"Our works do not pass away, as they seem to do" -- Bernard of Clairvaux

Information still continues to drift in, often when I've just about given up hope of receiving it. Several weeks ago I posted an entry about a stained glass window in the church at Bude Haven that was dedicated to the memory of Rev. Barton R. V. Mills, father of George Mills. Cornwall records had shown that a plaque had been approved, but I couldn't at the time verify that there actually was one or what it may have said.

Yesterday afternoon, however, I received the rest of the details from Cornwall:

Dear Mr Williams,

I’m afraid that I am probably not going to be of much help, and can only give you such information as I have obtained from Budehaven Church.

I quote from the guide book of the Church:
“The window on the North side of the Sanctuary is in memory of Rev. Barton Mills and shows St Bernard of Clairvaux, on whom this priest was an authority. It is an adaption of a 15th century panel of an altar-piece from the Abbey of Clairvaux, now in a Dijon Museum.”

Under the window itself is a small plaque which reads:
“To the glory of God and in loving memory of Barton Reginald Vaughan Mills for ten years Vicar of this parish 1891 – 1901”

The bronze tablet is on the East Wall of the North Transept of the Church, under the Organ, and reads:
“To the beloved memory of Barton R. V. Mills. Born 29 October 1857, died 21 January 1932. Vicar of this parish, 1890 – 1900. ‘Our works do not pass away, as they seem to do; they are the seeds sown in time of a harvest reaped in eternity.’ Saint Bernard of Clairvaux”

I’m afraid that any information on ceremonies or services held during his time, or for the dedication of the window, would be held in the County Record Office in Truro.

I hope some of this is useful, and if you require anything further, please do let me know.

With kind regards,

David Standen

The Rev'd Dr David Standen
Priest-in-Charge of the Benefice of
Stratton & Launcells, Budehaven with Marhamchurch

Thank you very much! That actually was a great help since it would've been cost-prohibitive for me to fly to Cornwall and read those myself.

Someday I'd like to make a trip and take a look at all of the places and all of the things I've been discovering instead of merely experiencing them 'virtually'. Teachers' salaries anywhere in the United States don't exactly make entering this profession a get-rich-quick scheme, and here in Florida, they make one feel more like a "plantation worker" than a "professional," but I'm starting to put away some nickels and dimes for just such an excursion.

Until then, however, I am exceedingly appreciative of the assistance and kindness I've received from everyone who is helping me learn so much about a place and a time that sometimes seem so very far away.

Regarding the information above, I've found reference to an "Altarpiece from the Abbey of Clairvaux, with five panels (15th cent.)" in Dijon. The source is the book Northern France, from Belgium and the English Channel to the Loire by Karl Baedeker (1909). I haven't been able to find the name of the artist of that piece or any five-part 15th century image.

I have come up with an image of St. Bernard "exorcising a possession" from an altarpiece [right] by the German painter Jörg Breu the Elder (c. 1475 – 1537). Breu was born in Augsburg, about 400 km from Dijon, so that makes him a possibility in terms of time and place, especially since the on-line date of the work is simply "circa 1500." I have not been able to find the location of this painting, though.

Does it look like the window? Probably. Would I have noticed the resemblance to the stained-glass Bernard above without anything having been mentioned? Probably not.

Finally, I think the quotation of St. Bernard's is particularly wonderful. I took the second half of the quote, the segment after the semi-colon, and punched it into three major search engines: Altavista, Bing, and various Google sites. I came up with only one location for it on-line, and it is lengthy: http://books.google.co.nz/books?id=TJ2Y9opQ5V8C&pg=PA37&lpg=PA37&dq=%22they+are+the+seeds+sown+in+time+of+a+harvest+reaped+in+eternity%22&source=bl&ots=gZwGGl6Lrl&sig=YXnAqnUvAHzMY_eSJ6KfZpZ1dXs&hl=en&ei=QXrYS9j1AobK8wTE5NWXBw&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=1&ved=0CAYQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q=%22they%20are%20the%20seeds%20sown%20in%20time%20of%20a%20harvest%20reaped%20in%20eternity%22&f=false

It displays an excerpt from a 1937 book called Cornwall—England's Farthest South by Arthur Mee. Mr. Mee's context for the quote is: "The north window of the chancel has a big figure of St. Bernard holding a church; on a tablet nearby, in memory of a vicar, are these fine words of St. Bernard: Our works do not pass away, as they seem to do; they are the seeds sown in time of a harvest reaped in eternity."

It's obviously not a well-known quote, certainly not one that's proliferating across the internet. Barton R. V. Mills is the unnamed vicar in Mee's text.

I'm certain there are theologians and students of theology who study St. Bernard, his life, and his words today. I'm certain they write papers, present theses, and publish journal articles among themselves. Mills himself certainly did that.

What strikes me is that it was the death of Mills that managed to keep these powerful words by Bernard of Clairvaux alive among the lay people in Bude Haven. Arthur Mee never mentions Mills, but keeps the words of the saint alive in an English language text for the public at large—something Mills had been working to do during his career as a cleric. Finally, St. Bernard's words find their way here—on a blog, of all things!

Perhaps Barton Mills knew that St, Bernard's words were withering away in Latin, unavailable to the masses of the Modern age in which the reverend found himself in the early 20th century, post-World War I.

According to Mills' friend and colleague, Rev. Watkin W. Williams, M.A., in the Introduction to Williams' own short 1920 book on St. Bernard, The Treatise of St. Bernard, Abbat of Clairvaux, Concerning Grace and Free Will: "Researches made by my friend, the Rev. Barton Mills, have led to the conclusion that Mabillon's [commonly known] text of St. Bernard's writings, as presented in the Benedictine folio edition of Migne's Patrologia Latina, is far from trustworthy. It is not, perhaps, generally known that, when the Abbey of Clairvaux was sacked at the period of the French Revolution, a certain number of its literary treasures were rescued, and ultimately found an asylum in the Bibliothèque de la Ville in Troyes, where they still remain under the guardianship of the learned and courteous librarian, Mons. Morel-Payen."

Barton Mills spent the latter part of his life trying to define the thinking of Bernard of Clairvaux for a person—perhaps for members of his own family—and translating it for use by an increasingly modern public, regardless of social class.

Mills' 1901 book, The Marks of the Church, was initially criticized in the Church Quarterly Review [Vol. 54, April/June, 1902] as being "average" and "unnecessary," its sermons being "too plain and commonplace in style and matter to attract more than passing attention." However, a secular publication, The Bookseller [11 October 1901], had already lauded Mills for publishing a book that "more than merits the attention of the public," and whose "sermons fall in with the vogue of the day. Even pulpit utterances must be up to date, no less than other more sublunary affairs."

Perhaps the most interesting critique of the book came from The Churchwoman: "Plain and practical sermons, very much of the Walsham How type, which will describe them best." Rev. William Walsham How, of course, was a 19th century cleric who became Bishop of Wakefield. From Wikipedia: "He founded the East London Church Fund, and enlisted a large band of enthusiastic helpers, his popularity among all classes being immense."

In 1929, at almost 70 years of age, Barton Mills published his English translation of St. Bernard's twelve Degrees of Humility and Pride. In its preface Mills writes: "This volume is intended for those who do not read Latin, all quotations from classical or patristic writers have been translated, and for this purpose I have used and acknowledged public translations where such exist. Quotations from the Bible present some difficulty. St. Bernard of course uses the vulgate, and his arguments and phraseology are profoundly—and sometimes unfortunately—affected by that version."

I can't believe anyone in the hierarchy of the church was exactly doing cartwheels over a new interpretation of the 12th century writings of a saint, but Mills was at odds with the Anglican Church over several other issues as well, it seems. Writing about religion in a manner that would have suited the populace, not the Church, seems to have been one of those. Perhaps it was because his translations might not have encouraged theology students of the new century to read original church manuscripts in the Classical Languages. Why bother when clear, well-researched English language editions would be available?

In conclusion, the above quote from Bude Haven—written by St. Bernard and translated by Mills—is a remarkably fine example of what Mills was doing with the later years of his life: Making something he deeply and faithfully believed in available to us all.

The Life of B. R. V. Mills, Part 3

I've had some exciting news involving George Mills today, but I feel like I'm on a roller-coaster right now—I just found out my boss is being promoted. Good for him, bad for us here in the classrooms. Now, for most of my career, that wouldn't have been a very large hurdle to clear. Most of the school principals I've worked for are like chewing gum on the bottom of your shoe: Just when you get rid of one bit, along comes another wad. This fellow is definitely different, truly wonderful, and I'll admit I'm more than a bit dismayed and frustrated about the situation. His last day at the school is tomorrow…

Anyway, let's get back to the rest of the life of Revd Barton R. V. Mills. We left him early in the decade of the 1920s, in his early sixties, with one son married, another at university, and two daughters presumably at home.

While recent events in this narrative associated with Barton Mills seemed to have highlighted his continued love of history, he was obviously still working in theology in a scholarly way as well despite being a dozen years removed from the Savoy. In the 25 February 1922 edition of Notes and Queries: A Medium of Intercommunication for Literary Men, General Readers, etc., he asked their readership:

LATIN PROVERB : ORIGIN SOUGHT. Can any reader tell me the origin of the Latin proverb "Nescit sanus quid sentiat aeger aut plenus quid patiatur jejunus " ? It is quoted as vulgare proverbium by St. Bernard ('De Gradibus Humilitatis,' &c., cap. iii.), but I have not been able to find it in any dictionary of quotations.

BARTON R. V. MILLS.

Early in my attempts at creating a time-line for the Mills family, I had made the assumption that his work translating and interpreting St. Bernard must have been done under the auspices of some institution. It appears I was wrong, unless he pursued it on behalf of armed forces chaplains. Mills must simply have been driven to understand and explain the teachings of St. Bernard, and I still have much more to learn about why. In the above request, Mills is making certain his citations are correct, indicating that his work is almost finished.

The year 1922 brought news from Barton's daughter-in-law Lady Dorothy Mills, and it must have been quite unusual as it apparently came on the heels of a press conference! First, the Straits Times reported on 4 July, 1922, in an article entitled, "TRACING A TRIBE: An Expedition to the Sahara," that: "Lady Dorothy Mills, daughter of the Earl of Orford, has announced that she will lead an expedition into the mysterious interior of the Sahara Desert."

And before the end of 1922, the journal Current History [April-September, 1922] was reporting: "Lady Dorothy Mills, daughter of the Earl of Orford and granddaughter of D. C. Corbin of New York, is on an expedition to the remote regions of the southeastern Sahara to discover the habits of mysterious white cave men [troglodytes], first reported by Captain de St. Maurice last year."

The rest of the Mills family is quiet as reports continue to surface during 1923 that Lady Dorothy Mills, traveling alone except for guides and porters, drove deep into the heart of North Africa and became the "first white woman" to reach Timbuktu, although some accounts do label her as simply the "first Englishwoman." I'm now reading her book, and she isn't quite in Timbuktu yet, but I'll mention here that she certainly met plenty of pale, perspiring French women along the way. Still, I'll reserve judgment until I finish her account.

1924 found Barton's son, Arthur, and his daughter-in-law, Lady Dorothy, both publishing books in the same year once again: Arthur's The Broadway Madonna, which received favorable reviews, and Lady Dorothy's The Road to Timbuktu [Duckworth & Co.: London, 1924], a stunning success, after which she embarked on a new path in her writing career.

George Mills soon returned to the story when he began teaching as a junior appointment at Windlesham House School, then in Portslade, beginning at Lent, 1925. Mills claimed to have earned a B.A. from Oxford, presumably in the "English or 'English subjects'" he taught at Windlesham.

George married Vera Louise Beauclerk on 23 April 1925 at the Holy Trinity Church, Brompton, with his father, Barton, as one of the presiding clergy. They also purchased a home on Benfield Way, Portslade, that year. It appeared the young couple was settling down together. George wouldn't be staying long however.

In 1925, Arthur and Lady Dorothy Mills—neither of whom attended George's wedding—each published yet another new novel, The Gold Cat [Hutchinson & Co., London, 1925; pictured left, in its German edition] and The Dark Gods [Duckworth: London, 1925], respectively. It isn't as if publishing houses were taking on extra hands to keep up with the writing of the Mills, but that was an output that even Danielle Steele or Nora Roberts might be envious of.

Lady Dorothy was also making news simply for being herself, anywhere. Among other celebrity appearances, she attended a debutante's dance, an event that turned out to be so newsworthy that coverage of it ends up in the Straits Times in Singapore on 7 July, 1925: "In a paragraph from the Morning Post of June 9… over 100 guests were present at the Langham Hotel [London] at a dance given by Hon. Mrs. Adderley and Mrs. C. Alma Baker for Miss Julitha Baker… Among those present at the dance, many of whom took parties were:- The Duke of Manchester, Lady Southampton, Lady Dorothy Mills, Lord Fermoy, M.P., Lady Muir Mackenzie, the Hon. Lady McCalmont, Lord Edward Montagu, the Hon. Charles Fitzroy, the Hon. Edward Portman, Sir Henry and Lady Fairfax-Lucy… [etc]."

After the Summer Term in 1926, George Mills was no longer on the teaching staff list at Windlesham—a position and a place he seemed to dearly love—and no one really seems to know why. In the same year, though, Barton Mills, published perhaps his finest and most renowned work, De Gradibus Humilitatis et Superbiae by Saint Bernard of Clairvaux [University Press: Cambridge, 1926], which he edited along with his friend and colleague, Rev. Watkin W. Williams. Barton was approximately 69 years of age at the time.

Lady Dorothy, however, dominated the family's literary efforts that year by publishing yet another novel in 1926, the sci-fi tale Phœnix, [Hutchinson & Co.: London, 1926], and a pair of travel books Beyond the Bosphorus [Duckworth & Co.: London, 1926], and Through Liberia [Duckworth & Co.: London, 1926; illustration, right].

What's really unclear is how close Barton Mills was with his elder son and daughter-in-law. Were they reveling in each other's successes, or had Arthur and Dorothy by then begun moving in completely different circles? And how much did the success of the rest of the family in 1926 provide a stark contrast to new husband George's departure from teaching? It must have been gratifying for George to see such success amoing loved ones, but how frustrated might he have felt about his own fledgling career?

Over the next several years, George also taught at Warren Hill School in Eastbourne, The Craig School in Windermere, and at the English Preparatory School in Glion. Although more still comes to light about Warren Hill every day, little is now known about The Craig, and virtually nothing at all about the school in Glion, Switzerland, or George's time there.

One thing we do know is that, while George was in Windermere and Glion, he was not often spending time with his aging father, Barton, who had turned 70 in 1927. George's lack of occupational stability would be just the beginning of a period of familial difficulty that couldn't have been comforting for Barton in his declining years.

While George was away, teaching at various locales in the U.K. and in Europe as well, Lady Dorothy continued her own travels. In 1929, however, a relatively short jaunt would have an enormous impact on her life. She was involved in a car accident returning from a trip to Ascot that her scarred for life. Then, as opposed to traveling, she spent her time writing a memoir, A Different Drummer: Chapters in an Autobiography [Duckworth: London], that was published in 1930.

Seemingly recovered by 1931, Lady Dorothy heard of a expedition planning to discover the source of the Venezuela's Orinoco River. She hurriedly arranged an expedition of her own to get there first and publicly announced her plans to the press. Was this ego driven, a desire to stay on top of her literary game, or was Lady Dorothy fighting the ravages of time and injury, trying to prove something to herself as much as she was to her public?

The book about her journey, The Country of the Orinoco [Hutchinson & Co.: London] was written and published in an amazingly short amount of time, before the year of 1931 had even drawn to a close. And in that same year something of great import to her had occurred halfway around the world. Lady Dorothy's father, Robert Horace Walpole, the last Earl of Orford, had died in New Zealand on 27 September and his remains were transported home to Norfolk for burial on 8 November. Lady Dorothy, then 42 years of age, attended the services with her stepmother, Emily Gladys Oakes, then the Countess of Orford, and Dorothy's twelve-year-old half-sister, Lady Anne Walpole.

The death of the Earl at last allowed Lady Dorothy access to the trust fund she'd been unable to touch since 1918. By the time the international paperwork all had been completed, and the barristers fees deducted, one can likely assume it was well into 1932 before the funds she had inherited became available to her.

Would this brighten the future of Arthur and Lady Dorothy of Ebury Street, London? To assume so would leave you right by half, but that's another tale for another day.

More immediately, Arthur's father, Barton Mills, passed away not very long after the Earl's cold November funeral. Barton died on 21 January 1932 in London. Soon after, a stained glass window bearing the image of St. Bernard was designed, applied for, funded, and installed in Chancel North of the St Michael & All Angels parish church at Bude Haven, Cornwall, in his lasting memory. The colourful window still glows there in his memory.

Barton Mills did not live to see his son, George, publish his first book, Meredith and Co., in 1933, finally tasting some of the success that others in the family had. One hopes, though, that George had talked to his father about writing it, and that, as the manuscript lengthened, Barton had many chances to share in his son's process, as well as his excitement. Barton wouldn't ever know that eventually George would follow in his father's footsteps and author a book about a religious icon, his son's choice being St. Thomas of Canterbury [right].

Barton Mills wouldn't know that Lady Dorothy would file for divorce from his elder son, Arthur, that very same year, 1932, or that his spinster daughters, Agnes and Violet, aged 36 and 29 at the time of the elder Mills' death—women who had presumably lived with Barton for virtually their entire lives—would remain unmarried.

Barton Mills wouldn't know of Vera Mills' passing in 1942. And he wouldn't know that all four of his children apparently lived the rest of their lives "without issue."

It seemed the story may have drawn to a close after a series of deaths: Arthur passed in 1955, George in 1972, and both Agnes and Violet in 1975—the final three all in Devonshire, and seemingly all distant from anyone who would or could have recorded their daily hopes, fears, sorrows, joys, or regrets during the last thirty or forty years of their lives.

But, strangely, their story didn't end. If you're reading this, it turns out that we're all here today considering the lives of this family of almost forgotten people, even though there were no daughters, sons, grandchildren, or great-grandchildren, seemingly no kin at all, left to continue to try to weave together the threads of their story—or even at the very least to upload to the internet the contents of a diary, a love letter, or a wedding photograph, or even to post a series of dates recorded in the family Bible on a blog. If there was anyone left to eventually do any of that, well... where is it all?

One piece of the story had been left here, another clue there, and a memory over in the mind of someone else. Just this morning, for example, I was delighted at having been contacted by a gentleman with a memory of George Mills. The story of George Mills is still around. It's simply scattered about us, a bit here and a bit there, like an overturned jigsaw puzzle...

So if you have any of those pieces, no matter how small, to add to this tale, if you know a friend of the Mills family, a former student, or anyone else who might remember George Mills or his family, please don't hesitate to let me know.

[Read Part 1 and/or Part 2]

The Life of B. R. V. Mills, Part 1

Details, details, details…

Sometimes one tiny item sets off a string of revelations. In doing a search on Sir George Dalhousie Ramsay, I stumbled on yet another detail that was quite interesting regarding Rev. Barton Reginald Vaughan Mills, father of George Mills. I thought about writing about it immediately, but took a quick look at what a long and winding road the path of the Rev. Barton's life had become, and I was shocked. Those details all begin to add up!

To put the life of George Mills into perspective, I think we first need to examine the foundation upon which George's life was constructed: We need to look at his family of origin, and especially—given the glaring lack of information about George's mother and sisters—at the life of George's father.

He's the man who truly sets the metaphorical stage for George's adult life. And Barton Mills' life is one that had indeed taken some unexpected twists and turns that I've put off writing about for too long. In fact, it's probably far too much for a single post here, so let's just get it started right now…

Barton R. V. Mills was born on 29 October 1857. His father, Arthur Mills of Bude Haven, Cornwall, was the new Tory M.P. from Taunton at the time. He was named after a member of the Acland family and relative of Barton's mother Lady Agnes Acland. He was also named in honour of Rev. Charles John Vaughan, apparently a friend of Arthur Mills and later the scandalous Head Master of Harrow School.

Barton attended Harrow School in 1870 and 1871, years after his namesake's departure. In 1873, his father became the M.P. from Exeter, but the Mills family was also maintaining a London residence at 34 Hyde Park Gardens, W., at the time as well as their home in Cornwall. Barton later attended Christ Church, Oxford, beginning in 1876.

In 1880, Barton earned a B.A. degree in History from Oxford, and receives his M.A in 1883. Arthur Mills had spent much of Barton's lifetime traveling the world and becoming an expert on colonial economies, and may have been en route from New Zealand when the advanced degree was conferred.

In 1884, we find "Rev. B. R. V. Mills," now a clergyman, sitting on the Battersea Committee as an active member, according to a 15 December report by The Council of the Society for Organising Charitable Relief and Repressing Mendicity. The committee, chaired by the Vicar of Battersea for relief of the poor, may be where Mills met his longtime friend, Rev. Watkin W. Williams, who also served as an active member.

In that same year, Barton Mills published a pamphlet entitled The Early Sieges of Exeter and their connexion with the General History of England that was based on a lecture he had given earlier. In 1895, the journal The Western Antiquary, concluded: "We must commend this paper as one of value and interest."

Even more interestingly in 1885, Barton R. V. Mills is surprisingly mentioned in the book, Converts to Rome: A list of about four thousand protestants who have recently become Roman Catholics by W. Gordon Gorman [W. Swan Sonnenschein: London, 1885]. The listing within a section headed "CHRIST CHURCH" reads: "B. R. V. Mills, son of Arthur C. Mills, M.P. for Exeter." No date is given for Barton's conversion, nor why Arthur had gained an unexpected middle initial.

Although Barton Mills had already become a clergyman by the year 1885, in this text he isn't titled as a 'Reverend,' or even a listed as a B.A.—at least not at that point in his conversion to Roman Catholicism. He is simply recorded among the recent converts from Christ Church.

As we know, according to Oxford University, Mills "matriculated from Christ Church on 13 October 1876, aged 18" and "the degree of BA was conferred in 1880 [by Oxford]." So, the conversion of Mills likely occurred while he was still a student at Christ Church, sometime between 1877 and 1879.

Now things started happening relatively quickly: In the Summer of 1886, Barton R. V. Mills married Lady Catherine Mary Valentia Hobart-Hampden at St. George, Hanover Square, London, on 10 July. She is granted the rank of an Earl's daughter at the wedding.

That same year, Barton and Lady Catherine left England and family behind as Mills became "Chaplain at San Remo" in 1886. Where, exactly, in San Remo he was appointed chaplain is still under investigation. There is as of yet no record found showing him to have been chaplain at either All Saints or St. John's Churches at that time. No real matter: He wouldn't be there very long.

On Ash Wednesday morning, 23 February 1886, with many churchgoers already attending services, a deadly 6.5-level earthquake devastated San Remo, Italy, as well as many nearby towns and villages. Lady Catherine Mills was probably just over 4 months pregnant with their first child and, unless the newlyweds were quickly parted, probably in San Remo at the time of that disaster.

The very next day, a Cornish newspaper announced: "Bude - The Living of Poughill - The Rev. Barton V. Mills, eldest son of Mr. Arthur Mills, Bude, has accepted the living of Poughill, near Bude. Poughill contains 1,700 acres, with a population of 399. Probable gross value of the living about £125 per annum. The Rev. T.S. Carnsew, who is promoted to the living of Constantine, near Falmouth, has been vicar of Poughill for 30 years."

Word travels quickly, apparently just as quickly as thirty-year vicars could when it was deemed necessary.

Just months later, Arthur Frederick Hobart Mills, the brother of George Mills, was born on 12 July 1887 in Cornwall. It's unknown at this point if Arthur was full term, or if Lady Catherine had suffered any injury in San Remo, any discomfort on her return from Italy, or any difficulties during the birth itself.

Sadly, Lady Catherine passed away just two years later, on 25 September 1889, the same year Barton Mills left the vicarage at Poughill. Did he leave because of her death? Was it sudden? Had he taken leave of his duties earlier to care for her? It's unclear if he left before or after that exact date, 25 September, and I am waiting for word from Poughill that may provide a clue.

It's now well into Autumn, 1889, in our story and winter's fast approaching. We've left the widowed vicar, Barton Reginald Vaughan Mills, and his young son, Arthur, in the care of 73-year-old Arthur Mills, Esq., M.P., in a house cared for by 10 servants at 128 Efford Down in Bude, Cornwall [left].

Barton will still be living there as a resident during the census in the Spring of 1891, along with young Arthur, then three years old. But Barton, 33 himself, in that document will state his occupation as that of being the new "Vicar Of Budehaven."

And that won't be the only change made as Barton returns to the Anglican Church and starts a new family—one that will include a young chap by the name of George Mills—as we'll see in Part 2!

[Read Part 2 or Part 3.]

St Bernardus in the Chancel North window and Revd. B. R. V. Mills

Ask and ye shall receive, as the verse goes…

I don't recall exactly how I found what I hadn't quite expected—searching the internet is like trying to see one of those weird Magic Eye images instantly, looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack, and doing all of the "across" clues in the Times Sunday Crossword without having a glance at the "downs", all at once.

Especially given the proclivity of newspapers and periodicals of the late 19th and early 20th century to play fast and loose with things like spelling—I've seen George Mills' surname spelled Mill, Milles, Hills, and Miles, as well as seeing virtually every editor on every newspaper more than 100 miles from London "correct" the Earl of Orford, turning him into the "Earl of Oxford"—it can be tough to search every conceivable permutation of every sentence, phrase, or series of letters in a word.

Do some math and you'll quickly find out how many different possibilities there might be to search for, say, George's father, Reverend Barton Reginald Vaughan Mills, once vicar in Bude, Cornwall. Just try searching his name with each of Reverend, Rev., and Revd. tacked on, and you may not just get tired of checking each plethora of results, you may get simply tired of typing. Try it with all of various combinations of his initials and it gets even more time consuming.

And sometimes you can't even predict how an internet source will read. My best example: "ABTHT7B MILLS, Bbq., IC.P." = "ARTHUR MILLS, Esq., M.P." That's George's father, pictured right. I wish I could say it was anything but luck that allowed me to work that one out!

Anyway, I was running a search on Google for "Revd Barton Mills" when I stumbled upon this record in The National Archives, among the Diocesan Records in the Cornwall Record Office: "[no title] D/R/10/7 27 May 1932 Contents: Erection of stained glass memorial window to the Revd. Barton Mills wwith bronze tablet, with correspondence and design."

Cool! I immediately sent of an e-mail to the Diocese at Truro, and, fter having my message forwarded around the Diocese, I received the following reply:

Dear Mr Williams

I have the following information on the window at St Michael & All Angels parish church at Bude Haven.

The single light window is located in Chancel North. It was inserted in 1932 (Faculty granted on 6th July 1932). It was designed by Hubert Blanchford of Exeter, a local studio with a very small output, but responsible for three windows at Bude. It is dedicated to Revd Barton Reginald Vaughn Mills, and I have a note that he was an authority on St Augustine. I have no details of the content of any memorial plaque. I have attached a photograph, and apologise for the poor quality.

Best wishes on your research

Michael Swift
Stained glass adviser to the Diocese of truro

Many thanks, Michael, to you and the Diocese of Truro for both the information and the image. What a wonderful memorial and tribute to a man and his life's work, may he rest in peace. If you do click the image, it will enlarge it some!

I didn't know that about Barton and St. Augustine. I knew [and you can see from the window] his special interest at one point in his career was St Bernard of Clairvaux, although that was some years after he left the vicarage at Bude Haven in 1901. I am, however, hot on the trail of a friend of Barton's, the Revd. Watkin W. Williams [one of the clerics presiding over the wedding of George Mills and Vera Beauclerk in 1925]. I believe Williams also wrote on St. Bernard, and that he and Barton Mills helped each other research, translate, and interpret his writings. Watkins did, I'm certain, attend St. Augustine Missionary College in Canterbury. A link? Who knows?

I do know Williams was rector in Drayton St. Leonard, pictured at right, and I'm waiting to hear from them, although I understand that it was long ago...

Well, while I wisely wait for word on Watkin Wynn Williams, I'm sure we all wish for me wisdom: The wisdom of knowing when to stop using alliteration in such an annoying way!