BURIAL-GROUNDS 257 



a corner of crowded Fenchurch Street, comes this 

 retired shade. The church, with its old high pews, 

 and tiny graveyard, devoid of monuments, is a peaceful 

 oasis. These surprises in the densest parts of the 

 City are very refreshing, and they are too numerous 

 to mention each individually. Most of them now are 

 neatly kept, though some look dreary enough. None 

 of them recall the neglect of half a century ago. 

 St. Olave's, Hart Street, in Seething Lane, is perhaps 

 among the most gloomy. It is the church Pepys 

 speaks of so often as " our owne church," and was 

 one of the churches that escaped the Fire. The arch- 

 way with the skulls over it, leads from Seething Lane 

 to the dismal-looking churchyard. Nothing is done 

 to alter or brighten this place of many memories. 

 One shudders to think of what it must have been like 

 when Pepys crossed it for the first time after the 

 Great Plague, when he went to the memorial service 

 for King Charles I., on 30th January 1666. No 

 wonder he says it *' frighted me indeed to go through 

 the church more than I thought it could have done, 

 to see so many graves lie so high upon the church- 

 yard, where people have been buried of the Plague. 

 I was much troubled about it, and do not think to 

 go through it again a good while." The parish 

 registers show that no less than 326 were interred in this 

 very small place, during the previous six months, so 

 Pepys' feelings were well justified. The old church 

 has a special interest to lovers of gardens, as in it is 

 the tomb of William Turner, the author of the first 

 English Herbal. 



In more than one City churchyard a portion of 

 the old wall makes its appearance. There is St. 



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