is insinuation he turned a deaf ear, assuring us that his
family, having lived there so long, must know all about it, and that the
brother of Sir Hans Sloane's gardener had made the great clock in old
Chelsea Church, as the church books could prove. "You can, if you
please," he said, "go under the archway at the side of this house,
leading into the Moravian chapel and burying-ground, where the notice,
that 'within are the Park-chapel Schools,' is put up." And that is quite
true; the Moravians now only use the chapel which was erected in their
burying-ground to perform an occasional funeral service in, and so they
"let it" to the infant school. The burying-ground is very pretty in the
summer time. Its space occupies only a small portion of the chancellor's
garden; part of its walls are very old, and the south one certainly
belonged to Beaufort House. There have been some who trace out a Tudor
arch and one or two Gothic windows as having been filled up with more
modern mason-work: but that may be fancy. There seems no doubt that the
Moravian chapel stands on the site of the old stables.

"Then," we said, "the clock-house could only have been at the entrance
to the offices." The man looked for a moment a little hurt at this
observation, as derogatory to the dignity of his dwelling, but he
smiled, and said. "Perhaps so;" and very good-naturedly showed us the
cemetery of this interesting people. Indeed, their original settlement
in Chelsea is quite a romance. The chapel stands to the left of the
burying-ground, which is entered by a primitive wicket-gate; it forms a
square of thick grass, crossed by broad gravel walks, kept with the
greatest neatness The tombstones are all that, and the graves not
raised above the level of the sward. They are of two sizes only: the
larger for grown persons, the smaller for children. The inscriptions on
the grave-stones, in general, seldom record more than the names and ages
of the persons interred. The men are buried in one division, the women
in another. We read one or two of the names, and they were quaint and
strange: "Anne Rypheria Hurloch;" "Anna Benigna La Trobe;" and one was
especially interesting, James Gillray, forty years sexton to this simple
cemetery, and father of Gillray, the H. B. of the past century. One
thing pleased us mightily, the extreme old age to which the dwellers in
this house seemed to have attained.

A line of ancient trees runs along the back of the narrow gardens