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Recollections of John Pounds: I visit the Nephew by Reverend Henry Hawkes

A few minutes before five o’clock on Sunday afternoon, I tapped at the little door in St. Mary’s Street. The Nephew came to let me in. There was nobody else in the house. As he opened the door, all was dark and still in the little shop. We crossed the shop, and went up-stairs into the bedroom, where we were to take tea. All looked bright and cheerful there. There was a blazing fire. The furniture, what little there was, looked bright and well dusted, and all put in proper order. The little tea-table was set out beside the fire; all in readiness. The kettle was singing on the hob. Read more

Recollections of John Pounds: John Pounds Funeral by Reverend Henry Hawkes

Saturday was a bitterly cold day; dark and gloomy; blowing a gale, with a cutting north-east wind. The frost was intense. The streets were sheeted with ice and frozen snow. But this did not prevent large crowds attending the poor old cobbler to his grave. As the funeral came out of White Horse Street into High Street, and turned to the left towards the Chapel, it seemed as if all St. Mary’s Street were pouring after it. The Nephew, and Mr. Lemmon and his family, and others of his near friends and relatives, walked after the coffin as mourners; but hundreds more came crowding along, – one mass of bereavement and lamentation. Read more