As already said in an earlier chapter, the parish church of Peter Tavy has gone through that process which is facetiously termed "restoration," on the principle of the derivation of Lucus à non lucendo; restoration meaning, in ninety-nine out of a hundred cases the utter destruction of every element of interest and loveliness in an ancient church. Among the objects on which one of those West of England wreckers, the architects, exhibit their destructive energies are the tombstones.
Now, in Peter Tavy Church, previous to its restoration, there were—in the interest of my story—two tombstones, fortunately transcribed before the wrecker began his work.
Here is one, cut on a slate slab let into the floor:—
"To the Memory of
ANTHONY CLEVERDON, Gent.,
[Then a pair of clasped right hands]
and URITH, his Wife,
Daughter and Heiress of
RICHARD MALVINE, of Willsworthy, Gent."
Under this stone the corps of them abide
What lived and tenderly did love, and dyed.
Wedlock and Death had with the Grave agreed
To make for them an everlasting marriage bed,
Where in repose their mixed dust might lye.