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 L, 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. 
R 
