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design of its original institution is not forgotten; as, on the Sunday throngs of visitants from the neighbouring villages repair to attend the afternoon service of the church, when sermons, tending to correct immorality and disorder are delivered.

Having, under the list of Incumbents, given most of our biographical notices relative to Scalby, it now only remains that we extend our account of Mr. Mompesson,* which we do in the animated words of Miss Seward, who observes, "his memory ought never to die; it should be immortal as the spirit which made it worthy to live."

"The village of Eyamt was one of the last places, (if not the very last place,) in England, visited by the plague in 1666; the year after that, in which, in the city of London, Death, on his pale horse, trampled on three thousand victims, in one ghastly night. Mr. Mompesson was then rector of Eyam, and in the vigour of his youth. He had married a beautiful young lady, by whom he had a boy and a girl, of three and four years old. The plague was brought to Eyam in patterns of cloth sent from London to a tailor in that village. It raged with great violence, and swept away four fifths of the inhabitants.

On the commencement of the contagion, Mrs. Mompesson threw herself, with her babes, at the feet of her husband, to supplicate his flight from

* Vidé p. 18. + Derbyshire.

that devoted place; but not even the tears and entreaties of a beloved wife conld induce him to desert his flock in those hours of danger and dismay. Equally fruitless were his persuasions that she would retire with her infants. The result of this pathetic contest was a resolve to remove their children, and abide together the fury of the pestilence.

Mr. Mompesson, constantly visited the sick, and praying by them,

"Drew, like Marseilles' good bishop, purer breath,

When nature sicken'd, and each gale was death.”

From a rational belief, that assembling in the church for public worship, during the summer heats, would spread and increase the infection, he agreed with his afflicted parishioners that he would read prayers to them three times in the week, and deliver his two sermons on the sabbath, from one of the perforated arches in the rocks of a verdant dingle. By his directions they ranged themselves on the grassy declivity near the bottom, a yard distant from each other; the dell being so narrow, a speaker from that rock might be distinctly heard. Do you not see this dauntless minister of God, stretching forth his hands from the rock, and preaching to his alarmed and distressed flock in that wilderness? How solemn, how pathetic, must have been his exhortations, in those terrific hours!

The church-yard soon ceased to afford room for the dead; they were afterward buried in a heathy hill above the village. Curious travellers take pleasure in visiting these tumuli, and in examining their yet distinct remains; also in descending from the

cliffs, which brow the summit of the dingle, into the excavated rock from which Mr. Mompesson performed divine service, during that awful visitation. The consecrated rock is called Cucklet Church, by the villagers to this day.

Mr. Mompesson remained in health during the whole time of the contagion; but Providence saw fit to put his fortitude to a severer trial, than if he had seen the plague-spot indurated upon his own body. Amongst other precautions against the disease, Mrs. Mompesson had prevailed upon her husband to suffer an incision to be made in his leg,

and kept open. One day she observed appearances

in the wound which induced her belief that the contagion had found a vent that way, and that, consequently, the danger was over as to him; the digestion of the sore being a certain sign of recovery. Instead of being shocked that the pestilence had entered her house, and that her weakness, for she was not in health, must next endure its fury, she expressed the most rapturous gratitude to Heaven for the apprehended deliverance of him, whom more than life she loved. His letters, though he seems to think her conviction groundless concerning his having taken the disease, make grateful mention of that disinterested joy.

Mrs. Mompesson, however, soon after sickened of the plague, and expired in her husband's arms, in the twenty seventh year of her age. Her monument is now in Eyam church-yard, protected by iron rails, and with the inscription distinct, Her great grand-daughter's pious visit to the tomb of her

excellent ancestress, when I was at Eyam with my father, in my sixteenth year, proved the commencement of the friendship which subsists between that very accomplished lady and myself.

Upon the first appearance of the pestilence at Eyam, Mr. Mompesson informed the earl of Devonshire, then residing at Chatsworth, that he believed he could prevail upon his parishioners to confine themselves within the limits of the village, provided his lordship would exert himself to induce the country round to supply them with necessaries, leaving such provisions as might be requested, in appointed places, and at appointed hours, upon the neighbouring hills.

The proposal was punctually complied with; and it is most remarkable, that when the pestilence became beyond conception terrible, not a single inhabitant attempted to pass the deathful bounds of the village, though a regiment of soldiers could not, in that rocky and open country, have detained them against their will; much less could any watch, which might have been set by the neighbourhood, have effected that infinitely important purpose.

By the influence of this exemplary man, the result of his pious and affectionate virtue, the rest of the county of Derby escaped the plague; not one of the neighbouring towns, hamlets, nor even a single house, being infected beyond the limits of Eyam village, though the distemper remained there more than seven months.

Mr. Mompesson died in the

year 1708,"

H

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The most celebrated of these is the one which is romantically situated in a delightful recess on the North-shore of Scarborough, about the distance of one mile and a half from the Castle, the ride conducting to which may be pleasantly taken along the Sands. A branch of the river Derwent, which passes through Ayton, Hackness, and Scalby, rolls with pleasing murmurs near the building, proving ornamental as well as useful. It is enclosed with hills of verdure, and of varied form; an elevated point of rock near the shore gives an effective finish to the scene. In the garden of this retreat, appear several very neat edifices, erected for the purpose of displaying the tea-equipage during the summer months, round which grow pendent laburnums and honey-suckles, this spot being much frequented in the Scarborough season by parties formed for the purpose of taking tea, amid the charms of rural scenery. From the seats here a most delightful scene presents itself of the majestic ruins of Scar

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