y the help thereof, it is strongly presumed that thieves got
over the same and robbed the said Mr. Ashmole of 32 cocks and hens.'

Easternmost of Surrey in London, Rotherhithe lies about the docks of the
Pool. The Pool should have a book to itself, and will not go into mine;
but of Rotherhithe ashore there is a record which deserves keeping.
Aubrey, or his later editor, gives a list of the Rotherhithe residents
who contributed to the rebuilding of St. Mary's church, and the names,
sorted and classified, should be set aside for a future Dickens. Here
are a few of them:--Bloice, Figgins, Cuthbert Finkle, Gollop, Cronker,
Shadrick Lifter, Walter Mell, Mr. Jeremiah Rosher, Mr. Jonas Shish, Mr.
Nathaniel Stiffon, Mr. Matthias Wallraven, Mr. Scroggs, Mr. Jeffery
Saffery, Mr. Volentine Teed.

Bermondsey, which has kept the Tooley Street of the Three Tailors, but
elsewhere preserves names only instead of stones, has memories of one of
the three Surrey Abbeys. It was founded as a priory for Cluniac monks by
Alwin Child, a citizen of London, in 1082, and it became an Abbey some
three hundred years later. Bermondsey Priory had a church of some note,
for in it was a crucifix which the old chronicles describe vaguely as
having been found near the Thames. The crucifix attracted special
pilgrimages, and when the monasteries were ended, it disappeared. 'There
was the pictor of Saynte Saviour that had stood in Barmsey Abbey many
yeres in Southwarke takyn down,' a diarist writes at the time. All that
remains of the church and crucifix is the name, which has come to St.
Saviour's, or the church of St. Mary Overie--the style now is to call it
Southwark Cathedral. St. Saviour's belongs to London highways, as I have
said, but I may take for Surrey the lines, not already quoted for
London, I think, which are set on the tomb of Richard Humble, Alderman
of London and ancestor of Wards and Dudleys. The tomb has busied many
pens, the verses remain to be read--are they too well known to be
written out again?

Like to the damask rose you see
Or like the blossom on the tree,
Or like the dainty flower of May,
Or like the morning of the day,
Or like the sun or like the shade,
Or like the gourd which Jonas had,

Even so is Man whose thread is spun,
Drawn out and cut, and so is done!

The rose withers, the blossom blasteth,
The flower fades, the morning hasteth,
The sun sets, the shadow flies,
The