espousals or marriages hang." Now
it seemed to this inquisitive individual that a very trivial error of the
transcriber might have entirely altered the sense of the passage; that if
the word "maritagia" should turn out to be "manut'gia" for "manutergia,"
all the mystery would be explained. Upon inquiry, and inspection of the
original manuscript, this proved a correct surmise on the part of the
ingenious as well as inquisitive individual, and the arches in which the
(manutergia) _towels_ hang, _close by the lavatories_, turn out to be the
substitute for the arches in which the _espousals hang_. Overlooking the
single stroke of a pen, produced these queer misconceptions _for above a
century_.

The following is an epitaph composed for Jacob Freeman, who was buried in
the cloister yard, where he used often to lie upon a hill and sleep, with
his head upon a stone. The old man was very hardly used by the
_committee_ for so doing, and for frequenting church porches, and
repeating the _common_ prayer to the people, in spite of ill treatment,
he being often sent to Bridewell, whipped and reproved for it.

EPITAPH.

"Here, in this homely cabinet,
Resteth a poor old anchoret;
Upon the ground he laid all weathers,
Not as most men, goose-like, on feathers,
For so indeed it came to pass,
The Lord of lords his landlord was;
He lived, instead of wainscot rooms,
Like the possessed, among the tombs.
As by some spirit thither led,
To be acquainted with the dead:
Each morning, from his bed so hallowed,
He rose, took up his cross, and followed;
To every porch he did repair,
To vent himself in common prayer,
Wherein he was alone devout,
When _preaching_, _jostled_, _praying out_,
In sad procession through the city,
Maugre the devil or committee,
He daily went, for which he fell
Not into _Jacob's_, but _Bridewell_,
Where you might see his loyal back
Red-lettered, like an almanack;
Or I may rather else aver,
Dominickt, like a calendar;
And him triumphing at that harm,
Having nought else to keep him warm.
With Paul he always prayed, no wonder
The lash did keep his flesh still under;
Yet whip-cord seemed to lose its sting,
When for the church, or for the king,
High loyalty in such a death
Could battle torments with mean earth;
And though such sufferings he did