On the floor are several ancient stones bearing crosses, no doubt denoting the interment of some of the masters of the old hospital of St. Giles.
A spacious cemetery surrounds the building, where the contemplative mind,
“Free from noise and riot rude,”
may resort, and, unmolested by the vulgar gaze of unsympathizing intruders, pour the grateful tribute of a sigh, or embalm afresh the memory of that departed spirit with whom he once took generous and undesigning counsel; and renew in imagination, through time’s dim mist, hours consecrated to friendship.
In this silent repository are gravestones 200 years old, many inhabitants of the town having selected it as their last resting place, from a feeling similar to that inscribed upon a tomb in the south-west corner of the church-yard:
Ut Nemini noceret Mortuus,
Qui Unicuique pro re nata succurrere voluit Vivus,
Hic extra Urbem sese contumulandum præcipiebat,
CHENEY HART, M.D.
Warringtoni in agro Lancastriensi natus Nov. 17–28, 1726.
A stone near the south window covers the remains of John Whitfield, surgeon, on which is recorded an epitaph, the very quintessence of chemical brevity—
I. W.
COMPOSITA SOLVANTUR.
Opposite the south door is the socket of an ancient stone cross, the upper portion of which supports a font in the Abbey church.
From hence likewise is an extensive view of the town, with the different churches displayed to much picturesque advantage, the vale below being watered by the meanderings of the Rea brook; while the more distant prospect, chequered with mountains and woody knolls, verdant pastures and rural habitations, presents a striking picture of