100 THE FLORIST. 



THE LATE CHARLES FOX, ESQ. 



OUR VISIT TO HIS BIRTIIPLACF;, &C. 



In our April Number of last year we announced to our readers the 

 decease of our valued friend and coadjutor, of the loss of whom we 

 are continually reminded at every turn. We miss him as a most 

 able assistant, upon whose judgment we had been taught to rely by 

 a long experience of his ability and integrity, who shared our labours 

 in the attempt to establish the Florist and Garden Miscellany, and 

 with whom we should have rejoiced indeed had he lived to share 

 our feelings of congratulation on seeing our little work in so flourish- 

 ing a condition. 



But his decease, brightened as it was by the consolations of 

 Christian belief, has left us nothing to regret upon his account ; and 

 much as we miss and long for him, we can say with the poet Cowper, 



" But, no — what here we call our life is such, 

 So little to be loved, and thou so much, 

 That ive should ill requite thee to constrain 

 Thy unbound spirit into bonds again." 



Nor are we singular in this regard for the memory of our departed 

 friend ; and we embrace the opportunity of giving the subscribers a 

 copy of the inscription placed upon the stone which marks the spot 

 in Brompton Cemetery, where, by his express wish, his remains were 

 interred. 



*• 'a f^an greatlg ficlobeti." 



HERE LIE THE REMAINS OF 



CHARLES FOX, Esq., Artist, 



LONG RESIDENT IN THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD, 



BORN AT COSSEY IN NORFOLK, MAY 17, 1795; 



DIED AT LEYTON IN ESSEX, FEBRUARY 28, 1849. 



A LARGE CIRCLE OF ACQUAINTANCE AND FRIENDS, MANY OF THEM 

 IN HUMBLE LIFE, UNITEDLY AND BY SMALL SUBSCRIPTIONS 



ERECT THIS STONE 

 AS THEIR LAST ACT OF SINCERE RESPECT AND AFFECTION. 



In his lifetime we had often planned together a visit to Cossey 

 Park near Norwich, where he was born, his father having been 

 the respected steward of the Jerningham family ; but it was never 

 carried into execution, and with his decease the idea was, of course, 

 abandoned. But since that event, we were led into Norfolk by the 

 removal from this hfe of another valued friend ; and on the after- 

 noon of a fine day in June we reached the neighbourhood of the 

 place to which we were bound. Our walk from the railway-station 

 was through a flat, unimdting country, speaking of it as a rural dis- 

 trict; but with our varied associations it was deeply interesting. 

 The stillness, after the bustle and noise of the great metropolis, was 



