The special incident referred to in Tettersell’s life is recorded in another part of this book. One of the most remarkable tombs was that of the Rev. John Bolt, the vicar of Brighton, who died on the 2nd of November, 1669. It stood at the north-east corner of the Chancel. Not a vestige of the tomb now remains. The main structure of it was brick, and the covering stone was a slab of perriwinkle or Sussex marble: and so great a curiosity was it that it was in no way deemed a sacrilege by the casual passer-by, to knock off a piece with a flint, or even a hammer, for its novelty’s sake. Its final demolition took place in 1853, when that and other sacred depositories of the dead—and the remains of the dead too,—were ruthlessly removed to enlarge the church, upon its then restoration. The slab bore the following inscription:—

Here lies interred the body of Mr. John Bolt, Master of Arts of Christ College, in Cambridge, aged seventy-eight years, who was a faithful and laborious preacher of the Gospel for the space of fifty-six years; whom God had blessed with twenty-nine children by two wives. He died in full assurance of a glorious resurrection, on the 2nd day of November, 1669, and was buried the 7th, likewise of the same month; in the pious memory of whom, his sorrowful son, Daniel Bolt, hath erected this monument.

Stay, passenger, and lett thoughts awhile;
Contemplate Death; Sin curse, which doth beguile
Us of our best enjoyments, and impair
Whatever unto most men pleasant are.
’Tis not thy learning nor thy piety
That can secure thee from Death’s tyranny.
Witness this learned, pious man of God,
Who fell a victim to his conquering rod.
Nothing but Virtue can outlive our date
That gives a being beyond mortal fate.

Vivit post funera virtus.

The most quaint epitaph was on a slab in the floor just within the Chancel door. It was nearly obliterated some years since; but shortly after the present Vicar came to the living, he had it fresh cut. It, however, with many other relics, was destroyed during the restoration before mentioned. It was:—

Oh! dear mother, you are gone before,
And I, a wratch, wait at the door:
Sin doth not only keep me thence,
But makes me loath to go from hence.
When Christ hath healed me of my sin,
He’ll make me fit and let me in.

Perhaps the most affecting record of the uncertainty of life, is that on the tomb of Robert Augustus Bedford. It is in what is termed the old ground, not far from the poplar tree which marks the spot where once was a well. This well and a wall which went direct north to Church Street, formed the west boundary of a garden that was consecrated as an additional piece of ground for burial, in January, 1818, by the Bishop of Exeter, and about that spot was appropriated for the burial of paupers, and likewise for soldiers; as at that time the Hospital of the Infantry Barracks occupied the site of the present Hanover Chapel burial ground. The inscription—now mostly obliterated,—is as follows:—

This youth, while viewing amidst a large concourse of persons assembled on the Pier Head of this town, on the 17th day of July, 1826, some trials designed to show the practibility of conveying the means of escape to ship-wrecked persons by means of a chain attached to a ball; from which, on one of the experiments, it separated on the discharge of the cannon, and instantaneously deprived him of his life, in the 10th year of his age.

The experiment which was being made was that known as Captain Manby’s apparatus for rescuing persons from shipwreck.

On the 20th November, 1819, the funeral of a Sergeant of the 90th foot took place. He was shot on the 17th of the same month, at the barracks, in Church street, by a private of the regiment, who, for the offence, was executed at Horsham.

The well here just alluded to, north of the wall which forms the northern boundary of Queen Square, was, on the restoration of the church, in 1853, filled up with decayed coffins and the mortal remains of those whose bodies were disinterred immediately to the north of the sacred edifice, to afford space and improve the effect of the building. Amongst those whose narrow cell was less violated, was that of Sir Richard Phillips, the natural philosopher, and author of “A Million of Facts.” His vault and tomb were reconstructed just within the south entrance to the cemetery ground, in front of Clifton Terrace, whither his remains were removed, and where they now rest. Not far from this tomb lie the remains of Mrs. Pickstock, the headstone to whose grave is thus inscribed:—

In testimony of the
Faithful and zealous
Services of Alice Pickstock.
Matron of the Brighton
Workhouse, and to
perpetuate the recollection of her
many benevolent and pious
offices to the sick and poor of this
Parish,

This stone is erected by the Directors
and Guardians and others, in the year of
Our Lord MDCCCXLIII.

“I bowed down heavily as one that
mourneth for his mother.”—Psalm xxxv., 14 v.