time gathered here on summer evenings and played a game of bowls when business in the neighbouring town of Gravesend was done for the day.

TO THE MEMORY

Of Mr. Alderman Nynn,

An honeft Man, and an Excellent Bowler.

Cuique est sua Fama.

Full forty long Years was the Alderman feen,
The delight of each Bowler, and King of this Greene.
As long he remember’d his Art and his Name,
Whofe hand was unerring, unrival’d whofe Fame.
His Bias was good, and he always was found
To go the right way and to take enough ground.
The Jack to the uttermoft verge he would fend
For the Alderman lov’d a full length at each End.
Now mourn ev’ry Eye that hath feen him difplay
The Arts of the Game, and the Wiles of his play;
For the great Bowler, Death, at one critical Cast
Has ended his length, and clofe rubb’d him at laft.

F. W. pofuit, MDCCLXXVI.