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vol. iii.

for the Methodists of the Arminian persuasion. It is a plain structure of brick, the interior very neat ; there is also a spacious Court behind the building, planted with some trees,

Brayley's and uniform houses on each side, the first of which on London and the right hand, entering from the City Road, was

Middlesex, occupied by Mr. John Wesley when in town, and that also in which he died.

Wesley's House,' so marked, is in front of this chapel, and in 1885 was numbered 47 City Road.

During his last illness Wesley said : “Let me be buried in nothing but what is woollen ; and let my corpse be carried in my coffin into the chapel.' This was done according to

Southey's the will, by six poor men, each of whom had 20/; Life of Wes' for I particularly desire,' said he, “that there

ley, vol. ii. may

be no hearse, no coach, no escutcheon, no pomp, except the tears of them that love me, and are following me to Abraham’s bosom.' On the day preceding the interment, Wesley's body lay in the chapel in a kind of state becoming the person, dressed in his. clerical habit, with gown, cassock, and band, the old clerical cap on his head, a Bible in one hand, and a wbite handkerchief in the other. The crowds who flocked to see him were so great that it was thought prudent, for fear of accident, to accelerate the funeral, and perform it between five and six in the morning. The intelligence, however, could not be kept entirely secret, and several hundred persons attended at that unusual hour.

As I was walking home one day from my father's bank, I observed a great crowd of people streaming into a chapel in the City Road. I followed them, and saw laid out upon Rogers's a table the dead body of a clergyman in full canoni- Table Talk. cals. It was the corpse of John Wesley; and the crowd moved slowly and silently round the table to take a last look at that most venerable man.

Wesley lies in the little burial-ground behind the City Road Chapel, under a monument erected to his memory by the members of the society to which he gave his name.




WITHER, whose famous shepherd refused to waste in

despair and die because a certain fair woman not fair to him, was a student of Lincoln's Inn, and wrote his best-known poem in the Marshalsea Prison. Later he was confined

always for political reasons in Newgate and in the Tower. This was not the Marshalsea Prison of Dickens's youth. It stood on the east side of the Borough High Street, opposite Union Street and next to the Nag's Head, the modern Newcomen Street passing over its site. The Marshalsea Debtors' Prison was nearer St. George's Church (see DICKENS, p. 80).

Wither died, it was said, in the Savoy, and, according to Wood's 'Athena Oxonienses,' was buried between the east door and south end of the Church of St. Mary-le-Savoy, known now as the Savoy Chapel, Savoy Street, Strand (see CHAUCER, P. 46). This church dates back to the very beginning of the sixteenth century, but has no memorial of Wither.



PETER PINDAR’S' first permanent home in London

was at No. 1 Chapel Street, next to the corner of Great Portland Street, Portland Place, where he lodged about the year 1782. The Portland Hotel has since been

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