In conclusion: we think you may be pleased to hear something of your last earthly resting-place in the burying-ground belonging to St. George’s, Hanover Square. We made a pilgrimage to it but a few Sundays ago. Though your grave was neglected until the exact spot is no longer known, the stone, since raised near the place, is so often visited that, though it stands far from the path, a way to it has been worn in the grass by the feet of the many, who have come to breathe a sigh or drop a tear for poor Yorick. We scarce know if it will be any comfort to you in your present life, to learn that this cemetery is a quiet, restful enclosure, near as it is to the carriages and ’busses about Marble Arch and the Socialist and Salvationist gatherings in Hyde Park. In the spring it is pretty as well, laburnums shading the doorway of the little chapel, through which one can see from the street the grey gravestones that dot the grass, and seem no less peaceful than the sheep in the broad fields of the park opposite.
We have the honour to be, dear Sir, your most obedient and most devoted and most humble servants,
JOSEPH PENNELL.
ELIZABETH ROBINS PENNELL.
CONTENTS.
OUR
SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY,
&c. &c.
—“THE roads,” said I, “are better in France.”