IN SOMERSET 273 



my back, that I could have said kind words of 

 a Black Country spoil bank, or Barking Creek. 

 I admit that I might overdo Burnham's recom- 

 mendations, but the merit is great. 



I did not get there all at once, though I fared 

 well and might have been through earlier if I 

 pleased. Starting from Waterloo for a point on 

 the Bristol Channel seemed to me a queer cut. 

 However, it proved a most excellent way of 

 reaching North Somerset from London, and to 

 me had the advantage of making certain calls en 

 route handy. For one thing, I wanted to take 

 down some ages from a tombstone in Temple- 

 combe Churchyard, where is record of a fine 

 staying family. That object I accomplished in 

 hope of the memorandum proving of interest to 

 Refereaders. From the stone, which is, I think, 

 a slate, you find that a couple — Rufus a' Barrow 

 and his wife, Betsy a' Barrow — were interred 

 there, and six of their children. Here Is the 

 great record. Rufus a' Barrow, senior, seventy- 

 five years of age ; Dame Betsy, eighty-nine. 

 First to go of the next generation was Rufus the 

 second, aged fifty-four ; next one, R. Goddard a' 

 Barrow, sixty- two ; followed by Henry, who 

 stopped only one chalk short of the eighty his 

 brother Anthony reached. Last but one went 

 Betsy, who lived a year longer than her mother, 

 and saw her ninety years ; while Christian (or 

 Kitty) — was this a son or a daughter? Kit is 

 short for the male Christian — left at ninety-four. 

 Properly advertised facts like these ought to send 

 up the value of building land at Templecombe. 



Glastonbury has long been marked by me as a 

 centre for exploring operations, which never have 

 materialised to my satisfaction. Still, I managed 



