The graves are overgrown with grass; the gray tombstones,
some of them nearly sunk into the earth, are half covered with moss,
which has likewise tinted the reverend old building. Small birds
have built their nests among the cornices and fissures of the walls,
and keep up a continual flutter and chirping; and rooks are sailing
and cawing about its lofty gray spire.
In the course of my rambles I met with the gray-headed sexton,
Edmonds, and accompanied him home to get the key of the church. He had
lived in Stratford, man and boy, for eighty years, and seemed still to
consider himself a vigorous man, with the trivial exception that he
had nearly lost the use of his legs for a few years past. His dwelling
was a cottage, looking out upon the Avon and its bordering meadows;
and was a picture of that neatness, order, and comfort, which
pervade the humblest dwellings in this country. A low whitewashed
room, with a stone floor carefully scrubbed, served for parlor,
kitchen, and hall. Rows of pewter and earthen dishes glittered along
the dresser. On an old oaken table, well rubbed and polished, lay
the family Bible and prayer-book, and the drawer contained the
family library, composed of about half a score of well-thumbed
volumes.
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