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…