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diff --git a/39532-h/39532-h.htm b/39532-h/39532-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd53931 --- /dev/null +++ b/39532-h/39532-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8726 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + Curious Epitaphs, by William Andrews—A Project Gutenberg eBook + </title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + + body {margin-left: 12%; margin-right: 12%;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right; font-style: normal;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + + hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + .br {border-right: solid 1px; padding-left: 0.5em; padding-right: 0.5em;} + + .giant {font-size: 200%} + .huge {font-size: 150%} + .large {font-size: 125%} + + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .note {margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;} + .hang {margin-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + .index {margin-left: 20%;} + .caption {text-align: center; font-size: small;} + .title {text-align: center; font-size: 150%;} + + .right {text-align: right;} + .center {text-align: center;} + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .smcaplc {text-transform: lowercase; font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + p.dropcap:first-letter{float: left; padding-right: 3px; font-size: 250%; line-height: 83%; width:auto;} + .caps {text-transform:uppercase;} + + a:link {color:#0000ff; text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:#6633cc; text-decoration:none} + + .spacer {padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Curious Epitaphs, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Curious Epitaphs + +Author: Various + +Editor: William Andrews + +Release Date: April 25, 2012 [EBook #39532] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CURIOUS EPITAPHS *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>CURIOUS EPITAPHS.</h1> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">MARTYRS’ MONUMENT, EDINBURGH.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p><p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="giant">Curious<br /> +Epitaphs</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">Collected and Edited with Notes</p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">By <span class="large">William Andrews</span></p> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img01.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">LONDON:<br /> +WILLIAM ANDREWS & CO., 5, FARRINGDON AVENUE, E.C.<br /> +1899.</p> + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img02.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + +<p> </p><p> </p><p> </p> +<p class="center">THIS BOOK IS<br /> +DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF<br /> +CUTHBERT BEDE, B.A.,<br /> +<i>Author of “Verdant Green,” etc.</i>,<br /> +AS A TOKEN OF GRATITUDE FOR<br /> +LITERARY ASSISTANCE AND SYMPATHY<br /> +GIVEN IN YEARS AGONE,<br /> +BUT NOT FORGOTTEN.<br /> +W. A.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2>Preface.</h2> + +<div class="note"> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">This</span> work first appeared in 1883 and quickly passed out of print. Some +important additions are made in the present volume. It is hoped that in +its new form the book may find favour with the public and the press.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">William Andrews.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Hull Press</span>,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>May Day, 1899</i>.</span></p></div> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p class="title">Contents.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> </td><td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Epitaphs on Tradesmen</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Typographical Epitaphs</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Good and Faithful Servants</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Epitaphs on Soldiers and Sailors</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Epitaphs on Musicians and Actors</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Epitaphs on Sportsmen</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Bacchanalian Epitaphs</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Epitaphs on Parish Clerks and Sextons</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Punning Epitaphs</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Manxland Epitaphs</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Epitaphs on Notable Persons</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Miscellaneous Epitaphs</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Index</span></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td></tr></table> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="giant">CURIOUS EPITAPHS.</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<h2>Epitaphs on Tradesmen.</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">Many</span> interesting epitaphs have been placed to the memory of tradesmen. +Often they are not of an elevating character, nor highly poetical, but +they display the whims and oddities of men. We will first present a few +relating to the watch and clock-making trade. The first specimen is from +Lydford churchyard, on the borders of Dartmoor:—</p> + +<p class="center">Here lies, in horizontal position,<br /> +the outside case of<br /> +<span class="smcap">George Routleigh</span>, Watchmaker;<br /> +Whose abilities in that line were an honour<br /> +to his profession.<br /> +Integrity was the Mainspring, and prudence the<br /> +Regulator,<br /> +of all the actions of his life.<br /> +Humane, generous, and liberal,<br /> +his Hand never stopped<br /> +till he had relieved distress.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>So nicely regulated were all his motions,<br /> +that he never went wrong,<br /> +except when set a-going<br /> +by people<br /> +who did not know his Key;<br /> +even then he was easily<br /> +set right again.<br /> +He had the art of disposing his time so well,<br /> +that his hours glided away<br /> +in one continual round<br /> +of pleasure and delight,<br /> +until an unlucky minute put a period to<br /> +his existence.<br /> +He departed this life<br /> +Nov. 14, 1802,<br /> +aged 57:<br /> +wound up,<br /> +in hopes of being taken in hand<br /> +by his Maker;<br /> +and of being thoroughly cleaned, repaired,<br /> +and set a-going<br /> +in the world to come.</p> + +<p>In the churchyard of Uttoxeter, a monument is placed to the memory of +Joseph Slater, who died November 21st, 1822, aged 49 years:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies one who strove to equal time,<br /> +A task too hard, each power too sublime;<br /> +Time stopt his motion, o’erthrew his balance-wheel,<br /> +Wore off his pivots, tho’ made of hardened steel;<br /> +Broke all his springs, the verge of life decayed,<br /> +And now he is as though he’d ne’er been made.<br /> +Such frail machine till time’s no more shall rust,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>And the archangel wakes our sleeping dust;<br /> +Then in assembled worlds in glory join,<br /> +And sing—“The hand that made us is divine.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>Our next is from Berkeley, Gloucestershire:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lyeth <span class="smcap">Thomas Peirce</span>, whom no man taught,<br /> +Yet he in iron, brass, and silver wrought;<br /> +He jacks, and clocks, and watches (with art) made<br /> +And mended, too, when others’ work did fade.<br /> +Of Berkeley, five times Mayor this artist was,<br /> +And yet this Mayor, this artist, was but grass.<br /> +When his own watch was down on the last day,<br /> +He that made watches had not made a key<br /> +To wind it up; but useless it must lie,<br /> +Until he rise again no more to die.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Died February 25th, 1665, aged 77.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>The following is from Bolsover churchyard, Derbyshire:—</p> + +<p class="center">Here<br /> +lies, in a horizontal position, the outside<br /> +case of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Thomas Hinde</span>,<br /> +Clock and Watch-maker,<br /> +Who departed this life, wound up in hope of<br /> +being taken in hand by his Maker, and being<br /> +thoroughly cleaned, repaired, and set a-going<br /> +in the world to come,<br /> +On the 15th of August, 1836,<br /> +In the 19th year of his age.</p> + +<p>Respecting the next example, Mr. Edward Walford, <span class="smcaplc">M.A.</span>, wrote to the +<i>Times</i> as follows: Close to the south-western corner of the parish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +churchyard of Hampstead there has long stood a square tomb, with a +scarcely decipherable inscription, to the memory of a man of science of +the last century, whose name is connected with the history of practical +navigation. The tomb, having stood there for more than a century, had +become somewhat dilapidated, and has lately undergone a careful +restoration at the cost and under the supervision of the Company of +Clock-makers, and the fact is recorded in large characters on the upper +face. The tops of the upright iron railings which surround the tomb have +been gilt, and the restored inscription runs as follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>In memory of Mr. <span class="smcap">John Harrison</span>, late of Red Lion-square, London, +inventor of the time-keeper for ascertaining the longitude at sea. He +was born at Foulby, in the county of York, and was the son of a +builder of that place, who brought him up to the same profession. +Before he attained the age of 21, he, without any instruction, +employed himself in cleaning and repairing clocks and watches, and +made a few of the former, chiefly of wood. At the age of 25 he +employed his whole time in chronometrical improvements. He was the +inventor of the gridiron pendulum, and the method of preventing the +effects of heat and cold upon time-keepers by two bars fixed together; +he introduced the secondary spring, to keep them going while winding +up, and was the inventor of most (or all) the improvements in clocks +and watches during his time. In the year 1735 his first time keeper +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>was sent to Lisbon, and in 1764 his then much improved fourth +time-keeper having been sent to Barbadoes, the Commissioners of +Longitude certified that he had determined the longitude within +one-third of half a degree of a great circle, having not erred more +than forty seconds in time. After sixty years’ close application to +the above pursuits, he departed this life on the 24th day of March, +1776, aged 83.</p></div> + +<p>In an epitaph in High Wycombe churchyard, life is compared to the working +of a clock. It runs thus:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Of no distemper,<br /> +Of no blast he died,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">But fell,</span><br /> +Like Autumn’s fruit,<br /> +That mellows long,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Even wondered at</span><br /> +Because he dropt not sooner.<br /> +Providence seemed to wind him up<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">For fourscore years,</span><br /> +Yet ran he nine winters more;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Till, like a clock,</span><br /> +Worn out with repeating time,<br /> +The wheels of weary life<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">At last stood still.</span><br /> +In Memory of <span class="smcap">John Abdidge</span>, Alderman.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Died 1785.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>We have some curious specimens of engineers’ epitaphs. A good example is +copied from the churchyard of Bridgeford-on-the-Hill, Notts:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>Sacred to the memory +of <span class="smcap">John Walker</span>, the only son of Benjamin and Ann +Walker, Engineer and Pallisade Maker, died September 22nd, 1832, aged +36 years.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Farewell, my wife and father dear;<br /> +My glass is run, my work is done,<br /> +And now my head lies quiet here.<br /> +That many an engine I’ve set up,<br /> +And got great praise from men,<br /> +I made them work on British ground,<br /> +And on the roaring seas;<br /> +My engine’s stopp’d, my valves are bad,<br /> +And lie so deep within;<br /> +No engineer could there be found<br /> +To put me new ones in.<br /> +But Jesus Christ converted me<br /> +And took me up above,<br /> +I hope once more to meet once more,<br /> +And sing redeeming love.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>Our next is on a railway engine-driver, who died in 1840, and was buried +in Bromsgrove churchyard:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>My engine now is cold and still,<br /> +No water does my boiler fill;<br /> +My coke affords its flame no more;<br /> +My days of usefulness are o’er;<br /> +My wheels deny their noted speed,<br /> +No more my guiding hand they need;<br /> +My whistle, too, has lost its tone,<br /> +Its shrill and thrilling sounds are gone;<br /> +My valves are now thrown open wide;<br /> +My flanges all refuse to guide,<br /> +My clacks also, though once so strong,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>Refuse to aid the busy throng:<br /> +No more I feel each urging breath;<br /> +My steam is now condensed in death.<br /> +Life’s railway o’er, each station’s passed,<br /> +In death I’m stopped, and rest at last.<br /> +Farewell, dear friends, and cease to weep:<br /> +In Christ I’m safe; in Him I sleep.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In the Ludlow churchyard is a headstone to the memory of John Abingdon +“who for forty years drove the Ludlow stage to London, a trusty servant, a +careful driver, and an honest man.” He died in 1817, and his epitaph is as +follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>His labor done, no more to town,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His onward course he bends;</span><br /> +His team’s unshut, his whip’s laid up,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And here his journey ends.</span><br /> +Death locked his wheels and gave him rest,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And never more to move,</span><br /> +Till Christ shall call him with the blest<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To heavenly realms above.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>The epitaph we next give is on the driver of the coach that ran between +Aylesbury and London, by the Rev. H. Bullen, Vicar of Dunton, Bucks, in +whose churchyard the man was buried:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Parker</span>, farewell! thy journey now is ended,<br /> +Death has the whip-hand, and with dust is blended;<br /> +Thy way-bill is examined, and I trust<br /> +Thy last account may prove exact and just.<br /> +When he who drives the chariot of the day,<br /> +Where life is light, whose Word’s the living way,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>Where travellers, like yourself, of every age,<br /> +And every clime, have taken their last stage,<br /> +The God of mercy, and the God of love,<br /> +Show you the road to Paradise above!</td></tr></table> + +<p>Lord Byron wrote on John Adams, carrier, of Southwell, Nottinghamshire, an +epitaph as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">John Adams</span> lies here, of the parish of Southwell,<br /> +A carrier who carried his can to his mouth well;<br /> +He carried so much, and he carried so fast,<br /> +He could carry no more—so was carried at last;<br /> +For the liquor he drank, being too much for one,<br /> +He could not carry off—so he’s now carri-on.</td></tr></table> + +<p>On Hobson, the famous University carrier, the following lines were +written:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies old <span class="smcap">Hobson</span>: death has broke his girt,<br /> +And here! alas, has laid him in the dirt;<br /> +Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one<br /> +He’s here stuck in a slough and overthrown:<br /> +’Twas such a shifter, that, if truth were known,<br /> +Death was half glad when he had got him down;<br /> +For he had any time these ten years full,<br /> +Dodged with him betwixt Cambridge and the Bull;<br /> +And surely Death could never have prevailed,<br /> +Had not his weekly course of carriage failed.<br /> +But lately finding him so long at home,<br /> +And thinking now his journey’s end was come,<br /> +And that he had ta’en up his latest inn,<br /> +In the kind office of a chamberlain<br /> +Showed him the room where he must lodge that night,<br /> +Pulled off his boots and took away the light.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>If any ask for him it shall be said,<br /> +Hobson has supt and’s newly gone to bed.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In Trinity churchyard, Sheffield, formerly might be seen an epitaph on a +bookseller, as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In Memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Richard Smith</span>, who died<br /> +April 6th, 1757, aged 52.</td></tr> +<tr><td>At thirteen years I went to sea;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To try my fortune there,</span><br /> +But lost my friend, which put an end<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To all my interest there.</span><br /> +To land I came as ’twere by chance,<br /> +At twenty then I taught to dance,<br /> +And yet unsettled in my mind,<br /> +To something else I was inclined;<br /> +At twenty-five laid dancing down,<br /> +To be a bookseller in this town,<br /> +Where I continued without strife,<br /> +Till death deprived me of my life.<br /> +Vain world, to thee I bid farewell,<br /> +To rest within this silent cell,<br /> +Till the great God shall summon all<br /> +To answer His majestic call,<br /> +Then, Lord, have mercy on us all.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The following epitaph was written on James Lackington, a celebrated +bookseller, and eccentric character:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Good passenger, one moment stay,<br /> +And contemplate this heap of clay;<br /> +’Tis <span class="smcap">Lackington</span> that claims a pause,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>Who strove with death, but lost his cause:<br /> +A stranger genius ne’er need be<br /> +Than many a merry year was he.<br /> +Some faults he had, some virtues too<br /> +(the devil himself should have his due);<br /> +And as dame fortune’s wheel turn’d round,<br /> +Whether at top or bottom found,<br /> +He never once forgot his station,<br /> +Nor e’er disown’d a poor relation;<br /> +In poverty he found content,<br /> +Riches ne’er made him insolent.<br /> +When poor, he’d rather read than eat,<br /> +When rich books form’d his highest treat,<br /> +His first great wish to act, with care,<br /> +The sev’ral parts assigned him here;<br /> +And, as his heart to truth inclin’d,<br /> +He studied hard the truth to find.<br /> +Much pride he had,—’twas love of fame,<br /> +And slighted gold, to get a name;<br /> +But fame herself prov’d greatest gain,<br /> +For riches follow’d in her train.<br /> +Much had he read, and much had thought,<br /> +And yet, you see, he’s come to nought;<br /> +Or out of print, as he would say,<br /> +To be revised some future day:<br /> +Free from errata, with addition,<br /> +A new and a complete edition.</td></tr></table> + +<p>At Rugby, on Joseph Cave, Dr. Hawksworth wrote:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center">Near this place lies the body of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Joseph Cave</span>,<br /> +Late of this parish;<br /> +Who departed this life Nov. 18, 1747,<br /> +Aged 79 years.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>He was placed by Providence in a humble station; but industry +abundantly supplied the wants of nature, and temperance blest him with +content and wealth. As he was an affectionate father, he was made +happy in the decline of life by the deserved eminence of his eldest +son,</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Edward Cave</span>,</p> + +<p>who, without interest, fortune, or connection, by the native force of +his own genius, assisted only by a classical education, which he +received at the Grammar School of this town, planned, executed, and +established a literary work called</p> + +<p class="center"><i>The Gentleman’s Magazine</i>,</p> + +<p>whereby he acquired an ample fortune, the whole of which devolved to +his family.</p> + +<p class="center">Here also lies<br /> +The body of <span class="smcap">William Cave</span>,</p> + +<p>second son of the said <span class="smcap">Joseph Cave</span>, who died May 2, 1757, aged 62 +years, and who, having survived his elder brother,</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Edward Cave</span>,</p> + +<p>inherited from him a competent estate; and, in gratitude to his +benefactor, ordered this monument to perpetuate his memory.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>He lived a patriarch in his numerous race,<br /> +And shew’d in charity a Christian’s grace:<br /> +Whate’er a friend or parent feels he knew;<br /> +His hand was open, and his heart was true;<br /> +In what he gain’d and gave, he taught mankind<br /> +A grateful always is a generous mind.<br /> +Here rests his clay! his soul must ever rest,<br /> +Who bless’d when living, dying must be blest.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>The well-known blacksmith’s epitaph, said to be written by the poet +Hayley, may be found in many churchyards in this country. It formed the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +subject of a sermon delivered on Sunday, the 27th day of August, 1837, by +the then Vicar of Crich, Derbyshire, to a large assembly. We are told that +the vicar appeared much excited, and read the prayers in a hurried manner. +Without leaving the desk, he proceeded to address his flock for the last +time; and the following is the substance thereof: “To-morrow, my friends, +this living will be vacant, and if any one of you is desirous of becoming +my successor he has now an opportunity. Let him use his influence, and who +can tell but he may be honoured with the title of Vicar of Crich. As this +is my last address, I shall only say, had I been a blacksmith, or a son of +Vulcan, the following lines might not have been inappropriate:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>My sledge and hammer lie reclined,<br /> +My bellows, too, have lost their wind;<br /> +My fire’s extinct, my forge decayed,<br /> +And in the dust my vice is laid.<br /> +My coal is spent, my iron’s gone,<br /> +My nails are drove, my work is done;<br /> +My fire-dried corpse lies here at rest,<br /> +And, smoke-like, soars up to be bless’d.</td></tr></table> + +<p>If you expect anything more, you are deceived; for I shall only say, +Friends, farewell, farewell!” The effect of this address was too visible +to pass unnoticed. Some appeared as if awakened from a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> fearful dream, +and gazed at each other in silent astonishment; others for whom it was too +powerful for their risible nerves to resist, burst into boisterous +laughter, while one and all slowly retired from the scene, to exercise +their future cogitations on the farewell discourse of their late pastor.</p> + +<p>From Silkstone churchyard we have the following on a potter and his +wife:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>In memory of <span class="smcap">John Taylor</span>, of Silkstone, potter, who departed this +life, July 14th, Anno Domini 1815, aged 72 years.</p> + +<p>Also Hannah, his wife, who departed this life, August 13th. 1815, aged +68 years.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Out of the clay they got their daily bread,<br /> +Of clay were also made.<br /> +Returned to clay they now lie dead,<br /> +Where all that’s left must shortly go.<br /> +To live without him his wife she tried,<br /> +Found the task hard, fell sick, and died.<br /> +And now in peace their bodies lay,<br /> +Until the dead be called away,<br /> +And moulded into spiritual clay.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>On a poor woman who kept an earthenware shop at Chester, the following +epitaph was composed:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Beneath this stone lies <span class="smcap">Catherine Gray</span>,<br /> +Changed to a lifeless lump of clay;<br /> +By earth and clay she got her pelf,<br /> +And now she’s turned to earth herself.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>Ye weeping friends, let me advise,<br /> +Abate your tears and dry your eyes;<br /> +For what avails a flood of tears?<br /> +Who knows but in a course of years,<br /> +In some tall pitcher or brown pan,<br /> +She in her shop may be again.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Our next is from the churchyard of Aliscombe, Devonshire:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Here lies the remains of <span class="smcap">James Pady</span>, brickmaker, late of this parish, +in hope that his clay will be re-moulded in a workmanlike manner, far +superior to his former perishable materials.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Keep death and judgment always in your eye,<br /> +Or else the devil off with you will fly,<br /> +And in his kiln with brimstone ever fry:<br /> +If you neglect the narrow road to seek,<br /> +Christ will reject you, like a half-burnt brick!</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>In the old churchyard of Bullingham, on the gravestone of a builder, the +following lines appear:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>This humble stone is o’er a builder’s bed,<br /> +Tho’ raised on high by fame, low lies his head.<br /> +His rule and compass are now locked up in store.<br /> +Others may build, but he will build no more.<br /> +His house of clay so frail, could hold no longer—<br /> +May he in heaven be tenant of a stronger!</td></tr></table> + +<p>In Colton churchyard, Staffordshire, is a mason’s tombstone decorated with +carving of square and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> compass, in relief, and bearing the following +characteristic inscription:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">Sacred to the memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">James Heywood</span>,<br /> +Who died May 4th, 1804, in the 55th<br /> +year of his age.</td></tr> +<tr><td>The corner-stone I often times have dress’d;<br /> +In Christ, the corner-stone, I now find rest.<br /> +Though by the Builder he rejected were,<br /> +He is my God, my Rock, I build on here.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In the churchyard of Longnor, the following quaint epitaph is placed over +the remains of a carpenter:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 8em;"><span class="smcap">In</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Memory of <span class="smcap">Samuel</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Bagshaw</span> late of Har-</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">ding-Booth who depar-</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">ted this life June the</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">5th 1787 aged 71 years.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td>Beneath lie mouldering into Dust<br /> +A Carpenter’s Remains.<br /> +A man laborious, honest, just: his Character sustains.<br /> +In seventy-one revolving Years<br /> +He sow’d no Seeds of Strife;<br /> +With Ax and Saw, Line, Rule and Square, employed his careful life.<br /> +But Death who view’d his peaceful Lot<br /> +His Tree of Life assail’d<br /> +His Grave was made upon this spot, and his last Branch he nail’d.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Here are some witty lines on a carpenter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> named John Spong, who died 1739, +and is buried in Ockham churchyard:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Who many a sturdy oak has laid along,<br /> +Fell’d by Death’s surer hatchet, here lies <span class="smcap">John Spong</span>.<br /> +Post oft he made, yet ne’er a place could get<br /> +And lived by railing, tho’ he was no wit.<br /> +Old saws he had, although no antiquarian;<br /> +And stiles corrected, yet was no grammarian.<br /> +Long lived he Ockham’s favourite architect,<br /> +And lasting as his fame a tomb t’ erect,<br /> +In vain we seek an artist such as he,<br /> +Whose pales and piles were for eternity.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Our next is from Hessle, near Hull, and is said to have been inscribed on +a tombstone placed over the remains of George Prissick, plumber and +glazier:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Adieu, my friend, my thread of life is spun;<br /> +The diamond will not cut, the solder will not run;<br /> +My body’s turned to ashes, my grief and troubles past,<br /> +I’ve left no one to worldly care—and I shall rise at last.</td></tr></table> + +<p>On a dyer, from the church of St. Nicholas, Yarmouth, we have as +follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies a man who first did dye,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When he was twenty-four,</span><br /> +And yet he lived to reach the age,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of hoary hairs, fourscore.</span><br /> +But now he’s gone, and certain ’tis<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He’ll not dye any more.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>In Sleaford churchyard, on Henry Fox, a weaver, the following lines are +inscribed:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Of tender thread this mortal web is made,<br /> +The woof and warp and colours early fade;<br /> +When power divine awakes the sleeping dust,<br /> +He gives immortal garments to the just.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Our next epitaph, from Weston, is placed over the remains of a useful +member of society in his time:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies entomb’d within this vault so dark,<br /> +A tailor, cloth-drawer, soldier, and parish clerk;<br /> +Death snatch’d him hence, and also from him took<br /> +His needle, thimble, sword, and prayer-book.<br /> +He could not work, nor fight,—what then?<br /> +He left the world, and faintly cried, “Amen!”</td></tr></table> + +<p>On an Oxford bellows-maker, the following lines were written:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lyeth <span class="smcap">John Cruker</span>, a maker of bellowes,<br /> +His craftes-master and King of good fellowes;<br /> +Yet when he came to the hour of his death,<br /> +He that made bellowes, could not make breath.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The next epitaph, on Joseph Blakett, poet and shoemaker of Seaham, is said +to be from Byron’s pen:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Stranger! behold interr’d together<br /> +The souls of learning and of leather.<br /> +Poor Joe is gone, but left his awl—<br /> +You’ll find his relics in a stall.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>His work was neat, and often found<br /> +Well-stitched and with morocco bound.<br /> +Tread lightly—where the bard is laid<br /> +We cannot mend the shoe he made;<br /> +Yet he is happy in his hole,<br /> +With verse immortal as his sole.<br /> +But still to business he held fast,<br /> +And stuck to Phœbus to the last.<br /> +Then who shall say so good a fellow<br /> +Was only leather and prunella?<br /> +For character—he did not lack it,<br /> +And if he did—’twere shame to Black it!</td></tr></table> + +<p>The following lines are on a cobbler:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Death at a cobbler’s door oft made a stand,<br /> +But always found him on the mending hand;<br /> +At length Death came, in very dirty weather,<br /> +And ripp’d the soul from off the upper leather:<br /> +The cobbler lost his awl,—Death gave his last,<br /> +And buried in oblivion all the past.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Respecting Robert Gray, a correspondent writes: He was a native of +Taunton, and at an early age he lost his parents, and went to London to +seek his fortune. Here, as an errand boy, he behaved so well, that his +master took him apprentice, and afterwards set him up in business, by +which he made a large fortune. In his old age he retired from trade and +returned to Taunton, where he founded a hospital. On his monument is the +following inscription:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Taunton bore him; London bred him;<br /> +Piety train’d him; Virtue led him;<br /> +Earth enrich’d him; Heaven possess’d him;<br /> +Taunton bless’d him; London bless’d him:<br /> +This thankful town, that mindful city,<br /> +Share his piety and pity,<br /> +What he gave, and how he gave it,<br /> +Ask the poor, and you shall have it.<br /> +Gentle reader, may Heaven strike<br /> +Thy tender heart to do the like;<br /> +And now thy eyes have read his story,<br /> +Give him the praise, and God the glory.</td></tr></table> + +<p>He died at the age of 65 years, in 1635.</p> + +<p>In Rotherham churchyard the following is inscribed on a miller:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Edward Swair</span>,<br /> +who departed this life, June 16, 1781.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Here lies a man which Farmers lov’d<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who always to them constant proved;</span><br /> +Dealt with freedom, Just and Fair—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An honest miller all declare.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>On a Bristol baker we have the following:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Here lie <span class="smcap">Tho. Turar</span>, and <span class="smcap">Mary</span>, his wife. He was twice Master of the +Company of Bakers, and twice Churchwarden of this parish. He died +March 6, 1654. She died May 8th, 1643.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Like to the baker’s oven is the grave,<br /> +Wherein the bodyes of the faithful have<br /> +A setting in, and where they do remain<br /> +In hopes to rise, and to be drawn again;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>Blessed are they who in the Lord are dead,<br /> +Though set like dough, they shall be drawn like bread.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>On the tomb of an auctioneer in the churchyard at Corby, in the county of +Lincoln, is the following:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Beneath this stone, facetious wight<br /> +Lies all that’s left of poor <span class="smcap">Joe Wright</span>;<br /> +Few heads with knowledge more informed,<br /> +Few hearts with friendship better warmed;<br /> +With ready wit and humour broad,<br /> +He pleased the peasant, squire, and lord;<br /> +Until grim death, with visage queer,<br /> +Assumed Joe’s trade of Auctioneer,<br /> +Made him the Lot to <i>practise</i> on,<br /> +With “going, going,” and anon<br /> +He knocked him down to “Poor Joe’s gone!”</td></tr></table> + +<p>In Wimbledon churchyard is the grave of John Martin, a natural son of Don +John Emanuel, King of Portugal. He was sent to this country about the year +1712, to be out of the way of his friends, and after several changes of +circumstances, ultimately became a gardener. It will be seen from the +following epitaph that he won the esteem of his employers:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>To the memory of <span class="smcap">John Martin</span>, gardener, a native of Portugal, who +cultivated here, with industry and success, the same ground under +three masters, forty years.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Though skilful and experienced,<br /> +He was modest and unassuming;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>And tho’ faithful to his masters,<br /> +And with reason esteemed,<br /> +He was kind to his fellow-servants,<br /> +And was therefore beloved.<br /> +His family and neighbours lamented his death,<br /> +As he was a careful husband, a tender father, and an honest man.</td></tr></table> + +<p>This character of him is given to posterity by his last master, +willingly because deservedly, as a lasting testimony of his great +regard for so good a servant.</p> + +<p>He died March 30th, 1760. Aged 66 years.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>For public service grateful nations raise<br /> +Proud structures, which excite to deeds of praise;<br /> +While private services, in corners thrown,<br /> +Howe’er deserving, never gain a stone.<br /> +<br /> +But are not lilies, which the valleys hide,<br /> +Perfect as cedars, tho’ the valley’s pride?<br /> +Let, then, the violets their fragrance breathe,<br /> +And pines their ever-verdant branches wreathe<br /> +<br /> +Around his grave, who from their tender birth<br /> +Upreared both dwarf and giant sons of earth,<br /> +And tho’ himself exotic, lived to see<br /> +Trees of his raising droop as well as he.<br /> +<br /> +Those were his care, while his own bending age,<br /> +His master propp’d and screened from winter’s rage,<br /> +Till down he gently fell, then with a tear<br /> +He bade his sorrowing sons transport him here.<br /> +<br /> +But tho’ in weakness planted, as his fruit<br /> +Always bespoke the goodness of his root,<br /> +The spirit quickening, he in power shall rise<br /> +With leaf unfading under happier skies.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>The next is on the Tradescants, famous <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>gardeners and botanists at +Lambeth. In 1657 Mr. Tradescant, junr., presented to the Ashmolean Museum, +Oxford, a remarkable cabinet of curiosities:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Know, stranger, ere thou pass, beneath this stone<br /> +Lye <span class="smcap">John Tradescant</span>, grandsire, father, son;<br /> +The last died in his spring; the other two<br /> +Liv’d till they had travell’d art and nature through;<br /> +As by their choice collections may appear,<br /> +Of what is rare, in land, in sea, in air;<br /> +Whilst they (as Homer’s Iliad in a nut)<br /> +A world of wonders in one closet shut;<br /> +These famous antiquarians, that had been<br /> +Both gard’ners to the <span class="smcaplc">ROSE AND LILY QUEEN</span>,<br /> +Transplanted now themselves, sleep here; and when<br /> +Angels shall with trumpets waken men,<br /> +And fire shall purge the world, then hence shall rise,<br /> +And change this garden for a paradise.</td></tr></table> + +<p>We have here an epitaph on a grocer, culled from the Rev. C. W. Bardsley’s +“Memorials of St. Anne’s Church,” Manchester. In a note about the name of +Howard, the author says: “Poor John Howard’s friends gave him an +unfortunate epitaph—one, too, that reflected unkindly upon his wife. It +may still be seen in the churchyard.—Here lyeth the body of John Howard, +who died Jan. 2, 1800, aged 84 years; fifty years a respectable grocer, +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> an honest man. As it is further stated that his wife died in 1749, +fifty years before, it would seem that her husband’s honesty dated from +the day of her decease. Mrs. Malaprop herself, in her happiest moments, +could not have beaten this inscription.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> +<h2>Typographical Epitaphs.</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">The</span> trade of printer is rich in technical terms available for the writer +of epitaphs, as will be seen from the following examples.</p> + +<p>Our first inscription is from St. Margaret’s Church, Westminster, placed +in remembrance of England’s benefactor, the first English printer:—</p> + +<p class="center">To the memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Caxton</span>,<br /> +who first introduced into Great Britain<br /> +the Art of Printing;<br /> +And who, <span class="smcaplc">A.D.</span> 1477 or earlier, exercised that art in the<br /> +Abbey of Westminster.<br /> +This Tablet,<br /> +In remembrance of one to whom the literature of this<br /> +country is so largely indebted, was raised,<br /> +anno Domini <span class="smcaplc">MDCCCXX.</span>,<br /> +by the Roxburghe Club,<br /> +Earl Spencer, <span class="smcaplc">K.G.</span>, President.</p> + +<p>In St. Giles’ Cathedral Church, Edinburgh, is the Chepman aisle, founded +by the man who introduced printing into North Britain. Dr. William +Chambers, by whose munificence this stately church was restored, had +placed in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> aisle, bearing Chepman’s name, a brass tablet having the +following inscription:—</p> + +<p class="center">To the Memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Walter Chepman</span>,<br /> +designated the Scottish Caxton,<br /> +who under the auspices of James IV.<br /> +and his Queen, Margaret, introduced<br /> +the art of printing into Scotland<br /> +1507 <img src="images/symbol25.jpg" alt="[symbol]" /> founded this aisle in<br /> +honour of the King, Queen, and<br /> +their family, 1513. Died 1532.<br /> +This tablet is gratefully inscribed by<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Chambers, ll.d.</span></p> + +<p>The next is in memory of one Edward Jones, <i>ob.</i> 1705, <i>æt.</i> 53. He was +the “Gazette” Printer of the Savoy, and the following epitaph was appended +to an elegy, entitled, “The Mercury Hawkers in Mourning,” and published on +the occasion of his death:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies a Printer, famous in his time,<br /> +Whose life by lingering sickness did decline.<br /> +He lived in credit, and in peace he died,<br /> +And often had the chance of Fortune tried.<br /> +Whose smiles by various methods did promote<br /> +Him to the favour of the Senate’s vote;<br /> +And so became, by National consent,<br /> +The only Printer of the Parliament.<br /> +Thus, by degrees, so prosp’rous was his fate,<br /> +He left his heirs a very good estate.</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>It has been truthfully said that the life of Benjamin Franklin is stranger +than fiction. He was a self-made man, gaining distinction as a printer, +journalist, author, electrician, natural philosopher, statesman, and +diplomatist. The “Autobiography and Letters of Benjamin Franklin” has been +extensively circulated, and must ever remain a popular book; young men and +women cannot fail to peruse its pages without pleasure and profit.</p> + +<p>In collections of epitaphs and books devoted to literary curiosities, a +quaint epitaph said to have been written by Franklin frequently finds a +place. He was not, however, the original composer of the epitaph, but +imitated it for himself. Jacob Tonson, a famous bookseller, died in 1735, +and a Latin epitaph was written on him by an Eton scholar. It is printed +in the <i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, February, 1736, with a diffuse paraphrase +in English verse. The following is at all events a conciser version:—</p> + +<p class="center">The volume<br /> +of<br /> +his life being finished<br /> +here is the end of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Jacob Tonson</span>.<br /> +Weep authors and break your pens;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>Your Tonson effaced from the book,<br /> +is no more,<br /> +but print the last inscription on the title<br /> +page of death,<br /> +for fear that delivered to the press<br /> +of the grave<br /> +the Editor should want a title:<br /> +Here lies a bookseller,<br /> +The leaf of his life being finished,<br /> +Awaiting a new edition,<br /> +Augmented and corrected.</p> + +<p>The following is Franklin’s epitaph for himself:</p> + +<p class="center">The body<br /> +of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Benjamin Franklin</span>,<br /> +Printer<br /> +(Like the cover of an old book,<br /> +its contents torn out,<br /> +And stript of its lettering and gilding),<br /> +Lies here, food for worms.<br /> +But the work itself shall not be lost,<br /> +For it will, as he believed, appear once more,<br /> +In a new and more elegant edition,<br /> +Revised and corrected<br /> +By<br /> +The Author.</p> + +<p>But it is not at all certain that Franklin was not the earlier writer, for +the epitaph was certainly a production of the first years of +manhood—probably 1727. There are other epitaphs from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> which he may have +taken the idea; that, on the famous John Cotton at Boston, for instance, +in which he is likened to a Bible:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>A living, breathing Bible; tables where<br /> +Both covenants at large engraven were;<br /> +Gospel and law in his heart had each its column,<br /> +His head an index to the sacred volume!<br /> +His very name a title-page; and, next,<br /> +His life a commentary on the text.<br /> +Oh, what a moment of glorious worth,<br /> +When in a new edition he comes forth!<br /> +Without errata, we may think ’twill be,<br /> +In leaves and covers of Eternity.</td></tr></table> + +<p>There is a similar conceit in the epitaph on John Foster, the Boston +printer. Franklin would probably have seen both of these.</p> + +<p>On the 17th April, 1790, at the age of eighty-four years, passed away the +sturdy patriot and sagacious writer. His mortal remains rest with those of +his wife in the burial-ground of Christ Church, Philadelphia. A plain flat +stone covers the grave, bearing the following simple inscription:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">Benjamin</span></td><td align="center" rowspan="3"><span class="huge">}</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcaplc">AND</span></td><td><span class="smcap">Franklin.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">Deborah</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="3"> </td><td>1790.</td></tr></table> + +<p>This is the inscription which he directed, in his will, to be placed on +his tomb. We give a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> picture of the quiet corner where the good man and +his worthy wife are buried. English as well as American visitors to the +city usually wend their way to the last resting-place of the famous man we +delight to honour.</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img03.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">FRANKLIN’S GRAVE.</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>A printer’s sentiment inscribed to the memory of Franklin is worth +reproducing:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Benjamin Franklin</span>, the * of his profession; the type of honesty; the ! +of all; and although the <span class="huge">☞</span> of death put a . to +his existence, each § of his life is without a ||.</p></div> + +<p>Dr. Franklin’s parents were buried in one grave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> in the old Grancey +Cemetery, beside Park Street Church, Boston, Mass. He placed a marble +monument to their memory, bearing the following inscription:—</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Josiah Franklin</span><br /> +and<br /> +<span class="smcap">Abiah</span>, his wife,<br /> +Lie here interred.<br /> +They lived lovingly together, in wedlock,<br /> +Fifty-five years;<br /> +And without an estate, or any gainful employment,<br /> +By constant labour and honest industry<br /> +(With God’s blessing),<br /> +Maintained a large family comfortably;<br /> +And brought up thirteen children and seven<br /> +grand-children<br /> +Reputably.<br /> +From this instance, reader,<br /> +Be encouraged to diligence in thy calling,<br /> +And distrust not Providence.<br /> +He was a pious and prudent man,<br /> +She a discreet and virtuous woman.<br /> +Their youngest son,<br /> +In filial regard to their memory,<br /> +Places this stone.<br /> +J. F., Born 1655; Died 1744 ÆT 89.<br /> +A. F., Born 1667; Died 1752 ÆT 85.</p> + +<p>It is satisfactory to learn that, when the stone became dilapidated, the +citizens of Boston replaced it with a granite obelisk.</p> + +<p>A notable epitaph was that of George Faulkner,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> alderman and printer, of +Dublin, who died in 1775:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here sleeps <span class="smcap">George Faulkner</span>, printer, once so dear<br /> +To humorous Swift, and Chesterfield’s gay peer;<br /> +So dear to his wronged country and her laws;<br /> +So dauntless when imprisoned in her cause;<br /> +No alderman e’er graced a weighter board,<br /> +No wit e’er joked more freely with a lord.<br /> +None could with him in anecdotes confer;<br /> +A perfect annal-book, in Elzevir.<br /> +Whate’er of glory life’s first sheets presage,<br /> +Whate’er the splendour of the title-page,<br /> +Leaf after leaf, though learned lore ensues;<br /> +Close as thy types and various as thy news;<br /> +Yet, George, we see that one lot awaits them all,<br /> +Gigantic folios, or octavos small;<br /> +One universal finis claims his rank,<br /> +And every volume closes in a blank.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In the churchyard of Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk, is a good specimen of a +typographical epitaph, placed in remembrance of a noted printer, who died +in the year 1818. It reads as follows:—</p> + +<p class="center">Here lie the remains of <span class="smcap">L. Gedge</span>, Printer.<br /> +Like a worn-out character, he has returned to the Founder,<br /> +Hoping that he will be re-cast in a better and<br /> +more perfect mould.</p> + +<p>Our next example is profuse of puns, some of which are rather obscure to +younger readers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> owing to the disuse of the old wooden press. It is the +epitaph of a Scotch printer:—</p> + +<p class="center">Sacred to the memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Adam Williamson</span>,<br /> +Pressman-printer, in Edinburgh,<br /> +Who died Oct. 3, 1832,<br /> +Aged 72 years.<br /> +All my stays are loosed;<br /> +My cap is thrown off; my head is worn out;<br /> +My box is broken;<br /> +My spindle and bar have lost their power;<br /> +My till is laid aside;<br /> +Both legs of my crane are turned out of their path;<br /> +My platen can make no impression;<br /> +My winter hath no spring;<br /> +My rounce will neither roll out nor in;<br /> +Stone, coffin, and carriage have all failed;<br /> +The hinges of my tympan and frisket are immovable;<br /> +My long and short ribs are rusted;<br /> +My cheeks are much worm-eaten and mouldering<br /> +away:<br /> +My press is totally down:<br /> +The volume of my life is finished,<br /> +Not without many errors;<br /> +Most of them have arisen from bad composition, and<br /> +are to be attributed more to the chase than the<br /> +press;<br /> +There are also a great number of my own;<br /> +Misses, scuffs, blotches, blurs, and bad register;<br /> +But the true and faithful Superintendent has undertaken<br /> +to correct the whole.<br /> +When the machine is again set up<br /> +(incapable of decay),<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>A new and perfect edition of my life will appear,<br /> +Elegantly bound for duration, and every way fitted<br /> +for the grand Library of the Great Author.</p> + +<p>The next specimen is less satisfactory, because devoid of the hope that +should encircle the death of the Christian. It is the epitaph which +Baskerville, the celebrated Birmingham printer and type founder, directed +to be placed upon a tomb of masonry in the shape of a cone, and erected +over his remains:—</p> + +<p class="center">Stranger<br /> +Beneath this cone, in unconsecrated ground,<br /> +A friend to the liberties of mankind<br /> +Directed his body to be inurned.<br /> +May the example contribute to emancipate thy mind<br /> +from the idle fears of superstition, and the<br /> +wicked arts of priestcraft.</p> + +<p>It is recorded that “The tomb has long since been overturned, and even the +remains of the man himself desecrated and dispersed till the final day of +resurrection, when the atheism which in his later years he professed will +receive assuredly so complete and overwhelming a refutation.”</p> + +<p>In 1599 died Christopher Barker, one of the most celebrated of the +sixteenth century typographers, printer to Queen Elizabeth—to whom, in +fact, the present patent held by Eyre and Spottiswoode can be traced back +in unbroken succession.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here <span class="smcap">Barker</span> lies, once printer to the Crown,<br /> +Whose works of art acquired a vast renown.<br /> +Time saw his worth, and spread around his fame,<br /> +That future printers might imprint the same.<br /> +But when his strength could work the press no more<br /> +And his last sheets were folded into store,<br /> +Pure faith, with hope (the greatest treasure given),<br /> +Opened their gates, and bade him pass to heaven.</td></tr></table> + +<p>We will bring to a close our examples of typographical epitaphs with the +following, copied from the graveyard of St. Michael’s, Coventry, on a +worthy printer who was engaged over sixty years as a compositor on the +<i>Coventry Mercury</i>:—</p> + +<p class="center">Here<br /> +lies inter’d<br /> +the mortal remains<br /> +of<br /> +<span class="smcap">John Hulm</span>,<br /> +Printer,<br /> +who, like an old, worn-out type,<br /> +battered by frequent use,<br /> +reposes in the grave.<br /> +But not without a hope that at some future time<br /> +he might be cast in the mould of righteousness,<br /> +And safely locked-up<br /> +in the chase of immortality.<br /> +He was distributed from the board of life<br /> +on the 9th day of Sept., 1827,<br /> +Aged 75.<br /> +Regretted by his employers,<br /> +and respected by his fellow artists.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> +<h2>Good and Faithful Servants.</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">Our</span> graveyards contain many tombstones inscribed to the memory of old +servants. Frequently these memorials have been raised by their employers +to show appreciation for faithful discharge of duty and good conduct of +life. A few specimens of this class of epitaph can hardly fail to interest +the reader.</p> + +<p>Near to Chatsworth, Derbyshire, the seat of the Duke of Devonshire, is the +model village of Edensor, with its fine church, from the design of Sir +Gilbert Scott, reared on the site of an old structure. The church and +graveyard contain numerous touching memorials to the memory of noblemen +and their servants. In remembrance of the latter the following are of +interest. The first is engraved on a brass plate near the chancel arch:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies ye Body of <span class="smcap">Mr. Iohn Phillips</span> some-<br /> +time Housekeeper of Chatsworth, who de-<br /> +parted this life on ye 28th of May 1735, in ye<br /> +73rd year of his age, and 60th of his service in<br /> +ye Most Noble family of His Grace the Duke<br /> +of Devonshire.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Pray let my Bones together lie</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Until that sad and joyful Day,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">When from above a Voice shall say,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Rise, all ye dead, lift up your Eyes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Your great Creator bids you rise;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Then do I hope with all ye Just</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">To shake off my polluted dust,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And in new Robes of Glory Drest</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">To have access amongst ye Bless’d.</span><br /> +Which God in his infinite Mercy Grant<br /> +For the sake & through ye merits of my<br /> +Redeemer Jesus Christ ye Righteous.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Amen.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>A tombstone in the churchyard to the memory of James Brousard, who died in +1762, aged seventy-six years, states:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ful forty years as Gardener to ye D. of Devonshire,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">to propigate ye earth with plants it was his ful desire;</span><br /> +but then thy bones, alas, brave man, earth did no rest afoard,<br /> +but now wee hope ye are at rest with Jesus Christ our Lord.</td></tr></table> + +<p>On a gravestone over the remains of William Mather, 1818, are the +following lines:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>When he that day with th’ Waggon went,<br /> +He little thought his Glass was spent;<br /> +But had he kept his Plough in Hand,<br /> +He might have longer till’d the Land.</td></tr></table> + +<p>We obtain from a memorial stone at Disley Church a record of longevity:—</p> + +<p class="center">Here Lyeth Interred the<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>Body of <span class="smcap">Joseph Watson</span>, Bur-<br /> +ied June the third 1753,<br /> +Aged 104 years. He was<br /> +Park Keeper at Lyme more<br /> +than 64 years, and was ye First<br /> +that Perfected the art of Dri-<br /> +ving ye Stags. Here also Lyeth<br /> +the Body of Elizabeth his<br /> +wife, Aged 94 years, to whom<br /> +He had been married 73 years.<br /> +Reader take Notice, the Long-<br /> +est Life is Short.</p> + +<p>On the authority of Mr. J. P. Earwaker, the historian of East Cheshire, it +is recorded of the above that “in the 103rd year of his age he was at the +hunting and killed a buck with the honourable George Warren, in his Park +at Poynton, whose activity gave pleasure to all the spectators there +present. Sir George was the fifth generation of the Warren family he had +performed that diversion with in Poynton Park.”</p> + +<p>We have from Petersham, Surrey, the next example:—</p> + +<p class="center">Near the tomb of<br /> +a Worthy Family<br /> +lies the Body of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sarah Abery</span>,<br /> +who departed this life<br /> +The 3rd day of August 1795<br /> +Aged 83 Years.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>Having lived in the Service<br /> +of that Family<br /> +Sixty Years.<br /> +She was a good Christian<br /> +an Honest Woman<br /> +and<br /> +a faithful Servant.</p> + +<p>At Great Marlow a stone states that Mary Whitty passed sixty-three years +as a faithful servant in one family. She died in 1795 at the age of +eighty-two years.</p> + +<p>Our next example is from Burton-on-Trent:—</p> + +<p class="center">Sacred<br /> +to the memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sampson Adderly</span><br /> +An Honest, Sober, Modest Man<br /> +(A Character how rarely found;)<br /> +Whose peaceful Life a circle ran<br /> +More hallow’d makes this hallow’d ground<br /> +In Service thirty years he spent<br /> +And Dying left his well got gains;<br /> +To feed and cloth, a Mother bent<br /> +By Age’s slow consuming pains:<br /> +A tender Master, Mistress kind,<br /> +And Friends, (for many a friend had he)<br /> +Lament the loss, but time will find<br /> +His gain through blest Eternity<br /> +He was near thirty Years<br /> +a Servant in the Cotton Family<br /> +and died in its attendance at Buxton<br /> +the 30th of September 1760 Aged 48.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>Also adjoining to him<br /> +was laid his Aged Parent<br /> +who died the 21st of February following.</p> + +<p>From a gravestone at Sutton Coldfield we have a record of a long and +industrious life:—</p> + +<p class="center">Sacred<br /> +to the memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">John Fisher</span>, day labourer,<br /> +who died May 17th in the Year 1806<br /> +in the 91st Year of his Age,<br /> +having served two Masters at Moore Hall<br /> +in this Parish, upwards of fifty years,<br /> +Faithfully, Industriously, and Cheerfully.<br /> +He was in his Imployment<br /> +eight weeks before he died.<br /> +This Stone is inscribed to his Memory<br /> +by his last Master, as a pattern to Posterity.</p> + +<p>Our next inscription is from Eltham, Kent:—</p> + +<p class="center">Here<br /> +lie the Remains of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mr. James Tappy</span><br /> +who departed this life on the 8th of<br /> +September 1818, Aged 84.<br /> +After a faithful Service of<br /> +60 years in one Family,<br /> +by each individual in which,<br /> +He lived respected,<br /> +And died lamented<br /> +by the sole Survivor.</p> + +<p>At Besford, Worcestershire, is a gravestone to the memory of Nathaniel +Bell and his wife, both<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> of whom lived over sixty years each in the +Sebright family.</p> + +<p>At Kempsey, Worcestershire, is a tombstone on which appears the remarkable +record of seventy-seven years in the service of one family:—</p> + +<p class="center">To the Memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Sarah Armison</span>,<br /> +who died on the 27th of April<br /> +1817<br /> +Aged 88 years.<br /> +77 of which she passed in the<br /> +Service of the Family<br /> +of Mrs. Bell<br /> +Justly and deservedly lamented<br /> +by them,<br /> +for integrity, rectitude<br /> +of Conduct, and Amiable<br /> +Disposition.</p> + +<p>We have not noted a more extended period than the foregoing passed in +domestic service.</p> + +<p>At Tidmington, Worcestershire, is a gravestone to the memory of Sarah +Lanchbury, who died at the age of seventy-seven years; she was the servant +of one gentleman fifty-six years.</p> + +<p>A stone in the old abbey church at Pershore, in the same county, bears an +inscription as follows:—</p> + +<p class="center">To<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>the Memory<br /> +of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sarah Andrews</span>: a faithful Domestic<br /> +of<br /> +Mr. Herbert Woodward<br /> +of this Place<br /> +In whose Service she died<br /> +on the 10th Feby, 1814<br /> +Aged 80<br /> +having filled the Duties of her humble<br /> +Station with unblemished Integrity<br /> +for the long Period<br /> +of<br /> +52 Years.</p> + +<p>From Petworth, Sussex, we have the following:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In Memory<br /> +of <span class="smcap">Sarah Betts</span>, widow,<br /> +who passed nearly 50 Years in one Service<br /> +and died January 2, 1792<br /> +Aged 75.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Farewell! dear Servant! since thy heavenly Lord<br /> +Summons thy worth to its supreme reward.<br /> +Thine was a spirit that no toil could tire,<br /> +“When Service sweat for duty, not for hire.”<br /> +From him whose childhood cherished by thy care,<br /> +Weathered long years of sickness and despair,<br /> +Take what may haply touch the best above,<br /> +Truth’s tender praise! and tears of grateful love.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In the year 1807, died, at the age of eighty-five years, Mary Baily. She +was buried at Epsom, and her gravestone says: “She passed sixty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> years of +her life in the faithful discharge of her duties in the service of one +family, by whom she was honoured, respected, and beloved.”</p> + +<p>A gravestone at Beckenham, Kent, bears testimony to long and faithful +service:—</p> + +<p class="center">In memory<br /> +of<br /> +<span class="smcap">John King</span><br /> +who departed this Life 29th of<br /> +December 1774 aged 75 years.<br /> +He was 61 years Servant<br /> +to<br /> +Mr. Francis Valentine,<br /> +Joseph<br /> +Valentine, and Paul<br /> +Valentine,<br /> +from Father to Son,<br /> +without ever<br /> +Quitting their Service,<br /> +Neglecting<br /> +his Duty, or being<br /> +Disguised<br /> +in Liquor.</p> + +<p>From the same graveyard the next inscription is copied:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center">Sacred to the Memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Chapman</span><br /> +of this Parish,<br /> +who died December the<br /> +25th 1793<br /> +Aged 77 years.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>Sixty years of his life were passed under the Burrell Family, three +successive Generations of which he served with such Intelligence and +fidelity, as to obtain from each the sincerest respect and Friendship, +leaving behind him at his Death the Character of a truly Honest and +good Man.</p></div> + +<p>The poet Pope caused to be placed on the outside of Twickenham Church a +tablet bearing the following inscription:—</p> + +<p class="center">To the Memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mary Beach</span><br /> +Who died Nov. 5th 1725,<br /> +Aged 78.<br /> +Alexander Pope<br /> +whom she nursed in his infancy<br /> +and constantly attended for<br /> +38 years, in gratitude<br /> +to a faithful old<br /> +servant<br /> +erected this Stone.</p> + +<p>When George III. was king, Jenny Gaskoin taught a Dames’ School at Great +Limber, a rural Lincolnshire village. From the stories respecting her +which have come down to us it would appear that her qualifications for the +position of teacher were somewhat limited. It is related that in the +children’s reading lessons words often occurred which the good lady was +unable to pronounce or explain. She was too politic, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>however, to confess +her ignorance on such occasions, and had resource to the artful evasion of +saying, “Never mind it, bairns; it is a bad word; skip it.”</p> + +<p>Dame Gaskoin had a son who obtained the situation of a “helper” in the +royal stables. For a slight offence the youth was whipped by the Prince of +Wales, when in a momentary fit of anger. It would appear that the Prince +regretted his conduct, for he promoted the boy to give him redress for the +dressing he had bestowed. Young Gaskoin had the good fortune to be able to +introduce his sister Mary into the service of the princesses. By exemplary +conduct she obtained the esteem of the royal family. The maiden on one +occasion ventured to observe that the rye-bread of Lincolnshire, such as +her mother made, was far superior to that which was used at court. This +caused the request to be made, or rather a command given, that some of the +aforesaid bread should be forwarded as a specimen. The order was complied +with, and gave complete satisfaction. The good schoolmistress was +afterwards desired to send periodically up to town bread for the royal +table.</p> + +<p>During a visit to the metropolis to see her daughter the old lady had the +honour of an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> interview with the princesses. She wore a mob cap of simple +form, which took the fancy of the royal ladies to such a degree that it +was introduced at court under the name of “Gaskoin Mob-Cap.”</p> + +<p>We have little to add, save that the daughter remained in the royal +service, attending especially upon the person of the Princess Amelia, and +the labour and anxiety she underwent in ministering to the princess in her +last illness, combined with sorrow for her death, caused her to follow her +royal mistress to the grave after a short interval. In the cloisters of +St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, is a memorial creditable to the monarch who +erected it, and the humble handmaid whom it commemorates:—</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">King George</span> 3<sup>d</sup><br /> +caused to be interred<br /> +near this place the body of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mary Gaskoin</span>,<br /> +Servant to the late P<sup>ss</sup> Amelia<br /> +And this tablet to be erected<br /> +In testimony of<br /> +His grateful sense of<br /> +the faithful services<br /> +And attachment of<br /> +An amiable young woman<br /> +to his beloved Daughter<br /> +Whom she survived<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>Only three Months<br /> +She died the 19th of February 1811<br /> +Aged 31 years.</p> + +<p>Over the remains of freed slaves we have read several interesting +inscriptions. A running footman was buried in the churchyard of Henbury, +near Bristol. The poor fellow, a negro, as the tradition says, died of +consumption incurred as a consequence of running from London!</p> + +<p class="center">“Here<br /> +Lieth the Body of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Scipio Africanus</span><br /> +Negro Servant to ye Right<br /> +Honourable Charles William<br /> +Earl of Suffolk and Brandon<br /> +who died ye 21 December<br /> +1720, aged 18 years.”</p> + +<p>On the footstone are these lines:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>“I, who was born a Pagan and a Slave,<br /> +Now sweetly sleep, a Christian in my grave.<br /> +What though my hue was dark, my Saviour’s sight<br /> +Shall change this darkness into radiant light.<br /> +Such grace to me my Lord on earth has given<br /> +To recommend me to my Lord in Heaven,<br /> +Whose glorious second coming here I wait<br /> +With saints and angels him to celebrate.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>Our next is from Hillingdon, near Uxbridge:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center">Here lyeth<br /> +<span class="smcap">Toby Plesant</span><br /> +An African Born.</p> + +<p>He was early in life rescued from West Indian Slavery by <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>a Gentleman +of this Parish which he ever gratefully remembered and whom he +continued to serve as a Footman honestly and faithfully to the end of +his Life. He died the 2d of May 1784 Aged about 45 years.</p></div> + +<p>Many visitors to Morecambe pay a pilgrimage to Sambo’s grave. A +correspondent kindly furnishes us with the following particulars of poor +Sambo, who is buried far from his native land. Sunderland Point, he says, +a village on the coast near Lancaster, was, before the advent of +Liverpool, the port for Lancaster, and is credited with having received +the first cargo of West India cotton which reached this country. Some +rather large warehouses were built there about a century ago, now adapted +to fishermen’s cottages for the few fisher folk who still linger about the +little port. Near the ferry landing on the Morecambe side there is a +strange looking tree, which tradition says was raised from a seed brought +from the West Indies, and the natives call it the cotton tree, because +every year it strews the ground with its white blossoms. Close to the +shore, with only a low stone wall dividing it from the restless sea, is a +solitary grave in the corner of a field, which is called “Sambo’s grave.” +Poor Sambo came over to this country with a cotton cargo, fell ill at +Sunderland Point, and died; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> there being no churchyard near, he was +laid in mother earth in an adjoining field. The house is still pointed out +in which the negro died, and some sixty years afterwards it occurred to +Mr. James Watson that the fact of this dark-skinned brother dying so far +from home among strangers was sufficiently pathetic to warrant a memorial. +Accordingly he caused the following to be inscribed on a large stone laid +flat on the grave, which indicates that he was a slave of probably an +English master about a century before the days of negro emancipation in +the colonies:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">Here lies<br /> +<span class="smcap">Poor Sambo</span>,<br /> +A faithful negro, who<br /> +(Attending his master from the West Indies),<br /> +Died on his arrival at Sunderland.</td></tr> +<tr><td>For sixty years the angry winter’s wave<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has, thundering, dashed this bleak and barren shore,</span><br /> +Since Sambo’s head laid in this lonely grave,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lies still, and ne’er will hear their turmoil more.</span><br /> +Full many a sand-bird chirps upon the sod,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And many a moonlight elfin round him trips,</span><br /> +Full many a summer sunbeam warms the clod,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And many a teeming cloud upon him drips.</span><br /> +But still he sleeps, till the awakening sounds<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the archangel’s trump new life impart;</span><br /> +Then the Great Judge, His approbation founds<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not on man’s colour, but his worth of heart.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">H. Bell, del. (1796.)</span></td></tr></table> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> +<h2>Epitaphs on Soldiers and Sailors.</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">We</span> give a few of the many curious epitaphs placed to the memory of +soldiers and sea-faring men. Our initial epitaph is taken from Longnor +churchyard, Staffordshire, and it tells the story of an extended and +eventful life:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>In memory of <span class="smcap">William Billinge</span>, who was Born in a Corn Field at +Fawfield head, in this Parish, in the year 1679. At the age of 23 +years he enlisted into His Majesty’s service under Sir George Rooke, +and was at the taking of the Fortress of Gibralter in 1704. He +afterwards served under the Duke of Marlborough at Ramillies, fought +on the 23rd of May, 1706, where he was wounded by a musket-shot in his +thigh. Afterwards returned to his native country, and with manly +courage defended his sovereign’s rights in the Rebellion in 1715 and +1745. He died within the space of 150 yards of where he was born, and +was interred here the 30th January, 1791, aged 112 years.</p> + +<p>Billeted by death, I quartered here remain,<br /> +And when the trumpet sounds I’ll rise and march again.</p></div> + +<p>On a Chelsea Hospital veteran we have the following interesting epitaph:—</p> + +<p class="center">Here lies <span class="smcap">William Hiseland</span>,<br /> +A Veteran, if ever Soldier was,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>Who merited well a Pension,<br /> +If long service be a merit,<br /> +Having served upwards of the days of Man.<br /> +Ancient, but not superannuated;<br /> +Engaged in a Series of Wars,<br /> +Civil as well as Foreign,<br /> +Yet maimed or worn out by neither.<br /> +His complexion was Fresh and Florid;<br /> +His Health Hale and Hearty;<br /> +His memory Exact and Ready.<br /> +In Stature<br /> +He exceeded the Military Size;<br /> +In Strength<br /> +He surpassed the Prime of Youth;<br /> +And<br /> +What rendered his age still more Patriarchal,<br /> +When above a Hundred Years old<br /> +He took unto him a Wife!<br /> +Read! fellow Soldiers, and reflect<br /> +That there is a Spiritual Warfare,<br /> +As well as a Warfare <i>Temporal</i>.<br /> +Born the 1st August, 1620,<br /> +Died the 17th of February, 1732,<br /> +Aged One Hundred and Twelve.</p> + +<p>At Bremhill, Wiltshire, the following lines are placed to the memory of a +soldier who reached the advanced age of 92 years:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>A poor old soldier shall not lie unknown,<br /> +Without a verse and this recording stone.<br /> +’Twas his, in youth, o’er distant lands to stray,<br /> +Danger and death companions of his way.<br /> +Here, in his native village, stealing age<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>Closed the lone evening of his pilgrimage.<br /> +Speak of the past—of names of high renown,<br /> +Or brave commanders long to dust gone down,<br /> +His look with instant animation glow’d,<br /> +Tho’ ninety winters on his head had snow’d.<br /> +His country, while he lived, a boon supplied,<br /> +And Faith her shield held o’er him when he died.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The following inscription is engraved on a piece of copper affixed to one +of the pillars in Winchester Cathedral:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">A Memoriall.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td>For the renowned Martialist <span class="smcap">Richard Boles</span> of y<sup>e</sup><br /> +Right Worshypful family of the Boles, in<br /> +Linckhorne Sheire: Colonell of a Ridgment of Foot<br /> +of 1300, who for his Gratious King Charles y<sup>e</sup> First<br /> +did wounders at the Battell of Edge Hill; his last<br /> +Action, to omit all others was att Alton in the<br /> +County of Southampton, was surprised by five or<br /> +Six Thousand of the Rebells, who caught him there<br /> +Quartered to fly to the church, with near fourscore<br /> +of his men who there fought them six or seven<br /> +Houers, and then the Rebells breaking in upon them<br /> +he slew with his sword six or seven of them, and<br /> +then was slayne himself, with sixty of his men aboute<br /> +him</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">1641.</td></tr> +<tr><td>His Gratious Sovereign hearing of his death, gave<br /> +him his high comendation in y<sup>s</sup> pationate expression,<br /> +Bring me a moorning scarffe, i have lost<br /> +One of the best Commanders in this Kingdome.<br /> +Alton will tell you of his famous fight<br /> +Which y<sup>s</sup> man made and bade the world good night<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>His verteous life feared not Mortality<br /> +His body must his vertues cannot Die.<br /> +Because his Bloud was there so nobly spent,<br /> +This is his Tomb, that church his monument.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Ricardus Boles in Art. Mag.<br /> +Composuit, Posuitque, Dolens,<br /> +An. Dm. 1689.</td></tr></table> + +<p>On one of the buttresses on the south side of St. Mary’s Church, at +Beverley, is an oval tablet, to commemorate the fate of two Danish +soldiers, who, during their voyage to Hull, to join the service of the +Prince of Orange, in 1689, quarrelled, and having been marched with the +troops to Beverley, during their short stay there sought a private meeting +to settle their differences by the sword. Their melancholy end is recorded +in a doggerel epitaph, of which we give an illustration.</p> + +<p>In the parish registers the following entries occur:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>1689,</td><td>December 16.—</td><td>Daniel Straker, a Danish trooper buried.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top" align="center">"</td> +<td valign="top">December 23.—</td> +<td>Johannes Frederick Bellow, a Danish<br /> +trooper, beheaded for killing the other,<br /> +buried.</td></tr></table> + +<p>“The mode of execution was,” writes the Rev. Jno. Pickford, <span class="smcaplc">M.A.</span>, “it may +be presumed, by a broad two-handed sword, such a one as Sir Walter Scott +has particularly described in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> ‘Anne of Geierstein,’ as used at the +decapitation of Sir Archibald de Hagenbach, and which the executioner is +described as wielding with such address and skill. The Danish culprit was, +like the oppressive knight, probably bound and seated in a chair; but such +swords as those depicted on the tablet could not well have been used for +the purpose, for they are long, narrow in the blade, and perfectly +straight.”</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img04.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">TABLET IN ST. MARY’S CHURCH, BEVERLEY.</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>We have in the diary of Abraham de la Pryme, the Yorkshire antiquary, some +very interesting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> particulars respecting the Danes. Writing in 1689, the +diarist tells us: “Towards the latter end of the aforegoing year, there +landed at Hull about six or seven thousand Danes, all stout fine men, the +best equip’d and disciplin’d of any that was ever seen. They were mighty +godly and religious. You would seldom or never hear an oath or ugly word +come out of their mouths. They had a great many ministers amongst them, +whome they call’d pastours, and every Sunday almost, ith’ afternoon, they +prayed and preach’d as soon as our prayers was done. They sung almost all +their divine service, and every ministre had those that made up a quire +whom the rest follow’d. Then there was a sermon of about half-an-houre’s +length, all <i>memoratim</i>, and then the congregation broke up. When they +administered the sacrament, the ministre goes into the church and caused +notice to be given thereof, then all come before, and he examined them one +by one whether they were worthy to receive or no. If they were he admitted +them, if they were not he writ their names down in a book, and bid them +prepare against the next Sunday. Instead of bread in the sacrament, I +observed that they used wafers about the bigness and thickness of a +sixpence. They held it no sin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> to play at cards upon Sundays, and commonly +did everywhere where they were suffered; for indeed in many places the +people would not abide the same, but took the cards from them. Tho’ they +loved strong drink, yet all the while I was amongst them, which was all +this winter, I never saw above five or six of them drunk.”</p> + +<p>The diarist tells us that the strangers liked this country. It appears +they worked for the farmers, and sold tumblers, cups, spoons, etc., which +they had imported, to the English. They acted in the courthouse a play in +their own language, and realised a good sum of money by their +performances. The design of the piece was “Herod’s Tyranny—The Birth of +Christ—The Coming of the Wise Men.”</p> + +<p>A correspondent states that in Battersea Church there is a handsome +monument to Sir Edward Wynter, a captain in the East India Company’s +service in the reign of Charles II., which records that in India, where he +had passed many years of his life, he was</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>A rare example, and unknown to most,<br /> +Where wealth is gain’d, and conscience is not lost;<br /> +Nor less in martial honour was his name,<br /> +Witness his actions of immortal fame.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>Alone, unharm’d, a tiger he opprest,<br /> +And crush’d to death the monster of a beast.<br /> +Thrice twenty mounted Moors he overthrew,<br /> +Singly, on foot, some wounded, some he slew,<br /> +Dispersed the rest,—what more could Samson do?<br /> +True to his friends, a terror to his foes,<br /> +Here now in peace his honour’d bones repose.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Below, in bas-relief, he is represented struggling with the tiger, both +the combatants appearing in the attitude of wrestlers. He is also depicted +in the performance of the yet more wonderful achievement, the discomfiture +of the “thrice twenty mounted Moors,” who are all flying before him.</p> + +<p>In Yarmouth churchyard, a monumental inscription tells a painful story as +follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>To the memory of <span class="smcap">George Griffiths</span>, of the Shropshire Militia, who died +Feb. 26th, 1807, in consequence of a blow received in a quarrel with +his comrade.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Time flies away as nature on its wing,<br /> +I in a battle died (not for my King).<br /> +Words with my brother soldier did take place,<br /> +Which shameful is, and always brings disgrace.<br /> +Think not the worse of him who doth remain,<br /> +For he as well as I might have been slain.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>We have also from Yarmouth the next example:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>To the memory of <span class="smcap">Isaac Smith</span>, who died March 24th, 1808, and <span class="smcap">Samuel +Bodger</span>, who died April 2nd, 1808, both of the Cambridgeshire Militia.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>The tyrant Death did early us arrest,<br /> +And all the magazines of life possest:<br /> +No more the blood its circling course did run,<br /> +But in the veins like icicles it hung;<br /> +No more the hearts, now void of quickening heat,<br /> +The tuneful march of vital motion beat;<br /> +Stiffness did into every sinew climb,<br /> +And a short death crept cold through every limb.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>The next example is from Bury St. Edmunds:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">William Middleditch</span>,<br /> +Late Serjeant-Major of the Grenadier Guards,<br /> +Died Nov. 13, 1834, aged 53 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>A husband, father, comrade, friend sincere,<br /> +A British soldier brave lies buried here.<br /> +In Spain and Flushing, and at Waterloo,<br /> +He fought to guard our country from the foe;<br /> +His comrades, Britons, who survive him, say<br /> +He acted nobly on that glorious day.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Edward Parr died in 1811, at the age of 38 years, and was buried in North +Scarle churchyard. His epitaph states:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>A soldier once I was, as you may see,<br /> +My King and Country claim no more from me.<br /> +In battle I receiv’d a dreadful ball<br /> +Severe the blow, and yet I did not fall.<br /> +When God commands, we all must die it’s true<br /> +Farewell, dear Wife, Relations all, adieu.</td></tr></table> + +<p>A tablet in Chester Cathedral reads as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">To the Memory of<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span><span class="smcap">John Moore Napier</span><br /> +Captain in Her Majesty’s 62nd Regiment<br /> +Who died of Asiatic Cholera<br /> +in Scinde<br /> +on the 7th of July, 1846<br /> +Aged 29 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>The tomb is no record of high lineage;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His may be traced by his name;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His race was one of soldiers.</span><br /> +Among soldiers he lived; among them he died;<br /> +A soldier falling, where numbers fell with him,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In a barbarous land.</span><br /> +Yet there was none died more generous,<br /> +More daring, more gifted, or more religious.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On his early grave</span><br /> +Fell the tears of stern and hardy men,<br /> +As his had fallen on the graves of others.</td></tr></table> + +<p>A British soldier lies buried under the shadow of the fine old Minster of +Beverley. He died in 1855, and his epitaph states:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>A soldier lieth beneath the sod,<br /> +Who many a field of battle trod:<br /> +When glory call’d, his breast he bar’d,<br /> +And toil and want, and danger shar’d.<br /> +Like him through all thy duties go;<br /> +Waste not thy strength in useless woe,<br /> +Heave thou no sigh and shed no tear,<br /> +A British soldier slumbers here.</td></tr></table> + +<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img05.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">A GRAVESTONE IN BRIGHTON CHURCHYARD.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> </p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>The stirring lives of many female soldiers have furnished facts for +several important historical works, and rich materials for the writers of +romance. We give an illustration of the stone erected by public +subscription in Brighton churchyard over the remains of a notable female +warrior, named Phœbe Hessel. The inscription tells the story of her +long and eventful career. The closing years of her life were cheered by +the liberality of George IV. During a visit to Brighton, when he was +Prince Regent, he met old Phœbe, and was greatly interested in her +history. He ascertained that she was supported by a few benevolent +townsmen, and the kind-hearted Prince questioned her respecting the amount +that would be required to enable her to pass the remainder of her days in +comfort. “Half-a-guinea a week,” said Phœbe Hessel, “will make me as +happy as a princess.” That amount by order of her royal benefactor was +paid to her until the day of her death. She told capital stories, had an +excellent memory, and was in every respect most agreeable company. Her +faculties remained unimpaired to within a few hours of her death. On +September 22nd, 1821, she was visited by a person of some literary taste, +and the following particulars were obtained respecting her life. The +writer states:—“I have seen to-day an extraordinary character in the +person of Phœbe Hessel, a poor woman stated to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> be 108 years of age. It +appears that she was born in March, 1715, and at fifteen formed a strong +attachment to Samuel Golding, a private in the regiment called Kirk’s +Lambs, which was ordered to the West Indies. She determined to follow her +lover, enlisted into the 5th regiment of foot, commanded by General +Pearce, and embarked after him. She served there five years without +discovering herself to anyone. At length they were ordered to Gibraltar. +She was likewise at Montserrat, and would have been in action, but her +regiment did not reach the place till the battle was decided. Her lover +was wounded at Gibraltar and sent to Plymouth; she then waited on the +General’s lady at Gibraltar, disclosed her sex, told her story, and was +immediately sent home. On her arrival, Phœbe went to Samuel Golding in +the hospital, nursed him there, and when he came out, married and lived +with him for twenty years; he had a pension from Chelsea. After Golding’s +death, she married Hessel, has had many children, and has been many years +a widow. Her eldest son was a sailor with Admiral Norris; he afterwards +went to the East Indies, and, if he is now alive, must be nearly seventy +years of age. The rest of the family are dead. At an advanced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> age she +earned a scanty livelihood at Brighton by selling apples and gingerbread +on the Marine Parade.</p> + +<p>“I saw this woman to-day in her bed, to which she is confined from having +lost the use of her limbs. She has even now, old and withered as she is, a +characteristic countenance, and, I should judge from her present +appearance, must have had a fine, though perhaps a masculine style of head +when young. I have seen many a woman at the age of sixty or seventy look +older than she does under the load of 108 years of human life. Her cheeks +are round and seem firm, though ploughed with many a small wrinkle. Her +eyes, though their sight is gone, are large and well formed. As soon as it +was announced that somebody had come to see her, she broke the silence of +her solitary thoughts and spoke. She began in a complaining tone, as if +the remains of a strong and restless spirit were impatient of the prison +of a decaying and weak body. ‘Other people die, and I cannot,’ she said. +Upon exciting her recollection of former days, her energy seemed roused, +and she spoke with emphasis. Her voice was strong for an old person; and I +could easily believe her when, upon being asked if her sex was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> not in +danger of being detected by her voice, she replied that she always had a +strong and manly voice. She appeared to take a pride in having kept her +secret, declaring that she told it to no man, woman, or child, during the +time she was in the army; ‘for you know, Sir, a drunken man and a child +always tell the truth. But,’ said she, ‘I told my secret to the ground. I +dug a hole that would hold a gallon, and whispered it there.’ While I was +with her, the flies annoyed her extremely; she drove them away with a fan, +and said they seemed to smell her out as one that was going to the grave. +She showed me a wound she had received in her elbow by a bayonet. She +lamented the error of her former ways, but excused it by saying, ‘When you +are at Rome, you must do as Rome does.’ When she could not distinctly hear +what was said, she raised herself in the bed and thrust her head forward +with impatient energy. She said when the king saw her, he called her ‘a +jolly old fellow.’ Though blind, she could discern a glimmering light, and +I was told would frequently state the time of day by the effect of light.”</p> + +<p>The next is copied from a time-worn stone in Weem churchyard, near +Aberfeldy, Perthshire:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>In memory of Captain +<span class="smcap">James Carmichael</span>, of Bockland’s Regiment.—Died 25th Nov. 1758:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Where now, O Son of Mars, is Honour’s aim?<br /> +What once thou wast or wished, no more’s thy claim.<br /> +Thy tomb, Carmichael, tells thy Honour’s Roll,<br /> +And man is born, as thee, to be forgot.<br /> +But virtue lives to glaze thy honours o’er,<br /> +And Heaven will smile when brittle stone’s no more.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>The following is inscribed on a gravestone in Fort William Cemetery:—</p> + +<p class="center">Sacred<br /> +To the Memory of<br /> +Captain Patrick Campbell,<br /> +Late of the 42nd Regiment,<br /> +Who died on the xiii of December,<br /> +<span class="smcaplc">MDCCCXVI.</span>,<br /> +Aged eighty-three years,<br /> +A True Highlander,<br /> +A Sincere Friend,<br /> +And the best deerstalker<br /> +Of his day.</p> + +<p>A gravestone in Barwick-in-Elmet, Yorkshire, states:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies, retired from busy scenes,<br /> +A first lieutenant of Marines,<br /> +Who lately lived in gay content<br /> +On board the brave ship “Diligent.”<br /> +Now stripp’d of all his warlike show,<br /> +And laid in box of elm below,<br /> +Confined in earth in narrow borders,<br /> +He rises not till further orders.</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>The next is from Dartmouth churchyard:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Thomas Goldsmith</span>, who died 1714.</p> + +<p>He commanded the “Snap Dragon,” as Privateer belonging to this port, +in the reign of Queen Anne, in which vessel he turned pirate, and +amass’d much riches.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Men that are virtuous serve the Lord;<br /> +And the Devil’s by his friends ador’d;<br /> +And as they merit get a place<br /> +Amidst the bless’d or hellish race;<br /> +Pray then, ye learned clergy show<br /> +Where can this brute, Tom Goldsmith, go?<br /> +Whose life was one continued evil,<br /> +Striving to cheat God, Man, and Devil.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>We find the following at Woodbridge on Joseph Spalding, master mariner, +who departed this life Sept. 2nd, 1796, aged 55:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Embark’d in life’s tempestuous sea, we steer<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">’Midst threatening billows, rocks and shoals;</span><br /> +But Christ by faith, dispels each wavering fear,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And safe secures the anchor of our souls.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>In Selby churchyard, the following is on John Edmonds, master mariner, who +died 5th Aug., 1767:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Tho’ Boreas, with his blustering blasts<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has tost me to and fro,</span><br /> +Yet by the handiwork of God,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I’m here enclosed below.</span><br /> +And in this silent bay I lie<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">With many of our fleet,</span><br /> +Until the day that I set sail<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Saviour Christ to meet.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>Another, on the south side of Selby churchyard:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>The boisterous main I’ve travers’d o’er,<br /> +New seas and lands explored,<br /> +But now at last, I’m anchor’d fast,<br /> +In peace and silence moor’d.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In the churchyard, Selby, near the north porch, in memory of William +Whittaker, mariner, who died 22nd Oct., 1797, we read—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Oft time in danger have I been<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the raging main,</span><br /> +But here in harbour safe at rest<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Free from all human pain.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>Southill Church, Bedfordshire, contains a plain monument to the memory of +Admiral Byng, who was shot at Portsmouth:—</p> + +<p class="center">To the perpetual disgrace of public justice,<br /> +The Honourable <span class="smcap">John Byng</span>, Vice-Admiral of the Blue,<br /> +fell a martyr to political persecution, March 14,<br /> +in the year 1757;<br /> +when bravery and loyalty were insufficient securities for<br /> +the life and honour of a naval officer.</p> + +<p>The following epitaph, inscribed on a stone in Putney churchyard, is +nearly obliterated:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">Lieut. <span class="smcap">Alex. Davidson</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>Royal Navy has Caus’d this Stone<br /> +to be Erected to the Memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Harriot</span> his dearly beloved Wife<br /> +who departed this Life Jan 24 1808<br /> +Aged 38 Years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>I have crossed this Earth’s Equator Just sixteen times<br /> +And in my Country’s cause have brav’d far distant climes<br /> +In Howe’s Trafalgar and several Victories more<br /> +Firm and unmov’d I heard the Fatal Cannons roar<br /> +Trampling in human blood I felt not any fear<br /> +Nor for my Slaughter’d gallant Messmates shed A tear<br /> +But of A dear Wife by Death unhappily beguil’d<br /> +Even the British Sailor must become A child<br /> +Yet when from this Earth God shall my soul unfetter<br /> +I hope we’ll meet in Another World and a better.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Some time ago a correspondent of the <i>Spectator</i> stated: “As you are not +one to despise ‘unconsidered trifles’ when they have merit, perhaps you +will find room for the following epitaph, on a Deal boatman, which I +copied the other day from a tombstone in a churchyard in that town:—</p> + +<p class="center">In memory of <span class="smcap">George Phillpot</span>,<br /> +Who died March 22nd, 1850, aged 74 years.</p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Full many a life he saved<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With his undaunted crew;</span><br /> +<i>He put his trust in Providence</i>,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">And cared not how it blew</span>.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>A hero; his heroic life and deeds, and the philosophy of religion, perfect +both in theory and practice, which inspired them, all described in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> four +lines of graphic and spirited verse! Would not ‘rare Ben’ himself have +acknowledged this a good specimen of ‘what verse can say in a little?’ +Whoever wrote it was a poet ‘with the name.’</p> + +<p>“There is another in the same churchyard which, though weak after the +above, and indeed not uncommon, I fancy, in seaside towns, is at least +sufficiently quaint:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Memory of <span class="smcap">James Epps Buttress</span>, who, in rendering assistance to the +French Schooner, “Vesuvienne,” was drowned, December 27th, 1852, aged +39.</p> + +<p class="center">Though Boreas’ blast and Neptune’s wave<br /> +Did toss me to and fro,<br /> +In spite of both, by God’s decree,<br /> +I harbour here below;<br /> +And here I do at anchor ride<br /> +With many of our fleet,<br /> +Yet once again I must set sail,<br /> +Our Admiral, Christ, to meet.<br /> +Also two sons, who died in infancy, &c.</p></div> + +<p>The ‘human race’ typified by ‘<i>our fleet</i>,’ excites vague reminiscences of +Goethe and Carlyle, and ‘our Admiral Christ’ seems not remotely associated +in sentiment with the ‘We fight that fight for our fair father Christ,’ +and ‘The King will follow Christ and we the King,’ of our grand poet. So +do the highest and the lowest meet. But the heartiness, the vitality, nay, +almost vivacity, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> some of these underground tenantry is surprising. +There is more life in some of our dead folk than in many a living crowd.”</p> + +<p>The following five epitaphs are from Hessle Road Cemetery, Hull:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">William Easton</span>,<br /> +Who was lost at sea,<br /> +In the fishing smack Martha,<br /> +In the gale of January, 1865.<br /> +Aged 30 years.</td></tr></table> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>When through the torn sail the wild tempest is streaming;<br /> +When o’er the dark wave the red lightning is gleaming,<br /> +No hope lends a ray the poor fisher to cherish.<br /> +Oh hear, kind Jesus; save, Lord, or we perish!</td></tr></table> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In affectionate remembrance of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Thomas Crackles</span>,<br /> +Humber Pilot, who was drowned off<br /> +The Lincolnshire Coast,<br /> +During the gale, October 19th, 1869.<br /> +Aged 24 years.</td></tr></table> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>How swift the torrent rolls<br /> +That hastens to the sea;<br /> +How strong the tide that bears our souls<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">On to Eternity.</span></td></tr></table> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In affectionate remembrance of<br /> +<span class="smcap">David Collison</span>,<br /> +Who was drowned in the “Spirit of the Age,”<br /> +Off Scarborough, Jan. 6th, 1864.<br /> +Aged 36 years.</td></tr></table> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>I cannot bend over his grave,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">He sleeps in the secret sea;</span><br /> +And not one gentle whisp’red wave<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can tell that place to me.</span><br /> +Although unseen by human eyes,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And mortal know’d it not;</span><br /> +Yet Christ knows where his body lies,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And angels guard the spot.</span></td></tr></table> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">Robert Pickering</span>, who was<br /> +Drowned from the smack “Satisfaction,”<br /> +On the Dutch coast, May 7, 1869.<br /> +Aged 18 years.</td></tr></table> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>The waters flowed on every side,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No chance was there to save;</span><br /> +At last compelled, he bowed and died,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And found a watery grave.</span></td></tr></table> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In affectionate remembrance of<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Harrison</span>,<br /> +53 years Mariner of Hull,<br /> +Who died October 5th, 1864.<br /> +Aged 70 years.</td></tr></table> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Long time I ploughed the ocean wide,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A life of toil I spent;</span><br /> +But now in harbour safe arrived<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From care and discontent.</span><br /> +<br /> +My anchor’s cast, my sails are furled,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And now I am at rest.</span><br /> +Of all the parts throughout the world,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sailors, this is the best.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>Our next example is from a stone in Castle Street burial-ground, Hull, +which is so fast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> decaying that already some parts of the inscription are +obliterated:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">Sacred<br /> +to the memory<br /> +of<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Walker</span>,<br /> +. . . . . r of the Sloop Janatt,<br /> +. . . . . . . who was unfortunately<br /> +drowned off Flamborough Head,<br /> +17th April, 1823.<br /> +Aged 41 years.<br /> +This stone was Erected by<br /> +his Countrymen in<br /> +remembrance of his Death.</td></tr> +<tr><td>I have left the troubled ocean,<br /> +And now laid down to sleep,<br /> +In hopes I shall set sail<br /> +Our Saviour Christ to meet.</td></tr></table> + +<p>A gravestone in Horncastle churchyard, Lincolnshire, has this epitaph:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>My helm was gone,<br /> +My sails were rent,<br /> +My mast went by the board,<br /> +My hull it struck upon a rock,<br /> +Receive my soul, O Lord!</td></tr></table> + +<p>On a sailor’s gravestone in the burial-ground at Hamilton, we are told:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>The seas he ploughed for twenty years,<br /> +Without the smallest dread or fears:<br /> +And all that time was never known<br /> +To strike upon a bank or stone.</td></tr></table> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> +<h2>Epitaphs on Musicians and Actors.</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">A few</span> epitaphs relating to music and the drama now claim our attention. +Our first example is to be found in the cathedral at Norwich:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here <span class="smcap">William Inglott</span>, organist, doth rest,<br /> +Whose art in musick this Cathedral blest;<br /> +For descant most, for voluntary all,<br /> +He past on organ, song, and virginall.<br /> +He left this life at age of sixty-seven,<br /> +And now ’mongst angels all sings St. in Heaven;<br /> +His fame flies far, his name shall never die,<br /> +See, art and age here crown his memorie.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Non digitis, Inglotte, tuis terrestria tangis,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Tangis nunc digitis organa celsa poli.</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Anno Dom. 1621.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Buried the last day<span class="spacer"> </span>This erected the 15th<br /> +of December, 1621.<span class="spacer"> </span>day of June, 1622.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In Wakefield Parish Church a tablet bears an inscription as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Henry Clemetshaw</span>,<br /> +upwards of fifty years organist<br /> +of this church, who died<br /> +May 7, 1821, aged 68 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Now, like an organ, robb’d of pipes and breath,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>Its keys and stops are useless made by death,<br /> +Tho’ mute and motionless in ruins laid;<br /> +Yet when re-built, by more than mortal aid,<br /> +This instrument, new voiced, and tuned, shall raise,<br /> +To God, its builder, hymns of endless praise.</td></tr></table> + +<p>We copy the following from a monument in Holy Trinity Church, Hull:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">George Lambert</span>,<br /> +late Organist of this Church,<br /> +which office he held upwards of 40 years,<br /> +performing its duties with ability<br /> +and assiduity rarely exceeded,<br /> +affording delight to the lovers<br /> +of Sacred Harmony,<br /> +This Tablet is erected<br /> +by his Musical and private Friends,<br /> +aided by the brothers of the Humber<br /> +and Minerva Lodges of Free Masons of this Town<br /> +(being a member of the latter Lodge),<br /> +That they might place on record<br /> +the high sense they entertained<br /> +of his personal and professional merit.<br /> +He died Feb. 19th, 1838, aged 70 years,<br /> +And his Remains were interred at the<br /> +Parish Church of St. John in Beverley.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Tho’ like an Organ now in ruins laid,<br /> +Its stops disorder’d, and its frame decay’d,<br /> +This instrument ere long new tun’d shall raise<br /> +To God, its Builder, notes of endless praise.</td></tr></table> + +<p>From a churchyard in Wales we obtain the following curious epitaph on an +organ blower:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Under this stone lies <span class="smcap">Meredith Morgan</span>,<br /> +Who blew the bellows of our church organ.<br /> +Tobacco he hated, to smoke most unwilling,<br /> +Yet never so pleased as when <i>pipes</i> he was filling.<br /> +No reflection on him for rude speech could be cast,<br /> +Though he gave our old organ many a blast!<br /> +No puffer was he, though a capital blower;<br /> +He could blow double G., and now lies a note lower.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Our next epitaph records the death of a fiddler, who appears to have been +so much attached to his wife that upon the day of her death he, too, +yielded to the grim tyrant. Of this pair, buried in Flixton churchyard, it +may be truly said: “In life united, and in death not parted.” The +inscription is as follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>To the Memory of <span class="smcap">John Booth</span>, of Flixton, who died 16th March, 1778, +aged 43 years; on the same day and within a few hours of the death of +his wife <span class="smcap">Hannah</span>, who was buried with him in the same grave, leaving +seven children behind them.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Reader, have patience, for a Moment Stay,<br /> +Nor grudge the Tribute of a friendly tear,<br /> +For John, who once made all our Village gay,<br /> +Has taken up his Clay-cold Lodging here.<br /> +<br /> +Suspended now his fiddle lies asleep,<br /> +That once with Musick us’d to charm the Ear.<br /> +Not for his Hannah long reserv’d to weep,<br /> +John yields to Fate with his companion dear.<br /> +<br /> +So tenderly he loved his dearer part,<br /> +His Fondness could not bear a stay behind;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>And Death through Kindness seem’d to throw the dart<br /> +To ease his sorrow, as he knew his mind.<br /> +<br /> +In cheerful Labours all their Time they spent,<br /> +Their happy Lives in Length of Days acquir’d;<br /> +But Hand in Hand to Nature’s God they went,<br /> +And just lay down to sleep when they were tir’d.<br /> +<br /> +The Relicks of this faithful, honest Pair<br /> +One little Space of Mother Earth contains.<br /> +Let Earth protect them with a Mother’s Care,<br /> +And Constant Verdure grace her for her pains.<br /> +<br /> +The Pledges of their tender love remain,<br /> +For seven fine children bless’d their nuptial State.<br /> +Behold them, neighbours! nor behold in vain,<br /> +But heal their Sorrows and their lost Estate.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>In the Old Cemetery, Newport, Monmouthshire, on a Scotch piper, the +following appears:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>To the memory of Mr. <span class="smcap">John Macbeth</span> late piper to His Grace the Duke of +Sutherland, and a native of the Highlands of Scotland:</p> + +<p class="center">Died April 24th, 1852, Aged 46 years.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Far from his native land, beneath this stone,<br /> +Lies <span class="smcap">John Macbeth</span>, in prime of manhood gone;<br /> +A kinder husband never yet did breathe,<br /> +A firmer friend ne’er trod on Albyn’s heath;<br /> +His selfish aims were all in heart and hand,<br /> +To be an honour to his native land,<br /> +As real Scotchmen wish to fall or stand.<br /> +A handsome <i>Gael</i> he was, of splendid form,<br /> +Fit for a siege, or for the Northern Storm.<br /> +Sir Walter Scott remarked at Inverness,<br /> +“How well becomes Macbeth the Highland dress!”<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>His mind was stored with ancient Highland lore;<br /> +Knew Ossian’s songs, and many bards of yore;<br /> +But music was his chief, and soul’s delight.<br /> +And oft he played, with Amphion’s skill and might,<br /> +His Highland pipe, before our Gracious Queen!<br /> +’Mong Ladies gay, and Princesses serene!<br /> +His magic chanter’s strains pour’d o’er their hearts,<br /> +With thrilling rapture soft as Cupid’s darts!<br /> +Like Shakespeare’s witches, scarce they drew the breath,<br /> +But wished, like them, to say, “All hail, Macbeth!”<br /> +The Queen, well pleased, gave him by high command,<br /> +A splendid present from her Royal hand;<br /> +But nothing aye could make him vain or proud,<br /> +He felt alike at Court or in a crowd;<br /> +With high and low his nature was to please,<br /> +Frank with the Peasant, with the Prince at ease.<br /> +Beloved by thousands till his race was run,<br /> +Macbeth had ne’er a foe beneath the sun;<br /> +And now he plays among the Heavenly bands,<br /> +A diamond chanter never made with hands.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>In the church at Ashover, Derbyshire, a tablet contains this +inscription:—</p> + +<p class="center">To the Memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">David Wall</span>,<br /> +whose superior performance on the<br /> +bassoon endeared him to an<br /> +extensive musical acquaintance.<br /> +His social life closed on the<br /> +4th Dec., 1796, in his 57th year.</p> + +<p>The next is copied from a gravestone in Stoney Middleton churchyard:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>In memory of +<span class="smcap">George</span>, the son of <span class="smcap">George</span> and <span class="smcap">Margaret Swift</span>, of Stoney +Middleton, who departed this life August the 21st, 1759, in the 20th year of his age.</p> + +<p>We the Quoir of Singers of this Church have erected this stone.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>He’s gone from us, in more seraphick lays<br /> +In Heaven to chant the Great Jehovah’s praise;<br /> +Again to join him in those courts above,<br /> +Let’s here exalt God’s name with mutual love.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>The following was written in memory of Madame Malibran, who died September +23rd, 1836:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">“The beautiful is vanished, and returns not.”</td></tr> +<tr><td>’Twas but as yesterday, a mighty throng,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose hearts, as one man’s heart, thy power could bow,</span><br /> +Amid loud shoutings hailed thee queen of song,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And twined sweet summer flowers around thy brow;</span><br /> +And those loud shouts have scarcely died away,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And those young flowers but half forgot thy bloom,</span><br /> +When thy fair crown is changed for one of clay—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy boundless empire for a narrow tomb!</span><br /> +Sweet minstrel of the heart, we list in vain<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For music now; <span class="smcaplc">THY</span> melody is o’er;</span><br /> +<i>Fidelio</i> hath ceased o’er hearts to reign,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Somnambula</i> hath slept to wake no more!</span><br /> +Farewell! thy sun of life too soon hath set,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But memory shall reflect its brightness yet.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>Garrick’s epitaph, in Westminster Abbey, reads:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>To paint fair Nature by divine command,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>Her magic pencil in his glowing hand,<br /> +A <span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span> rose; then, to expand his fame<br /> +Wide o’er the breathing world, a <span class="smcap">Garrick</span> came:<br /> +Tho’ sunk in death, the forms the poet drew<br /> +The actor’s genius bade them breathe anew;<br /> +Tho’, like the bard himself, in night they lay,<br /> +Immortal <span class="smcap">Garrick</span> call’d them back to day;<br /> +And till eternity, with power sublime,<br /> +Shall mark the mortal hour of hoary time,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span> and <span class="smcap">Garrick</span>, like twin stars shall shine,<br /> +And earth irradiate with beams divine.</td></tr></table> + +<p>A monument placed in Westminster to the memory of Mrs. Pritchard states:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>This Tablet is here placed by a voluntary subscription of those who +admired and esteemed her. She retired from the stage, of which she had +long been the ornament, in the month of April, 1768; and died at Bath +in the month of August following, in the 57th year of her age.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Her comic vein had every charm to please,<br /> +’Twas nature’s dictates breath’d with nature’s ease;<br /> +Ev’n when her powers sustain’d the tragic load,<br /> +Full, clear, and just, the harmonious accents flow’d,<br /> +And the big passions of her feeling heart<br /> +Burst freely forth, and show’d the mimic art.<br /> +Oft, on the scene, with colours not her own,<br /> +She painted vice, and taught us what to shun;<br /> +One virtuous track her real life pursu’d,<br /> +That nobler part was uniformly good;<br /> +Each duty there to such perfection wrought,<br /> +That, if the precepts fail’d, the example taught.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>On a comedian named John Hippisley, interred in the churchyard of Clifton, +Gloucestershire, we have the following:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>When the Stage heard that death had struck her John,<br /> +Gay Comedy her Sables first put on;<br /> +Laughter lamented that her Fav’rite died,<br /> +And Mirth herself, (’tis strange) laid down and cry’d.<br /> +Wit droop’d his head, e’en Humour seem’d to mourn,<br /> +And solemnly sat pensive o’er his urn.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Garrick’s epitaph to the memory of James Quin, at Bath, is very fine:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>That tongue, which set the table in a roar,<br /> +And charm’d the public ear, is heard no more;<br /> +Closed are those eyes, the harbingers of wit,<br /> +Which spoke, before the tongue, what Shakespeare writ;<br /> +Cold are those hands, which, living, were stretch’d forth,<br /> +At friendship’s call, to succour modest worth.<br /> +Here is <span class="smcap">James Quin</span>! Deign, reader, to be taught,<br /> +Whate’er thy strength of body, force of thought,<br /> +In Nature’s happiest mould however cast,<br /> +“To this complexion thou must come at last.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>Several actors are buried in the churchyard of St. Peter of Mancroft, +Norwich. On Henrietta Maria Bray, who died in 1737, aged sixty years, is +the following epitaph:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here, Reader, you may plainly see,<br /> +That Wit nor Humour here could be<br /> +A Proof against Mortality.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Anne Roberts died in 1743, aged thirty, and on her gravestone is a couplet +as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>The World’s a Stage, at Birth our Plays begun,<br /> +And all find Exits when their Parts are done.</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>The Norwich actors, says Mr. James Hooper, were celebrated in their day, +and their services were in great request. They used to play annually at +the great Stourbridge Fair, at Cambridge, so vividly described by De Foe +in his “Tour through the whole Island of Great Britain” (1722). The +University Dons mustered in force to see the Norwich mummers, and part of +the pit, known as “The Critics’ Row,” was reserved for Dr. Farmer of +Emanuel, and his friends, George Stevens, Malone, and others, who never +thought it <i>infra dig.</i> to applaud rapturously—a circumstance which shows +Puritan Emanuel in a new light.<a name='fna_1' id='fna_1' href='#f_1'><small>[1]</small></a></p> + +<p>In St. Mary’s Church, Beverley, a tablet is placed in remembrance of a +notable Yorkshire actor:—</p> + +<p class="center">In Memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Samuel Butler</span>,<br /> +A poor player that struts and<br /> +frets his hour upon the stage, and<br /> +then is heard no more.<br /> +Obt. June 15th, 1812.<br /> +Æt. 62.</p> + +<p>Butler’s gifted son, Samuel William, was buried in Ardwick Cemetery, +Manchester. A gravestone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> placed to his memory bears the following +eloquent inscription by Charles Swain:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">Here rest the<br /> +mortal remains of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Samuel William Butler</span>,<br /> +Tragedian.<br /> +In him the stage lost a highly-gifted and accomplished actor,<br /> +one by whose tongue the noblest creations<br /> +of the poet found truthful utterance.<br /> +After long and severe suffering he departed<br /> +this life the 17th day of July, in the year of<br /> +our Lord 1845. Aged 41 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Whence this ambition, whence this proud desire,<br /> +This love of fame, this longing to aspire?<br /> +To gather laurels in their greenest bloom,<br /> +To honour life and sanctify the tomb?<br /> +’Tis the Divinity that never dies,<br /> +Which prompts the soul of genius still to rise.<br /> +Though fades the Laurel, leaf by leaf away,<br /> +The soul hath prescience of a fadeless day;<br /> +And God’s eternal promise, like a star,<br /> +From faded hopes still points to hopes afar;<br /> +Where weary hearts for consolation trust,<br /> +And bliss immortal quickens from the dust.<br /> +On this great hope, the painter, actor, bard,<br /> +And all who ever strove for Fame’s reward,<br /> +Must rest at last: and all that earth have trod<br /> +Still need the grace of a forgiving God!</td></tr></table> + +<p>An interesting sketch of the life of Butler, from the pen of John Evans, +is given in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> “Papers of the Manchester Literary Club,” vol. iii., +published 1877.</p> + +<p>In the Necropolis, Glasgow, is a monument representing the stage and +proscenium of a theatre, placed to the memory of John Henry Alexander, of +the Theatre Royal, Glasgow. He was a native of Dunse, Berwickshire, and +was born July 31st, 1796. At an early age, says Dr. Rogers, his parents +removed to Glasgow, where, in his thirteenth year, he was apprenticed to a +hosier. With a remarkable taste for mimicry he practised private +theatricals; and having attracted the notice of the managers of Queen +Street Theatre, he obtained an opportunity of publicly exhibiting his +gifts. In his sixteenth year he adopted the histrionic profession. For +some seasons he was employed in a theatre at Newcastle; he subsequently +performed at Carlisle, and afterwards in the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh. At +Edinburgh his successful impersonations of Dandie Dinmont and other +characters of the Waverley novels gained him the friendship of Sir Walter +Scott. After some changes he accepted the managership of the Dunlop Street +Theatre, Glasgow, of which he became proprietor in 1829. He rebuilt the +structure in 1840; it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> was partially destroyed by fire on the 17th +February, 1849, when sixty-five persons unhappily perished. The shock +which he experienced on this occasion seriously affected his health, and +in 1851 he found it expedient to retire from his profession. He died on +the 15th December, 1851, aged fifty-five. On his tombstone are inscribed +these lines from the pen of Mr. James Hedderwick, the editor of the +<i>Glasgow Citizen</i>:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Fallen is the curtain, the last scene is o’er,<br /> +The favourite actor treads life’s stage no more.<br /> +Oft lavish plaudits from the crowd he drew,<br /> +And laughing eyes confessed his humour true;<br /> +Here fond affection rears this sculptured stone,<br /> +For virtues not enacted, but his own.<br /> +A constancy unshaken unto death,<br /> +A truth unswerving, and a Christian’s faith;<br /> +Who knew him best have cause to mourn him most.<br /> +Oh, weep the man, more than the actor lost!<br /> +Unnumbered parts he play’d yet to the end,<br /> +His best were those of husband, father, friend.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In many collections of epitaphs the following is stated to be inscribed on +a gravestone at Gillingham, but we are informed by the Vicar that no such +epitaph is to be found, nor is there any trace of it having been placed +there at any time:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center">Sacred<br /> +To the memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Thomas Jackson</span>, Comedian,</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>Who was engaged 21st of December, 1741, to play a comic cast of +characters, in this great theatre—the world; for many of which he was +prompted by nature to excel.</p> + +<p>The season being ended, his benefit over, the charges all paid, and +his account closed, he made his exit in the tragedy of Death, on the +17th of March, 1798, in full assurance of being called once more to +rehearsal; where he hopes to find his forfeits all cleared, his cast +of parts bettered, and his situation made agreeable, by Him who paid +the great stock-debt, for the love He bore to performers in general.</p></div> + +<p>The next epitaph was written by Swift on Dicky Pearce, who died 1728, aged +63 years. He was a famous fool, and his name carries us back to the time +when kings and noblemen employed jesters for the delectation of themselves +and their friends. It is from Beckley, and reads as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies the Earl of Suffolk’s Fool,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Men call him <span class="smcap">Dicky Pearce</span>;</span><br /> +His folly serv’d to make men laugh,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When wit and mirth were scarce.</span><br /> +Poor Dick, alas! is dead and gone,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What signifies to cry?</span><br /> +Dicky’s enough are still behind<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To laugh at by and by.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>In our “Historic Romance,” published 1883, by Hamilton, Adams, and Co., +London, will be found an account of “Fools and Jesters of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> English +Sovereigns,” and we therein state that the last recorded instance of a +fool being kept by an English family is that of John Hilton’s fool, +retained at Hilton Castle, Durham, who died in 1746.</p> + +<p>The following epitaph is inscribed on a tombstone in the churchyard of St. +Mary Friars, Shrewsbury, on Cadman, a famous “flyer” on the rope, +immortalised by Hogarth, and who broke his neck descending from a steeple +in Shrewsbury, in 1740.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Let this small monument record the name<br /> +Of <span class="smcap">Cadman</span>, and to future times proclaim<br /> +How, by an attempt to fly from this high spire,<br /> +Across the <i>Sabrine</i> stream, he did acquire<br /> +His fatal end. ’Twas not for want of skill,<br /> +Or courage to perform the task, he fell;<br /> +No, no,—a faulty cord being drawn too tight<br /> +Hurried his soul on high to take her flight,<br /> +Which bid the body here beneath, good-night.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Joe Miller, of facetious memory, next claims our attention. We find it +stated in Chambers’s “Book of Days” (issued 1869) as follows: Miller was +interred in the burial-ground of the parish of St. Clement Danes, in +Portugal Street, where a tombstone was erected to his memory. About ten +years ago that burial-ground, by the removal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> of the mortuary remains, and +the demolition of the monuments, was converted into a site for King’s +College Hospital. Whilst this not unnecessary, yet undesirable, +desecration was in progress, the writer saw Joe’s tombstone lying on the +ground; and being told that it would be broken up and used as materials +for the new building, he took an exact copy of the inscription, which was +as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td class="center">Here lye the Remains of<br /> +Honest <span class="smcap">Jo: Miller</span>,<br /> +who was<br /> +a tender Husband,<br /> +a sincere Friend,<br /> +a facetious Companion,<br /> +and an excellent Comedian.<br /> +He departed this Life the 15th day of<br /> +August 1738, aged 54 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>If humour, wit, and honesty could save<br /> +The humourous, witty, honest, from the grave,<br /> +The grave had not so soon this tenant found,<br /> +Whom honesty, and wit, and humour, crowned;<br /> +Could but esteem, and love preserve our breath,<br /> +And guard us longer from the stroke of Death,<br /> +The stroke of Death on him had later fell,<br /> +Whom all mankind esteemed and loved so well.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">S. Duck</span>,</td></tr> +<tr><td>From respect to social worth,<br /> +mirthful qualities, and histrionic excellence,<br /> +commemorated by poetic talent in humble life.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +The above inscription, which Time<br /> +had nearly obliterated, has been preserved<br /> +and transferred to this Stone, by order of<br /> +Mr. Jarvis Buck, Churchwarden,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcaplc">A.D.</span> 1816.</td></tr></table> + +<p>An interesting sketch of the life of Joe Miller will be found in the “Book +of Days,” vol. ii., page 216, and in the same informing and entertaining +work, the following notes are given respecting the writer of the foregoing +epitaph: “The ‘S. Duck,’ whose name figures as author of the verses on +Miller’s tombstone, and who is alluded to on the same tablet, by Mr. +Churchwarden Buck, as an instance of ‘poetic talent in humble life,’ +deserves a short notice. He was a thresher in the service of a farmer near +Kew, in Surrey. Imbued with an eager desire for learning, he, under most +adverse circumstances, managed to obtain a few books, and educate himself +to a limited degree. Becoming known as a rustic rhymer, he attracted the +attention of Caroline, queen of George II., who, with her accustomed +liberality, settled on him a pension of £30 per annum; she made him a +Yeoman of the Guard, and installed him as keeper of a kind of museum she +had in Richmond Park, called Merlin’s Cave. Not content with these +promotions,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> the generous, but perhaps inconsiderate, queen caused Duck to +be admitted to holy orders, and preferred to the living of Byfleet, in +Surrey, where he became a popular preacher among the lower classes, +chiefly through the novelty of being the ‘Thresher Parson.’ This gave +Swift occasion to write the following quibbling epigram:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>The thresher Duck could o’er the queen prevail;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>The proverb says,—“No fence against a flail.”<br /> +From threshing corn, he turns to thresh his brains,<br /> +For which her Majesty allows him grains;<br /> +Though ’tis confest, that those who ever saw<br /> +His poems, think ’em all not worth a straw.<br /> +Thrice happy Duck! employed in threshing stubble!<br /> +Thy toil is lessened, and thy profits double.</td></tr></table> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img06.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">JOE MILLER’S TOMBSTONE, ST. CLEMENT DANES CHURCHYARD, LONDON.</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>“One would suppose the poor thresher to have been beneath Swift’s notice, +but the provocation was great, and the chastisement, such as it was, +merited. For though few men had ever less pretensions to poetical genius +than Duck, yet the Court party actually set him up as a rival—nay, as +superior—to Pope. And the saddest part of the affair was that Duck, in +his utter simplicity and ignorance of what really constituted poetry, was +led to fancy himself the greatest poet of the age. Consequently, +considering that his genius was neglected, and that he was not rewarded +according to his poetical deserts by being made the clergyman of an +obscure village, he fell into a state of melancholy, which ended in +suicide; affording another to the numerous instances of the very great +difficulty of doing good. If the well-meaning queen had elevated Duck to +the position of farm-bailiff, he might have led a long and happy life, +amongst the scenes and the classes of society in which his youth had +passed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> and thus been spared the pangs of disappointed vanity and +misdirected ambition.”</p> + +<p>Says a thoughtful writer, if truth, perspicuity, wit, gravity, and every +property pertaining to the ancient or modern epitaph, were ever united in +one of terse brevity, it was that made for Burbage, the tragedian, in the +days of Shakespeare:—</p> + +<p class="center">“Exit <span class="smcap">Burbage</span>.”</p> + +<p>Jerrold, perhaps, with that brevity which is the soul of wit, trumped the +above by his anticipatory epitaph on that excellent man and distinguished +historian, Charles Knight:—</p> + +<p class="center">“Good <span class="smcap">Knight</span>.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> +<h2>Epitaphs on Sportsmen.</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">The</span> stirring lives of sportsmen have suggested spirited lines for their +tombstones, as will be seen from the examples we bring under the notice of +our readers.</p> + +<p>The first epitaph is from Morville churchyard, near Bridgnorth, on John +Charlton, Esq., who was for many years Master of the Wheatland Foxhounds, +and died January 20th, 1843, aged 63 years; regretted by all who knew +him:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Of this world’s pleasure I have had my share,<br /> +A few of the sorrows I was doomed to bear.<br /> +How oft have I enjoy’d the noble chase<br /> +Of hounds and foxes striving for the race!<br /> +But hark! the knell of death calls me away,<br /> +So sportsmen, all, farewell! I must obey.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Our next is written on Mills, the huntsman:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies <span class="smcap">John Mills</span>, who over the hills<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pursued the hounds with hallo:</span><br /> +The leap though high, from earth to sky,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The huntsman we must follow.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>A short, rough, but pregnant epitaph is placed over the remains of Robert +Hackett, a keeper of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> Hardwick Park, who died in 1703, and was buried in +Ault Hucknall churchyard:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Long had he chased<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Red and Fallow Deer,</span><br /> +But Death’s cold dart<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At last has fix’d him here.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>George Dixon, a noted fox-hunter, is buried in Luton churchyard, and on +his gravestone the following appears:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Stop, passenger, and thy attention fix on,<br /> +That true-born, honest, fox-hunter, <span class="smcap">George Dixon</span>,<br /> +Who, after eighty years’ unwearied chase,<br /> +Now rests his bones within this hallow’d place.<br /> +A gentle tribute of applause bestow,<br /> +And give him, as you pass, one <i>tally-ho</i>!<br /> +Early to cover, brisk he rode each morn,<br /> +In hopes the <i>brush</i> his temple might adorn;<br /> +The view is now no more, the chase is past,<br /> +And to an earth, poor George is run at last.</td></tr></table> + +<p>On a stone in the graveyard of Mottram the following inscription +appears:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In the memory of <span class="smcap">George Newton</span>,<br /> +of Stalybridge,<br /> +who died August 7th, 1871,<br /> +in the 94th year of his age.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Though he liv’d long, the old man has gone at last,<br /> +No more he’ll hear the huntsman’s stirring blast;<br /> +Though fleet as Reynard in his youthful prime,<br /> +At last he’s yielded to the hand of Time.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span><br /> +Blithe as a lark, dress’d in his coat of green,<br /> +With hounds and horn the old man was seen.<br /> +But ah! Death came, worn out and full of years,<br /> +He died in peace, mourn’d by his offsprings’ tears.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1.5em;">“Let us run with patience the race that is set before us.”</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>In the churchyard of Ecclesfield, may be read the following epitaph:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In memory of <span class="smcap">Thomas Ridge</span>,<br /> +the Ecclesfield huntsman,<br /> +who died 13th day of January, 1871,<br /> +Aged 77 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Though fond of sport, devoted of the chase,<br /> +And with his fellow-hunters first in place,<br /> +He always kept the Lord’s appointed day,<br /> +Never from church or Sunday-school away.<br /> +And now his body rests beneath the sod,<br /> +His soul relying in the love of God.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Of the many epitaphs on sportsmen to be seen in Nottinghamshire, we cull a +few of the choicest. Our first is a literal copy from a weather-worn stone +in Eakring churchyard, placed to the memory of Henry Cartwright, senior +keeper to his Grace the Duke of Kingston for fifty-five years, who died +February 13th, 1773, aged eighty years, ten months, and three weeks:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>My gun discharged, my ball is gone<br /> +My powder’s spent, my work is done,<br /> +those panting deer I have left behind,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>May now have time to Gain their wind,<br /> +Who I have oft times Chass’d them ore<br /> +the burial Plains, but now no more.</td></tr></table> + +<p>We next present particulars of a celebrated deer-stealer. According to a +notice furnished in the “Nottingham Date Book,” the deeds of Tom Booth +were for many years after his death a never-failing subject of +conversational interest in Nottingham. It is stated that no modern +deer-stealer was anything like so popular. Thorsby relates one exploit as +follows:—“In Nottingham Park, at one time, was a favourite fine deer, a +chief ranger, on which Tom and his wily companions had often cast their +eyes; but how to deceive the keeper while they killed it was a task of +difficulty. The night, however, in which they accomplished their +purpose—whether by any settled plan or not is not known—they found the +keeper at watch, as usual, in a certain place in the park. One of them, +therefore, went in an opposite direction in the park, and fired his gun to +make the keeper believe he had shot a deer; upon which away goes the +keeper, in haste, to the spot, which was at a very considerable distance +from the place where the favourite deer was, and near which Tom Booth was +skulking. Tom, waiting a proper time, when he thought the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> keeper at a +sufficient distance for accomplishing his purpose, fired and killed the +deer, and dragged it through the river Leen undiscovered.” Booth was a +stout man, and by trade a whitesmith. The stone marking the place of his +interment is still in good preservation, and stands in St. Nicholas’ +burial-ground, against the southern wall of the church. It bears the +following inscription:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies a marksman, who with art and skill,<br /> +When young and strong, fat bucks and does did kill.<br /> +Now conquered by grim Death (go, reader, tell it!)<br /> +He’s now took leave of powder, gun, and pellet.<br /> +A fatal dart, which in the dark did fly,<br /> +Has laid him down, among the dead to lie.<br /> +If any want to know the poor slave’s name,<br /> +’Tis old <span class="smcap">Tom Booth</span>,—ne’er ask from whence he came.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Old Tom was so highly pleased with the epitaph, which was written before +his death, that he had it engraved on the stone some months before its +services were required. In addition to the epitaph itself, the head-stone +was made to include Booth’s name, etc., and also that of his wife, blank +places being left in each case for the age and time of death. Booth’s +compartment of the stone was in due course properly filled up; but the +widow, disliking the exhibition of her name on a tombstone while living, +resolved that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> such stone should never indicate her resting-place when +dead; she accordingly left an injunction that her body be interred +elsewhere, and the inscription is incomplete to this day.</p> + +<p>Some time before Amos Street, a celebrated Yorkshire huntsman, died, a +stone was obtained, and on it engraved the following lines:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>This is to the memory of <span class="smcap">Old Amos</span>,<br /> +Who was when alive for hunting famous;<br /> +But now his chases are all o’er<br /> +And here he’s earth’d, of years four score.<br /> +Upon this tomb he’s often sat<br /> +And tried to read his epitaph;<br /> +And thou who dost so at this moment<br /> +Shall ere long like him be dormant.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Poor “Old Amos” passed away on October 3rd, 1777, and was buried in +Birstal churchyard. The foregoing inscription may still be read.</p> + +<p>The Rev. R. H. Whitworth tells us: “There is an old monument in the south +aisle of Blidworth Church, to the memory of Thomas Leake, Esq., who was +killed at Blidworth Rocking, in <span class="smcaplc">A.D.</span> 1598. He may be regarded as the last +of the race who sat in Robin Hood’s seat, if those restless Forest Chiefs, +typified under that name, can be supposed ever to have sat at all. Leake +held office under the Crown, but was as wild a freebooter as ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> drew +bow. His character is portrayed in his epitaph:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here rests <span class="smcap">T. Leake</span>, whose vertues weere so knowne<br /> +In all these parts that this engraved stone<br /> +Needs navght relate bvt his vntimely end<br /> +Which was in single fight: wylst youth did lend<br /> +His ayde to valor, hee wth ease orepast<br /> +Many slyght dangers, greater then this last<br /> +Bvt willfvlle fate in these things governs all<br /> +Hee towld ovt threescore years before his fall<br /> +Most of wch tyme he wasted in this wood<br /> +Mvch of his wealth and last of all his blood.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The border of this monument is rudely panelled, each panel having some +forest hunting subject in relief. There are hounds getting scent, and a +hound pursuing an antlered stag; a hunting horn, ribboned; plunging and +flaying knives, a crossbow, a forest-bow, two arrows, and two hunters’ +belts with arrows inserted. This is his register—</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Thomas Leake</span>, esquire, buried the<br /> +4th February, 1598.</p> + +<p>There is a captivating bit of romance connected with Leake’s death, which +occurred at Archer’s Water. Although somewhat ‘provectus in ætate,’ he had +won the affections of the landlady’s daughter, much to the annoyance of +the mother. Archer’s Water was on the old driftroad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> by Blidworth, from +Edinburgh to London, that by which Jeanie Deans travelled, and over which +Dick Turpin rode. Hundreds of thousands of Scotch cattle went by this way +to town, and there was a difficulty connected with a few of them in which +Leake was concerned, and a price being set upon his head, his +mother-in-law, that was to be, betrayed him to two young soldiers anxious +to secure the reward, one of whom was, in the mother’s eyes, the more +favoured lover. Tom was always attended by two magnificent dogs, and went +well armed. Thrown off his guard he left his dogs in an outhouse, and +entering the inn laid aside his weapons, when he was set upon and +overpowered, and, like many better men before him, slain. The name of a +Captain Salmond of the now extinct parish or manor of Salterford is +connected with this transaction. The date of the combat is 2nd February, +being the festival of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple, with which +the highly interesting and historical observance of Blidworth <i>Rocking</i> is +connected. Within the memory of living men, a baby decked with such +flowers as the season afforded was placed in a cradle and carried about +from house to house by an old man, who received a present on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +occasion. As the church is dedicated to St. Mary in connection with the +Purification, the 2nd of February being the Feast Day, this is probably an +interesting reminiscence of some old species of Miracle Play, or +observance connected with the foundation. Anciently people from all +neighbouring counties used to attend this season. Forest games were +played, and amid the attendant licence and confusion, Leake came to his +last grief. Not only in this church does this Ranger of the Blidworth +Wood, for this was his office, possess a memorial. A large cross was +erected, now standing at Fountain Dale, thus inscribed:—</p> + +<p class="center">Hoc crucis fragmen<br /> +Traditum a sylvicolis monumentum<br /> +Loci ubi in singulari certamine<br /> +Gladiator ille insignis<br /> +<span class="smcap">Tho. Leake</span><br /> +Mori occubui<br /> +Anno <span class="smcaplc">MDXCVIII.</span><br /> +Ab antiqua sede remotum<br /> +H. P. C.<br /> +Joannes Downall<br /> +Prid. Non Sext. <span class="smcaplc">MDCCCXXXVI.</span></p> + +<p>What became of the daughter tradition sayeth not. Doubtless she died, as +Tom Leake’s intended bride ought, of grief, and was buried under some +grand old oak in Blidworth Forest.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>Let us direct attention to another class of sportsmen. At Bunney, a +monument is erected to Sir Thomas Parkyns, the well-known wrestler. It +bears four lines in Latin, which have been translated thus:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>At length he falls, the long contest’s o’er,<br /> +And Time has thrown whom none e’er threw before;<br /> +Yet boast not (Time) thy victory, for he<br /> +At last shall rise again and conquer thee.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The next is copied from a stone in St. Michael’s churchyard, Coventry, on +a famous fencing master:—</p> + +<p class="center">To the memory of Mr. <span class="smcap">John Parkes</span>,<br /> +A native of this City<br /> +He was a man of mild disposition,<br /> +A Gladiator by profession;<br /> +Who after having fought 350 battles,<br /> +In the principal parts of Europe,<br /> +With honour and applause,<br /> +At length quitted the stage, sheathed his sword,<br /> +And with Christian resignation,<br /> +Submitted to the Grand Victor<br /> +In the 52nd year of his age<br /> +Anno Domini 1733.</p> + +<p>An old stone bearing the foregoing inscription was replaced by a new one +some years ago at the expense of the late S. Carter, Esq., formerly Member +of Parliament for Coventry. In the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> pages of the <i>Spectator</i> honourable +mention is made of John Parkes.</p> + +<p>In the churchyard of Hanslope is buried Sandy M’Kay, the Scottish giant, +who was killed in a prize fight with Simon Byrne. A headstone bears the +following inscription:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">Sacred to the memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Alex. M’Kay</span>,<br /> +(Late of Glasgow),<br /> +Who died 3rd June, 1834,<br /> +Aged 26 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Strong and athletic was my frame;<br /> +Far from my native home I came,<br /> +And manly fought with Simon Byrne;<br /> +Alas! but lived not to return.<br /> +Reader, take warning of my fate,<br /> +Lest you should rue your case too late;<br /> +If you ever have fought before,<br /> +Determine now to fight no more.</td></tr></table> + +<p>We are informed that Byrne was killed shortly afterwards, whilst engaged +in fighting.</p> + +<p>From the prize-ring let us turn to the more satisfactory amusement of +cricket. In Highgate Cemetery, Lillywhite, the celebrated cricketer, is +buried, and over his remains is placed a monument with the significant +emblem of a wicket being upset with a ball.</p> + +<p>The following lines are said to be copied from a tombstone in a cemetery +near Salisbury:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>I bowl’d, I struck, I caught, I stopp’d,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sure life’s a game of cricket,</span><br /> +I blocked with care, with caution popp’d,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet Death has hit my wicket.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>The tennis ball is introduced in an epitaph placed in St. Michael’s +Church, Coventry. It reads thus:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Here lyes the Body of Captain <span class="smcap">Gervase Scrope</span>, of the Family of +Scropes, of Bolton, in the County of York, who departed this life the +26th day of August, Anno Domini, 1705.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">An Epitaph Written by Himself in the Agony and<br /> +Dolorous Paines of the Gout, and dyed soon<br /> +after.</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies an Old Toss’d Tennis Ball,<br /> +Was Racketted from Spring to Fall<br /> +With so much heat, and so much hast,<br /> +Time’s arm (for shame) grew tyr’d at last,<br /> +Four Kings in Camps he truly seru’d,<br /> +And from his Loyalty ne’r sweru’d.<br /> +Father ruin’d, the Son slighted,<br /> +And from the Crown ne’r requited,<br /> +Loss of Estate, Relations, Blood,<br /> +Was too well Known, but did no good,<br /> +With long Campaigns and paines of th’ Govt,<br /> +He cou’d no longer hold it out:<br /> +Always a restless life he led,<br /> +Never at quiet till quite dead,<br /> +He marry’d in his latter dayes,<br /> +One who exceeds the com’on praise,<br /> +But wanting breath still to make Known<br /> +Her true Affection and his Own,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>Death kindly came, all wants supply’d<br /> +By giuing Rest which life deny’d.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>We conclude this class of epitaphs with a couple of piscatorial examples. +The first is from the churchyard of Hythe:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>His net old fisher George long drew,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shoals upon shoals he caught,</span><br /> +’Till Death came hauling for his due,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And made poor George his draught.</span><br /> +Death fishes on through various shapes,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In vain it is to fret;</span><br /> +Nor fish nor fisherman escapes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Death’s all-enclosing net.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>In the churchyard of Great Yarmouth, under date of 1769, an epitaph runs +thus:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies doomed,<br /> +In this vault so dark,<br /> +A soldier weaver, <i>angler</i>, and clerk;<br /> +Death snatched him hence, and from him took<br /> +His gun, his shuttle, fish-rod, and hook,<br /> +He could not weave, nor fish, nor fight, so then<br /> +He left the world, and faintly cried—Amen.</td></tr></table> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> +<h2>Bacchanalian Epitaphs.</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">Some</span> singular epitaphs are to be found over the remains of men who either +manufactured, dispensed, or loved the social glass. In the churchyard of +Newhaven, Sussex, the following may be seen on the grave of a brewer:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">To the memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Thomas Tipper</span> who<br /> +departed this life May the 14th<br /> +1785 Aged 54 Years.</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Reader</span>, with kind regard this <span class="smcap">Grave</span> survey<br /> +Nor heedless pass where <span class="smcap">Tipper’s</span> ashes lay,<br /> +Honest he was, ingenuous, blunt, and kind;<br /> +And dared do, what few dare do, speak his mind,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Philosophy</span> and <span class="smcap">History</span> well he knew,<br /> +Was versed in <span class="smcap">Physick</span> and in Surgery too,<br /> +The best old <span class="smcap">Stingo</span> he both brewed and sold,<br /> +Nor did one knavish act to get his Gold.<br /> +He played through Life a varied comic part,<br /> +And knew immortal <span class="smcap">Hudibras</span> by heart.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Reader</span>, in real truth, such was the Man,<br /> +Be better, wiser, laugh more if you can.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The next, on John Scott, a Liverpool brewer, is rather rich in puns:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Poor <span class="smcap">John Scott</span> lies buried here;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Although he was both hale and stout</span><br /> +Death stretched him on the bitter bier.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In another world he hops about.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>On a butler in Ollerton churchyard is the following curious epitaph:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Beneath the droppings of this spout,<br /> +Here lies the body once so stout,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Of <span class="smcap">Francis Thompson</span>.</span><br /> +A soul this carcase once possess’d,<br /> +Which of its virtues was caress’d,<br /> +By all who knew the owner best.<br /> +The Ruffords records can declare,<br /> +His action who, for seventy year,<br /> +Both drew and drank its potent beer;<br /> +Fame mentions not in all that time,<br /> +In this great Butler the least crime,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">To stain his reputation.</span><br /> +To envy’s self we now appeal,<br /> +If aught of fault she can reveal,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">To make her declaration.</span><br /> +Here rest good shade, nor hell nor vermin fear,<br /> +Thy virtues guard thy soul, thy body good strong beer.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">He died July 6th, 1739.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>We will next give a few epitaphs on publicans. Our first is from Pannal +churchyard; it is on Joseph Thackerey, who died on the 26th of November, +1791:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>In the year of our Lord 1740<br /> +I came to the Crown;<br /> +In 1791 they laid me down.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The following is from the graveyard of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>Upton-on-Severn, and placed to the +memory of a publican. The lines, it will be seen, are a dexterous weaving +of the spiritual with the temporal:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Beneath this stone, in hope of Zion,<br /> +Doth lie the landlord of the “Lion,”<br /> +His son keeps on the business still,<br /> +Resign’d unto the Heavenly will.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In 1789 passed away the landlady of the “Pig and Whistle,” Greenwich, and +the following lines were inscribed to her memory:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Assign’d by Providence to rule a tap,<br /> +My days pass’d glibly, till an awkward rap,<br /> +Some way, like bankruptcy, impell’d me down.<br /> +But up I got again and shook my gown<br /> +In gamesome gambols, quite as brisk as ever,<br /> +Blithe as the lark and gay as sunny weather;<br /> +Composed with creditors, at five in pound,<br /> +And frolick’d on till laid beneath this ground.<br /> +The debt of nature must, you know, be paid,<br /> +No trust from her—God grant <i>extent in aid</i>.</td></tr></table> + +<p>On an innkeeper in Stockbridge, the next may be seen:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">John Buckett</span>,<br /> +Many year’s landlord of the King’s<br /> +Head Inn, in this Borough,<br /> +Who departed this life Nov. 2, 1802.<br /> +Aged 67 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +And is, alas! poor Buckett gone?<br /> +Farewell, convivial, honest John.<br /> +Oft at the well, by fatal stroke,<br /> +Buckets, like pitchers, must be broke.<br /> +In this same motley shifting scene,<br /> +How various have thy fortunes been!<br /> +Now lifted high—now sinking low.<br /> +To-day thy brim would overflow,<br /> +Thy bounty then would all supply,<br /> +To fill and drink, and leave thee dry;<br /> +To-morrow sunk as in a well,<br /> +Content, unseen, with truth to dwell:<br /> +But high or low, or wet or dry,<br /> +No rotten stave could malice spy.<br /> +Then rise, immortal Buckett, rise,<br /> +And claim thy station in the skies;<br /> +’Twixt Amphora and Pisces shine,<br /> +Still guarding Stockbridge with thy sign.</td></tr></table> + +<p>From the “Sportive Wit; the Muses’ Merriment,” issued in 1656, we extract +the following lines on John Taylor, “the Water Poet,” who was a native of +Gloucester, and died in Phœnix Alley, London, in the 75th year of his +age. You may find him, if the worms have not devoured him, in Covent +Garden churchyard:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies <span class="smcap">John Taylor</span>, without rime or reason,<br /> +For death struck his muse in so cold a season,<br /> +That <span class="smcap">Jack</span> lost the use of his scullers to row:<br /> +The chill pate rascal would not let his boat go.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>Alas, poor <span class="smcap">Jack Taylor</span>! this ’tis to drink ale<br /> +With nutmegs and ginger, with a taste though stale,<br /> +It drencht thee in rimes. Hadst thou been of the pack<br /> +With Draiton and Jonson to quaff off thy sack,<br /> +They’d infus’d thee a genius should ne’er expire,<br /> +And have thaw’d thy muse with elemental fire.<br /> +Yet still, for the honour of thy sprightly wit,<br /> +Since some of thy fancies so handsomely hit.<br /> +The nymphs of the rivers for thy relation<br /> +Sirnamed thee the <i>water-poet</i> of the nation.<br /> +Who can write more of thee let him do’t for me.<br /> +A —— take all rimers, <span class="smcap">Jack Taylor</span>, but thee.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Weep not, reader, if thou canst chuse,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Over the stone of so merry a muse.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>Robert Burns wrote the following epitaph on John Dove, innkeeper, +Mauchline:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies <span class="smcap">Johnny Pigeon</span>:<br /> +What was his religion?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whae’er desires to ken,</span><br /> +To some other warl’<br /> +Maun follow the carl,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For here Johnny had none!</span><br /> +Strong ale was ablution—<br /> +Small beer persecution,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A dram was <i>memento mori</i>;</span><br /> +But a full flowing bowl<br /> +Was the saving of his soul,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And port was celestial glory.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>We extract, from a collection of epitaphs, the following on a publican:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>A jolly landlord once was I,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>And kept the Old King’s Head hard by,<br /> +Sold mead and gin, cider and beer,<br /> +And eke all other kinds of cheer,<br /> +Till Death my license took away,<br /> +And put me in this house of clay:<br /> +A house at which you all must call,<br /> +Sooner or later, great or small.</td></tr></table> + +<p>It is stated in Mr. J. Potter Briscoe’s entertaining volume, +“Nottinghamshire Facts and Fictions,” that in the churchyard of Edwalton +is a gravestone to the memory of Mrs. Freland, a considerable landowner, +who died in 1741; but who, it would appear from the inscription, was a +very free liver, for her memorial says:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>She drank good ale, strong punch and wine,<br /> +And lived to the age of ninety-nine.</td></tr></table> + +<p>A gravestone in Darenth churchyard, near Dartford, bears the following +epitaph:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Oh, the liquor he did love, but never will no more<br /> +For what he lov’d did turn his foe;<br /> +For on the 28th of January 1741, that fatal day,<br /> +The Debt he owed he then did pay.</td></tr></table> + +<p>At Chatham, on a drunkard, good advice is given:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Weep not for him, the warmest tear that’s shed<br /> +Falls unavailing o’er the unconscious dead;<br /> +Take the advice these friendly lines would give,<br /> +Live not to drink, but only drink to live.</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>From Tonbridge churchyard we glean the following:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 6em;">Hail!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">This stone marks the spot</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Where a notorious sot</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Doth lie;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whether at rest or not</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">It matters not</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">To you or I.</span><br /> +Oft to the “Lion” he went to fill his horn,<br /> +Now to the “Grave” he’s gone to get it warm.</td></tr></table> + +<p><i>Beered by public subscription by his hale and stout companions, who +deeply lament his absence.</i></p></div> + +<p>From St. Peter’s Mancroft, Norwich, are the following lines on Sarah +Byfield, who died in 1719, comparing life to a market:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Death is a market where all must meet,<br /> +It’s found in every city, town, and street.<br /> +If we our lives like merchandise could buy,<br /> +The rich would ever live, the poor alone must die.</td></tr></table> + +<p>On a gravestone in the churchyard of Eton, placed to the memory of an +innkeeper, it is stated:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Life’s an inn; my house will shew it:<br /> +I thought so once, but now I know it.<br /> +Man’s life is but a winter’s day;<br /> +Some only breakfast and away;<br /> +Others to dinner stop, and are full fed;<br /> +The oldest man but sups and then to bed:<br /> +Large is his debt who lingers out the day;<br /> +He who goes soonest has the least to pay.</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>Similar epitaphs to the foregoing may be found in many graveyards in this +country. In Micklehurst churchyard, an inscription runs thus:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Life is an Inn, where all men bait,<br /> +The waiter, Time, the landlord, Fate;<br /> +Death is the score by all men due,<br /> +I’ve paid my shot—and so must you.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In the old burial-ground in Castle Street, Hull, on the gravestone of a +boy, a slightly different version of the rhyme appears:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">John</span>, the son of <span class="smcap">John</span> and<br /> +<span class="smcap">Ann Bywater</span>, died 25th January,<br /> +1815, aged 14 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Life’s like an Inn, where Travellers stay,<br /> +Some only breakfast and away;<br /> +Others to dinner stay and are full fed;<br /> +The oldest only sup and go to bed;<br /> +Long is the bill who lingers out the day,<br /> +Who goes the soonest has the least to pay.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The churchyard of Melton Mowbray furnishes another rendering of the +lines:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>This world’s an Inn, and I her guest:<br /> +I’ve eat and drank and took my rest<br /> +With her awhile, and now I pay<br /> +Her lavish bill and go my way.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The foregoing inscriptions, comparing life to a house, remind us of a +curious inscription in Folkestone churchyard:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rebecca Rogers</span>,<br /> +who died Aug. 22, 1688,<br /> +Aged 44 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>A house she hath, it’s made of such good fashion,<br /> +A tenant ne’er shall pay for reparation,<br /> +Nor will her landlord ever raise the rent,<br /> +Or turn her out of doors for non-payment;<br /> +From chimney money, too, this call is free,<br /> +To such a house, who would not tenant be.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In “Chronicles of the Tombs,” by Thomas Joseph Pettigrew, published in +1857, it is stated respecting the foregoing epitaph: “Smoke money or +chimney money is now collected at Battle, in Sussex, each householder +paying one penny to the Lord of the Manor. It is also levied upon the +inhabitants of the New Forest, in Hants, for the right of cutting peat and +turf for fuel. And from ‘Audley’s Companion to the Almanac,’ page 76, we +learn that ‘anciently, even in England, Whitsun farthings, or smoke +farthings, were a composition for offerings made in the Whitsun week, by +every man who occupied a house with a chimney, to the cathedral of the +diocese in which he lived.’ The late Mr. E. B. Price has observed, in +<i>Notes and Queries</i> (Vol. ii., p. 379), that there is a church at +Northampton, upon which is an inscription recording that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> expense of +repairing it was defrayed by a grant of chimney money for, I believe, +seven years, temp. Charles II.”</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img07.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">SIGN OF THE BOAR’S HEAD.</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>In bygone times the “Boar’s Head” was a common tavern sign, and this is +not surprising for the animal figures in English history, poetry, romance +and popular pastimes. The most famous inn bearing the title of the “Boar’s +Head” was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> that in Eastcheap, London. The earliest mention of this tavern +occurs in the testament of William Warden in the days of Richard II., who +gave “all that tenement called the Boar’s Head in Eastcheap to a college +of priests, or chaplain, founded by Sir William Walworth, the Lord Mayor, +in the adjoining church of St. Michael, Crooked Lane.” It was here that +Prince Hal and “honest Jack Falstaff” played their pranks. At the door of +the house until the Great Fire were carved figures of the two worthies. In +the works of Goldsmith will be found a charming chapter called +“Reflections in the Boar’s Head Tavern, Eastcheap”; anyone interested in +this old place should not fail to read it. In his pleasant day-dreams he +forgets the important fact that the original house perished in the Great +Fire. In the Guildhall Library is preserved the stone sign from the old +house, which was pulled down in 1831 to make way for the streets leading +to the new London Bridge. We give a picture of this old-time sign on the +opposite page.</p> + +<p>A famous waiter of this tavern was buried in the graveyard of St. +Michael’s Church, hard by, and a monument of Purbeck stone was placed to +his memory bearing an interesting inscription. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> give a picture of the +gravestone, which has been removed to the yard of St. Magnus the Martyr.</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img08.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">PRESTON’S TOMBSTONE AT ST. MAGNUS THE MARTYR.</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>The next example from Abesford, on an exciseman, is entitled to a place +among Bacchanalian epitaphs:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>No supervisor’s check he fears—<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now no commissioner obeys;</span><br /> +He’s free from cares, entreaties, tears,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all the heavenly oil surveys.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>In the churchyard of North Wingfield, Derbyshire, a gravestone bears the +following inscription:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>In memory of <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>, son of John and Mary Clay, who departed this life +December 16th, 1724, in the 40th year of his age.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>What though no mournful kindred stand<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Around the solemn bier,</span><br /> +No parents wring the trembling hand,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or drop the silent tear.</span><br /> +<br /> +No costly oak adorned with art<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My weary limbs inclose;</span><br /> +No friends impart a winding sheet<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To deck my last repose.</span></td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>The cause of the foregoing curious epitaph is thus explained. Thomas Clay +was a man of intemperate habits, and at the time of his death was indebted +to the village innkeeper, named Adlington, to the amount of twenty pounds. +The publican resolved to seize the body; but the parents of the deceased +carefully kept the door locked until the day appointed for the funeral. As +soon as the door was opened, Adlington rushed into the house, seized the +corpse, and placed it on a form in the open street in front of the +residence of the parents of the departed. Clay’s friends refused to +discharge the publican’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> account. After the body had been exposed for +several days, Adlington committed it to the ground in a <i>bacon chest</i>.</p> + +<p>We conclude this class of epitaphs with the following from Winchester +Cathedral yard:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Thomas Thetcher</span>,<br /> +a Grenadier in the North Regiment of Hants Militia,<br /> +who died of a violent fever contracted by drinking small<br /> +beer when hot<br /> +the 12th of May, 1764, aged 26 years.<br /> +In grateful remembrance of whose universal goodwill<br /> +towards his comrades this stone is placed here at their expense, as<br /> +a small testimony of their regard and concern.</td></tr></table> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here sleeps in peace a Hampshire Grenadier,<br /> +Who caught his death by drinking cold small beer;<br /> +Soldiers, be wise from his untimely fall,<br /> +And when ye’re hot drink strong, or none at all.</td></tr></table> + +<p>This memorial, being decayed, was restored by the officers of the +garrison, <span class="smcaplc">A.D.</span> 1781:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>An honest soldier never is forgot,<br /> +Whether he die by musket or by pot.</td></tr></table> + +<p>This stone was placed by the North Hants Militia, when disembodied at +Winchester, on 26th April, 1802, in consequence of the original stone +being destroyed.</p></div> + + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img09.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">THETCHER’S TOMBSTONE, WINCHESTER.</p> +<p class="center"><i>From a Photo by F. A. Grant.</i></p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> +<h2>Epitaphs on Parish Clerks and Sextons.</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">Not</span> a few of our old parish clerks and sextons were eccentric characters, +and it is not therefore surprising that their epitaphs are amongst the +most curious of the many strange examples to be found in the quiet +resting-places of the departed.</p> + +<p>In the churchyard of Crayford is a gravestone bearing the following +inscription:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center">Here lieth the body<br /> +of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Peter Isnell</span>,<br /> +Thirty years clerk of this Parish.<br /> +He lived respected as a pious and mirthful man, and died on his<br /> +way to church to assist at a wedding,<br /> +On the 31st day of March, 1811,<br /> +Aged 70 years.</p> + +<p>The inhabitants of Crayford have raised this stone to his cheerful +memory, and as a tribute to his long and faithful services.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>The life of this clerk, just three score and ten,<br /> +Nearly half of which time he had sung out “Amen;”<br /> +In youth he was married, like other young men,<br /> +But his wife died one day, so he chanted “Amen.”<br /> +A second he took, she departed—what then?<br /> +He married and buried a third with “Amen.”<br /> +Thus his joys and his sorrows were treble, but then<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>His voice was deep bass, as he sung out “Amen.”<br /> +On the horn he could blow as well as most men;<br /> +So his horn was exalted to blowing “Amen.”<br /> +But he lost all his wind after three score and ten,<br /> +And here, with three wives, he awaits till again<br /> +The trumpet shall rouse him to sing out “Amen.”</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>In addition to being parish clerk, Frank Raw, of Selby, Yorkshire, was a +gravestone cutter, for we are told:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies the body of poor <span class="smcap">Frank Raw</span>,<br /> +Parish clerk and gravestone cutter,<br /> +And this is writ to let you know<br /> +What Frank for others used to do,<br /> +Is now for Frank done by another.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The next epitaph, placed to the memory of a parish clerk and +bellows-maker, was formerly in the old church of All Saints’, +Newcastle-on-Tyne:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies <span class="smcap">Robert Wallas</span>,<br /> +The King of Good Fellows,<br /> +Clerk of All-Hallows,<br /> +And maker of bellows.</td></tr></table> + +<p>On a slate headstone, near the south porch of Bingham Church, +Nottinghamshire, is inscribed:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Beneath this stone lies <span class="smcap">Thomas Hart</span>,<br /> +Years fifty-eight he took the part<br /> +Of Parish Clerk: few did excel.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>Correct he read and sung so well;<br /> +His words distinct, his voice so clear,<br /> +Till eighteen hundred and fiftieth year.<br /> +Death cut the brittle thread, and then<br /> +A period put to his Amen.<br /> +At eighty-two his breath resigned,<br /> +To meet the fate of all mankind;<br /> +The third of May his soul took flight<br /> +To mansions of eternal light.<br /> +The bell for him with awful tone<br /> +His body summoned to the tomb.<br /> +Oh! may his sins be all forgiv’n<br /> +And Christ receive him into heav’n.</td></tr></table> + +<p>From the churchyard of Ratcliffe-on-Soar, we have a curious epitaph to the +memory of Robert Smith, who died in 1782, aged 82 years:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Fifty-five years it was, and something more,<br /> +Clerk of this parish he the office bore,<br /> +And in that space, ’tis awful to declare,<br /> +Two generations buried by him were!</td></tr></table> + +<p>In a note by Mr. Llewellyn Jewitt, <span class="smcaplc">F.S.A.</span>, we are told that with the +clerkship of Bakewell Church, the “vocal powers” of its holders appear to +have been to some extent hereditary, if we may judge by the inscriptions +recording the deaths and the abilities of two members of the family of +Roe, which are found on gravestones in the churchyard there. The first of +these, recording the death of Samuel Roe, is as under:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">To<br /> +The memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Samuel Roe</span>,<br /> +Clerk<br /> +Of the Parish Church of Bakewell,<br /> +Which office<br /> +He filled thirty-five years<br /> +With credit to himself<br /> +And satisfaction to the Inhabitants.<br /> +His natural powers of voice,<br /> +In clearness, strength, and sweetness<br /> +Were altogether unequalled.<br /> +He died October 31st, 1792,<br /> +Aged 70 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td> + <td align="center">died</td> + <td align="center">aged</td></tr> +<tr><td class="br"><span class="smcap">Sarah</span> his third wife</td> + <td align="center" class="br">1811</td> + <td align="center">77</td></tr> +<tr><td class="br"><span class="smcap">Charles</span> their son</td> + <td class="br" align="center">1810</td> + <td align="center">52</td></tr></table> + +<p>He had three wives, Millicent, who died in 1745, aged 22; Dorothy, who +died 1754, aged 28; and Sarah, who survived him and died in 1811, at the +age of 77. A gravestone records the death of his first two wives as +follows, and the third is commemorated in the above inscription.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Millicent</span>,<br /> +Wife of Saml Roe,<br /> +She died Sepr 16th, 1745, aged 22.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Dorothy</span>,<br /> +Wife of Saml Roe,<br /> +She died Novr 13th, 1754, aged 28.</p> + +<p>Respecting the above-mentioned Samuel Roe,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> a contributor to the +<i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i> wrote, on February 13th, 1794:—</p> + +<p>“Mr. Urban,</p> + +<p>“It was with much concern that I read the epitaph upon Mr. Roe, in your +last volume, p. 1192. Upon a little tour which I made in Derbyshire, in +1789, I met with that worthy and very intelligent man at Bakewell, and, in +the course of my antiquarian researches there, derived no inconsiderable +assistance from his zeal and civility. If he did not possess the learning +of his namesake, your old and valuable correspondent, I will venture to +declare that he was not less influenced by a love and veneration for +antiquity, many proofs of which he had given by his care and attention to +the monuments in the church, which were committed to his charge; for he +united the characters of sexton, clerk, singing-master, will-maker, and +school-master. Finding that I was quite alone, he requested permission to +wait upon me at the inn in the evening, urging, as a reason for this +request, that he must be exceedingly gratified by the conversation of a +gentleman who could read the characters upon the monument of Vernon, the +founder of Haddon House, a treat he had not met with for many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> years. +After a very pleasant gossip we parted, but not till my honest friend had, +after some apparent struggle, begged of me to indulge him with my name.”</p> + +<p>To his careful attention is to be attributed the preservation of the +curious Vernon and other monuments in the church, over which, in some +instances, he placed wooden framework to keep off the rough hands and +rougher knives of the boys and young men of the congregation. He also +watched with special care over the Wendesley tomb, and even took careful +rubbings of the inscriptions.</p> + +<p>While speaking of this Mr. Roe, it may be well to put the readers of this +work in possession of an interesting fact in connection with the name of +Roe, or Row. The writer above, in his letter to Mr. Urban, says, “If he +did not possess the learning of his namesake, your old and valued +correspondent,” etc. By this he means “T. Row,” whose contributions to the +<i>Gent.’s Mag.</i> were very numerous and interesting. The writer under this +signature was the Rev. Samuel Pegge, rector of Whittington, and the +letters forming this pseudonym were the initials of the words, T[he] +R[ector] O[f] W[hittington].</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>Philip Roe, who succeeded his father (Samuel Roe) as parish clerk of +Bakewell, was his son by his third wife. He was born in 1763, and +succeeded his father in full parochial honours in 1792, having, we +believe, for some time previously acted as his deputy. He died in 1815, +aged 52 years, and was buried with the other members of the family. The +following curious inscription appears on his gravestone:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">Erected<br /> +In remembrance of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Philip Roe</span><br /> +who died 12th September, 1815<br /> +Aged 52 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>The vocal Powers here let us mark<br /> +Of Philip our late Parish Clerk<br /> +In Church none ever heard a Layman<br /> +With a clearer Voice say “Amen!”<br /> +Who now with Hallelujahs Sound<br /> +Like him can make the roofs rebound?<br /> +The Choir lament his Choral Tones<br /> +The Town—so soon Here lie his Bones.<br /> +“Sleep undisturb’d within thy peaceful shrine<br /> +Till Angels wake thee with such notes as thine.”</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Also of <span class="smcap">Sarah</span> his wife<br /> +who departed this life on the<br /> +24th of January 1817<br /> +aged 51 years.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Cuthbert Bede, <span class="smcaplc">B.A.</span>, says, “As a boy I often +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> attended the service at +Belbroughton Church, Worcestershire, where the parish clerk was Mr. +Osborne, tailor. His family had there been parish clerks and tailors since +the time of Henry the Eighth, and were lineally descended from William +FitzOsborne, who, in the twelfth century, had been deprived by Ralph +FitzHerbert of his right to the manor of Bellem, in the parish of +Belbroughton. Often have I stood in the picturesque churchyard of +Wolverley, Worcestershire, by the grave of its old parish clerk, whom I +well remember, old Thomas Worrall, the inscription on whose monument is as +follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">Sacred to the Memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Thomas Worrall</span>,<br /> +Parish Clerk of Wolverley for a period of forty-seven years.<br /> +Died <span class="smcaplc">A.D.</span> 1854, February 23rd.<br /> +Aged 76 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>He served with faithfulness in humble sphere,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As one who could his talent well employ.</span><br /> +Hope that when Christ his Lord shall re-appear,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He may be bidden to His Master’s joy.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>This tombstone was erected to the memory of the deceased by a few of +the parishioners in testimony of his worth.</p> + +<p class="center">April, 1855.<span class="spacer"> </span>Charles R. Somers Cocks, vicar.</p></div> + +<p>It may be noted of this worthy parish clerk that, with the exception of a +week or two before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> his death, he was never once absent from his Sunday +and week-day duties in the forty-seven years during which he held office. +He succeeded his father, James Worrall, who died in 1806, aged +seventy-nine, after being parish clerk of Wolverley for thirty years. His +tombstone, near to that of his son, was erected ‘to record his worth both +in his public and private character, and as a mark of personal +esteem—h.l.F.H.& W.C.p.c.’ I am told that these initials stand for F. +Hurtle and the Rev. William Callow, and that the latter was the author of +the following lines inscribed on the monument, which are well worth +quoting:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>If courtly bards adorn each statesman’s bust,<br /> +And strew their laurels o’er each warrior’s dust<br /> +Alike immortalise, as good and great,<br /> +Him who enslaved as him who saved the state,<br /> +Surely the muse (a rustic minstrel) may<br /> +Drop one wild flower upon a poor man’s clay;<br /> +This artless tribute to his mem’ry give<br /> +Whose life was such as heroes seldom live.<br /> +In worldly knowledge, poor indeed his store—<br /> +He knew the village and he scarce knew more.<br /> +The worth of heavenly truth he justly knew—<br /> +In faith a Christian, and in practice too.<br /> +Yes, here lies one, excel him ye who can;<br /> +Go! imitate the virtues of that man!”</td></tr></table> + +<p>A memorial record on the church of Holy Trinity, Hull, is as follows:—</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +In memory of <span class="smcap">John Stone</span><br /> +Parish Clerk 41 years<br /> +Excellent in his way<br /> +Buried here 26 May 1727<br /> +Aged 78.</p> + +<p>First amongst notable sextons is the name of Old Scarlett, who died July +2, 1591, at the good old age of ninety-eight, and occupied for a long time +the position of sexton of Peterborough Cathedral. He buried two +generations of his fellow-creatures. A portrait of him, placed at the west +end of that noble church, has perpetuated his fame, and caused him to be +introduced in effigy in various publications. Says a writer in the “Book +of Days”: “And what a lively effigy—short, stout, hardy, and +self-complacent, perfectly satisfied, and perhaps even proud, of his +profession, and content to be exhibited with all its insignia about him! +Two queens had passed through his hands into that bed which gives a +lasting rest to queens and to peasants alike. An officer of Death, who had +so long defied his principal, could not but have made some impression on +the minds of bishop, dean, prebends, and other magnates of the Cathedral, +and hence, as we may suppose, the erection of this lively portraiture of +the old man, which is believed to have been only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> once renewed since it +was first put up. Dr. Dibdin, who last copied it, tells us that ‘Old +Scarlett’s jacket and trunkhose are of a brownish red, his stockings blue, +his shoes black, tied with blue ribbons, and the soles of his feet red. +The cap upon his head is red, and so also is the ground of the coat +armour.’”</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img10.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">OLD SCARLETT, THE PETERBOROUGH SEXTON.</p> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>The following lines below his portrait are characteristic of his age:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>You see <span class="smcap">Old Scarlett’s</span> picture stand on hie;<br /> +But at your feet here doth his body lye.<br /> +His gravestone doth his age and death-time shew,<br /> +His office by heis token[s] you may know.<br /> +Second to none for strength and sturdy lymm,<br /> +A scare-babe mighty voice, with visage grim;<br /> +He had inter’d two queenes within this place,<br /> +And this townes householders in his life’s space<br /> +Twice over; but at length his own time came<br /> +What he for others did, for him the same<br /> +Was done: no doubt his soule doth live for aye,<br /> +In heaven, though his body clad in clay.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The first of the queens interred by Scarlett was Catherine, the divorced +wife of Henry VIII., who died in 1535, at Kimbolton Castle, in +Huntingdonshire. The second was Mary, Queen of Scots, who was beheaded at +Fotheringay in 1587, and first interred here, though subsequently +transported to Westminster Abbey.</p> + +<p>Our next example is from Bingley, Yorkshire:—</p> + +<p class="center">In memory of <span class="smcap">Hezekiah Briggs</span>, who died August 5th, 1844, in<br /> +the 80th year of his age. He was sexton at this church<br /> +43 years, and interred upwards of 7000 corpses.</p> + +<p>[Here the names of his wife and several children are given.]</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies an old ringer, beneath the cold clay,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>Who has rung many peals both for serious and gay;<br /> +Through Grandsire and Trebles with ease he could range,<br /> +Till death called a Bob, which brought round the last change.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">For all the village came to him</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">When they had need to call;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">His counsel free to all was given,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">For he was kind to all.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ring on, ring on, sweet Sabbath bell,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Still kind to me thy matins swell,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And when from earthly things I part,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Sigh o’er my grave, and lull my heart.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>An upright stone in the burial-ground at Hartwith Chapel, in Nidderdale, +Yorkshire, bears the following inscription:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In memory of <span class="smcap">William Darnbrough</span>, who for the last forty<br /> +years of his life was sexton of this chapel. He died<br /> +October 3rd, 1846, in the one hundredth year<br /> +of his age.<br /> +<br /> +“Thou shalt go to thy fathers in peace; thou shalt be buried<br /> +in a good old age.”—Genesis <span class="smcaplc">XV.</span>, 15.</td></tr> +<tr><td>The graves around for many a year<br /> +Were dug by him who slumbers here,—<br /> +Till worn with age, he dropped his spade,<br /> +And in the dust his bones were laid.<br /> +<br /> +As he now, mouldering, shares the doom<br /> +Of those he buried in the tomb;<br /> +So shall he, too, with them arise,<br /> +To share the judgment of the skies.</td></tr></table> + +<p>An examination of Pateley Bridge Church registers proves that Darnbrough +was one hundred and two years of age.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>An epitaph from Saddleworth, Yorkshire, tells us:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Here was interred the body of <span class="smcap">John Broadbent</span>, Sexton, who departed +this life, August 3rd, 1769, in the 73rd year of his age.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Forty-eight years, strange to tell,<br /> +He bore the bier and toll’d the bell,<br /> +And faithfully discharged his trust,<br /> +In “earth to earth” and “dust to dust.”<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Cease to lament,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His life is spent,</span><br /> +The grave is still his element;<br /> +His old friend Death knew ’twas his sphere,<br /> +So kindly laid the sexton here.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>At Rothwell, near Leeds, an old sexton is buried in the church porch. A +monumental inscription runs thus:—</p> + +<p class="center">In memory of <span class="smcap">Thomas Flockton</span>, Sexton 59 years, buried<br /> +23rd day of February, 1783, aged 78 years.</p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies within this porch so calm,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old Thomas. Pray sound his knell,</span><br /> +Who thought no song was like a psalm—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No music like a bell.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>At Darlington, there is a Latin epitaph over the remains of Richard +Preston, which has been freely translated as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Under this marble are depos’d<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poor <span class="smcap">Preston’s</span> sad remains.</span><br /> +Alas! too true for light-rob’d jest<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To sing in playful strains.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span><br /> +Ye dread possessors of the grave,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who feed on others’ woe,</span><br /> +Abstain from Richard’s small remains,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And grateful pity shew;</span><br /> +<br /> +For many a weighty corpse he gave<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To you with liberal hand;</span><br /> +Then sure his little body may<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some small respect command.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>The gravestone bears the date of 1765.</p> + +<p>Further examples might be included, but we have given sufficient to show +the varied and curious epitaphs placed to the memory of parish clerks and +sextons.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> +<h2>Punning Epitaphs.</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">Puns</span> in epitaphs have been very common, and may be found in Greek and +Latin, and still more plentifully in our English compositions. In the +French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, and other languages, examples +occur. Empedocles wrote an epitaph containing the paronomasia, or pun, on +a physician named Pausanias, and it has by Merivale been happily +translated:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Pausanias</span>—not so nam’d without a cause,<br /> +As one who oft has giv’n to pain a pause,<br /> +Blest son of Æsculapius, good and wise,<br /> +Here, in his native Gela, buried lies;<br /> +Who many a wretch once rescu’d by his charms<br /> +From dark Persephone’s constraining arms.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In Holy Trinity Church, Hull, is an example of a punning epitaph. It is on +a slab in the floor of the north aisle of the nave, to the memory of “The +Worshipful Joseph Field, twice Mayor of this town, and Merchant +Adventurer.” He died in 1627, aged 63 years:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here is a Field sown, that at length must sprout,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>And ’gainst the ripening harvest’s time break out,<br /> +When to that Husband it a crop shall yield<br /> +Who first did dress and till this new-sown Field;<br /> +Yet ere this Field you see this crop can give,<br /> +The seed first dies, that it again may live.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Sit Deus amicus,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Sanctis, vel in Sepulchris spes est.</i></span></td></tr></table> + +<p>On Bishop Theophilus Field, in Hereford Cathedral, ob. 1636, is another +specimen:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>The Sun that light unto three churches gave<br /> +Is set; this Field is buried in a grave.<br /> +This Sun shall rise, this Field renew his flowers,<br /> +This sweetness breathe for ages, not for hours.</td></tr></table> + +<p>He was successively Bishop of Llandaff, St. Davids, and Hereford.</p> + +<p>The following rather singular epitaph, with a play upon the name, occurs +in the chancel of Checkley Church, Staffordshire:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>To the Memory of the Reverend <span class="smcap">James Whitehall</span>, Rector of this place +twenty and five years, who departed this life the second daie of +March, 1644.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>White was his name, and whiter than this stone.<br /> +In hope of joyfole resurrection<br /> +Here lies that orthodox, that grave divine,<br /> +In wisdom trve, vertve did soe clearly shine;<br /> +One that could live and die as he hath done<br /> +Suffer’d not death but a translation.<br /> +Bvt ovt of charitie I’ll speake no more,<br /> +Lest his friends pine with sighs, with teares the poor.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>From Hornsea Church we have the epitaph of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> Will Day, gentleman; he lived +thirty-four years, died May 22nd, 1616:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>If that man’s life be likened to a day,<br /> +One here interr’d in youth did lose a day,<br /> +By death, and yet no loss to him at all,<br /> +For he a threefold day gain’d by his fall;<br /> +One day of rest is bliss celestial.<br /> +Two days on earth by gifts terrestryall—<br /> +Three pounds at Christmas, three at Easter Day,<br /> +Given to the poure until the world’s last day,<br /> +This was no cause to heaven; but, consequent,<br /> +Who thither will, must tread the steps he went.<br /> +For why? Faith, Hope, and Christian Charity,<br /> +Perfect the house framed for eternity.</td></tr></table> + +<p>On the east wall of the chancel of Kettlethorpe Church, co. Lincoln, is a +tablet to the memory of “Johannes Becke, quondam Rector istius ecclesiæ,” +who died 1597, with the following lines in old English characters:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>I am a <span class="smcap">Becke</span>, or river as you know,<br /> +And wat’rd here ye church, ye schole, ye pore,<br /> +While God did make my springes here for to flow:<br /> +But now my fountain stopt, it runs no more;<br /> +From Church and schole mi life ys now bereft,<br /> +But no ye pore four poundes I yearly left.</td></tr></table> + +<p>We may add that the stream of his charity still flows, and is yearly +distributed amongst the poor of Kettlethorpe.</p> + +<p>Bishop Sanderson, in his “Survey of Lincoln<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> Cathedral,” gives the +following epitaph on Dr. William Cole, Dean of Lincoln, who died in 1600. +The upper part of the stone, with Dr. Cole’s arms, is, or was lately, in +the Cathedral, but the epitaph has been lost:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Reader, behold the pious pattern here<br /> +Of true devotion and of holy fear.<br /> +He sought God’s glory and the churches good.<br /> +Idle idol worship he withstood.<br /> +Yet dyed in peace, whose body here doth lie<br /> +In expectation of eternity.<br /> +And when the latter trump of heaven shall blow,<br /> +Cole, now rak’d up in ashes, then shall glow.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Here is another from Lincoln Cathedral, on Dr. Otwell Hill:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>’Tis <span class="smcap">Otwell Hill</span>, a holy Hill,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And truly, sooth to say,</span><br /> +Upon this HILL be praised still<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lord both night and day.</span><br /> +Upon this Hill, this <span class="smcap">Hill</span> did cry<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aloud the scripture letter,</span><br /> +And strove your wicked villains by<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Good conduct to make better.</span><br /> +And now this <span class="smcap">Hill</span>, tho’ under stones,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has the Lord’s Hill to lie on;</span><br /> +For Lincoln Hill has got his bones,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His soul the Hill of Zion.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>The <i>Guardian</i>, for 3rd Dec., 1873, gives the following epitaph as being +in Lillington Church,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> Dorset, on the grave of a man named Cole, who died +in 1669:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Reader, you have within this grave<br /> +A Cole rak’d up in dust.<br /> +His courteous Fate saw it was Late,<br /> +And that to Bed he must.<br /> +Soe all was swept up to be Kept<br /> +Alive until the day<br /> +The Trump shall blow it up and shew<br /> +The Cole but sleeping lay.<br /> +Then do not doubt the Coles not out<br /> +Though it in ashes lyes,<br /> +That little sparke now in the Darke<br /> +Will like the Phœnyx rise.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Our next example was inscribed in Peterborough Cathedral, to the memory of +Sir Richard Worme, ob. 1589:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Does Worm eat Worme? Knight Worme this truth confirms,<br /> +For here, with worms, lies Worme, a dish for worms.<br /> +Does worm eat Worme? sure Worme will this deny,<br /> +For Worme with worms, a dish for worms don’t lie.<br /> +’Tis so, and ’tis not so, for free from worms<br /> +’Tis certain Worme is blest without his worms.</td></tr></table> + +<p>On a person named Cave, at Barrow-on-Soar, Leicestershire, we have the +following epitaph:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here, in this Grave, there lies a Cave.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We call a Cave a Grave:</span><br /> +If Cave be Grave, and Grave be Cave,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then, reader, judge, I crave.</span><br /> +Whether doth Cave here lie in Grave,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or Grave here lie in Cave;</span><br /> +If Grave in Cave here buried lie,<br /> +Then Grave, where is thy victory?<br /> +Go reader, and report, here lies a Cave,<br /> +Who conquers Death, and buries his own Grave.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In Bletchley, ob. 1615, on Mrs. Rose Sparke:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Sixty-eight years a fragrant Rose she lasted,<br /> +Noe vile reproach her virtues ever blasted;<br /> +Her autumn past expects a glorious springe,<br /> +A second better life more flourishing.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Hearken unto me, ye holy children, and bud forth as a Rose.—Eccles. +xxxix., 13.</p></div> + +<p>From several punning epitaphs on the name of Rose we give one more +specimen. It is from Tawton Church, ob. 1652, on Rose Dart:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>A Rose springing Branch no sooner bloom’d,<br /> +By Death’s impartial Dart lyes here entombed.<br /> +Tho’ wither’d be the Bud, the stock relyes<br /> +On Christ, both sure by Faith and Hope to rise.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In Barnstaple Church, ob. 1627, on Grace Medford, is an epitaph as +follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Scarce seven years old this Grace in glory ends,<br /> +Nature condemns, but Grace the change commends;<br /> +For Gracious children, tho’ they die at seven,<br /> +Are heirs-apparent to the Court of Heaven.<br /> +Then grudge not nature at so short a Race;<br /> +Tho’ short, yet sweet, for surely ’twas God’s Grace.</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>On a punster the following was written:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Beneath the gravel and these stones,<br /> +Lies poor <span class="smcap">Jack Tiffey’s</span> skin and bones;<br /> +His flesh I oft have heard him say,<br /> +He hoped in time would make good hay;<br /> +Quoth I, “How can that come to pass?”<br /> +And he replied, “All flesh is grass!”</td></tr></table> + + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> +<h2>Manxland Epitaphs.</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">Several</span> of the churchyards in the Isle of Man contain monuments of more +than local interest, and will repay a careful inspection. The ancient +graveyard of Kirk Braddan, surrounded with beautiful trees, and situated +in a secluded spot not far distant from the busy town of Douglas, is the +most celebrated. It not only contains numerous modern tombstones of +unusual interest, but some Runic monuments of importance which have given +rise to some strange stories, and suggested a theme for the poet and a +study for the antiquary.</p> + +<p>An old time-worn stone near the chief door of the church attracts much +attention. It states:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Here underlyeth ye body of ye Reverend Mr. <span class="smcap">Patrick Thompson</span>, minister +of God’s word forty years, at present Vicar of Kirk Braddan. Aged 67 +anno 1678. Deceased ye 24th of April 1689.</p></div> + +<p>It will be seen from the foregoing that the stone was prepared eleven +years prior to the death of the vicar.</p> + +<p>Some of the gravestones bear records of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> longevity, the most important +being the following:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>In memory of <span class="smcap">Patrick M’Carrey</span> of Douglas, who departed this life the +9th December 1851, aged 102 years; also in memory of <span class="smcap">Jane M’Carrey</span>, +alias Leech, wife of the above-named <span class="smcap">Patrick M’Carrey</span>, who departed +this life the 19th December 1851, aged 100 years. They lived together +upwards of 70 years.</p></div> + +<p>It will be noticed that although the pair had lived together as man and +wife for three score years and ten, the widow only lived ten days after +the death of her husband. On many of the tombstones the maiden name of the +wife is given, and preceding it is the word <i>alias</i>.</p> + +<p>Major Wilks, on his retirement from the Governorship of St. Helena, where +he had the charge of the Emperor Napoleon, settled in the Isle of Man. He +brought with him a black servant, who died a few years after leaving his +native country. He was buried in this graveyard, and over his remains +Major Wilks erected a stone bearing an inscription as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><span class="smcap">Samuel Alley</span>,</span><br /> +An African, and native of St. Helena,<br /> +Died 28th May 1822, aged 18 years,<br /> +Born a slave, and exposed<br /> +In early life to the corrupt influence<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>Of that unhappy state, he became<br /> +A model of Truth and Probity, for<br /> +The more fortunate of any country<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Or condition.</span><br /> +This stone is erected by a grateful<br /> +Master to the memory of a faithful<br /> +Servant, who repaid the boon of<br /> +Liberty with unbounded attachment.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Governor Wilks was a gentleman of high character, personable and +courtier-like manners. He was a writer of some ability, and was the author +of a “History of the Mahratta War,” which Napoleon read and admired. The +ex-Emperor greatly esteemed the Governor, and his departure from St. +Helena, where it is said that he made many wise and lasting improvements, +was much regretted. Shortly prior to leaving the island, Governor Wilks +introduced his daughter to Napoleon, who, it is reported, looked at her +with a pleasing smile and said, “I have long heard from various quarters +of the superior elegance and beauty of Miss Wilks; but now I am convinced +from my own eyes that report has scarcely done her sufficient justice,” +and concluded by most politely bowing to Miss Wilks. In course of +conversation he said, “You will be very glad to leave this island.” She +replied “Oh no, sire; I am very sorry to go away.” “Oh!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> Mademoiselle, I +wish I could change places with you.” He presented her with a bracelet in +memory of her visit. She subsequently became Lady Buchan, and died in May, +1888, at the advanced age of ninety-one years; and at the time of her +death it was stated that “she was one of the last surviving persons who +had a distinct recollection of the first Napoleon.”</p> + +<p>There is a curious bit of lore connected with the estate of Governor Wilks +in the Isle of Man; it is situated not far from Kirk Braddan, and called +Kirby, a name corrupted from two Manx words, “Cur Bee,” meaning “Give +food.” In the olden days the owner of the estate had to provide bed and +board to the Bishop on his journey to and from England, and from this +circumstance is derived its name.</p> + +<p>In the churchyard rest the mortal remains of the brother of Mrs. William +Wordsworth, Captain Henry Hutchinson. The poet Wordsworth wrote the +epitaph which appears on his tombstone. The inscription can only be read +with great difficulty, and in a few years will be effaced by the effects +of the weather on the tender stone. The following is a literal copy of the +epitaph, and perhaps the only one which has been printed:—</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>In memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Henry Hutchinson</span>,<br /> +born at Penrith, Cumberland,<br /> +14th June 1769.<br /> +At an early age he entered<br /> +upon a Seafaring life in the<br /> +course of which, being of a<br /> +thoughtful mind, he attained<br /> +great skill, and knowledge<br /> +of his Profession, and endured<br /> +in all climates severe<br /> +hardships with exemplary<br /> +courage & fortitude. The<br /> +latter part of his life, was<br /> +passed with a beloved Sister<br /> +upon this Island. He died at<br /> +Douglas the 23rd of May 1839,<br /> +much lamented by his Kindred<br /> +& Friends who have erected<br /> +this stone to testify their<br /> +sense of his mild virtues<br /> +& humble piety.</p> + +<p>Hutchinson wrote poetry of much merit, and one of his sonnets is included +in the works of Wordsworth. It is autobiographical in its character, and +is as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>From early youth I ploughed the restless Main,<br /> +My mind as restless and as apt to change;<br /> +Through every clime and ocean did I range,<br /> +In hope at length a competence to gain;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>For poor to Sea I went, and poor I still remain.<br /> +Year after year I strove, but strove in vain,<br /> +And hardships manifold did I endure,<br /> +For Fortune on me never deigned to smile;<br /> +Yet I at last a resting place have found,<br /> +With just enough life’s comforts to procure,<br /> +In a snug Cove on this our favoured Isle,<br /> +A peaceful spot where Nature’s gifts abound;<br /> +Then sure I have no reason to complain,<br /> +Though poor to Sea I went, and poor I still remain.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Inside the church there is another monument of some literary interest, +placed to the memory of the Rev. John Kelly, <span class="smcaplc">LL.D.</span>, <span class="smcaplc">J.P.</span>, etc., Rector of +Copford, near Colchester. He was the compiler of a polyglot dictionary in +the Manx, Gaelic, and Erse languages. The work has quite a romantic +history. We are told, “whilst conveying the manuscript, on which he had +spent much time and care, to England, he was wrecked between Ramsey and +Whitehaven, but, with great fortitude, he supported himself on the sea, +and held the manuscript at arm’s-length above the waters for the space of +five hours.” Several other interesting tablets are inside the church.</p> + +<p>There is a striking monument in the churchyard to the memory of Lord Henry +Murray, fifth son of the Duke of Atholl. The inscription states—“This +sincere testimonial of affection and deep regret for their commander and +their friend is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> erected by the officers of the regiment.” He was the +Lieutenant-Colonel Commandant of the Royal Manx Fencibles, and died in +1805, at the age of thirty-eight years.</p> + +<p>In the Kirk Braddan Cemetery, situated not far from the old churchyard, is +buried John Martin, the celebrated artist, and brother of the notorious +Jonathan Martin, who set fire to York Minster, and the eccentric William +Martin, the anti-Newtonian philosopher. Martin painted some remarkable +pictures, and was a man of genius. He was one of the most popular artists +of his day, although he was never a member of the Royal Academy. According +to the local guide-books, “his latest productions,—‘The Great Day of His +Wrath,’ ‘The Day of Judgment,’ and ‘The Plains of Heaven,’—owe much of +their atmospheric grandeur and scenery to the residence of the painter on +this island.” A marble slab on a large square vault bears the following +inscription:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>In memory of <span class="smcap">John Martin</span>, historical painter, born at Haydon Bridge, +Northumberland, 19th July 1789, died at Douglas, Isle of Man, 17th +February 1854.</p></div> + +<p>Martin was a man greatly esteemed, and did much to promote intercourse +between men and women devoted to literature, science, and art.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> Mr. Samuel +Carter Hall, in his pleasant “Memoirs of Great Men,” supplies a genial +sketch of this artist. “Martin, like so many other artists,” says Mr. +Hall, “had a terrible wrestle with adversity on his way to fame. I +remember his telling me that once he ‘owned’ a shilling; it was needful to +hoard it, but, being very hungry, he entered a baker’s shop to buy a penny +loaf. To his shame and dismay, he found the shilling was a bad one. ‘So +long afterwards,’ added the painter, then at the realisation of his hopes +and aims, ‘when I had a shilling, I took care to get it changed into +penny-pieces.’”</p> + +<p>A gravestone in the churchyard of Santon Parish Church contains the +following curious inscription:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here, friend, is little Daniel’s tomb—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To Joseph’s age he did arrive.</span><br /> +Sloth killing thousands in their bloom,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While labour kept poor Dan alive.</span><br /> +How strange, yet true, full seventy years<br /> +Was his wife happy in her tears!</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel Tear</span> died 9th December 1707, aged 110 years.</p></div> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> +<h2>Epitaphs on Notable Persons.</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">We</span> have under this heading some curious graveyard gleanings on remarkable +men and women. Our first is from a tombstone erected in the churchyard of +Spofforth, at the cost of Lord Dundas, telling the remarkable career of +John Metcalf, better known as “Blind Jack of Knaresborough”:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies <span class="smcap">John Metcalf</span>, one whose infant sight<br /> +Felt the dark pressure of an endless night;<br /> +Yet such the fervour of his dauntless mind,<br /> +His limbs full strung, his spirits unconfined,<br /> +That, long ere yet life’s bolder years began,<br /> +The sightless efforts mark’d th’ aspiring man;<br /> +Nor mark’d in vain—high deeds his manhood dared,<br /> +And commerce, travel, both his ardour shared.<br /> +’Twas his a guide’s unerring aid to lend—<br /> +O’er trackless wastes to bid new roads extend;<br /> +And, when rebellion reared her giant size,<br /> +’Twas his to burn with patriot enterprise;<br /> +For parting wife and babes, a pang to feel,<br /> +Then welcome danger for his country’s weal.<br /> +Reader, like him, exert thy utmost talent given!<br /> +Reader, like him, adore the bounteous hand of Heaven.</td></tr></table> + +<p>He died on the 26th of April, 1801, in the 93rd year of his age.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>A few jottings respecting Metcalf will probably be read with interest. At +the age of six years he lost his sight by an attack of small-pox. Three +years later he joined the boys in their bird-nesting exploits, and climbed +trees to share the plunder. When he had reached thirteen summers he was +taught music, and soon became a proficient performer; he also learned to +ride and swim, and was passionately fond of field-sports. At the age of +manhood it is said his mind possessed a self-dependence rarely enjoyed by +those who have the perfect use of their faculties; his body was well in +harmony with his mind, for when twenty-one years of age he was six feet +one and a half inches in height, strong and robust in proportion. At the +age of twenty-five, he was engaged as a musician at Harrogate. About this +time he was frequently employed during the dark nights as a guide over the +moors and wilds, then abundant in the neighbourhood of Knaresborough. He +was a lover of horse-racing, and often rode his own animals. His horses he +so tamed that when he called them by their respective names they came to +him, thus enabling him to find his own amongst any number and without +trouble. Particulars of the marriage of this individual read like a +romance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> A Miss Benson, the daughter of an innkeeper, reciprocated the +affections of our hero; however, the suitor did not please the parents of +the “fair lady,” and they selected a Mr. Dickinson as her future husband. +Metcalf, hearing that the object of his affection was to be married the +following day to the young man selected by her father, hastened to free +her by inducing the damsel to elope with him. Next day they were made man +and wife, to the great surprise of all who knew them, and to the +disappointment of the intended son-in-law. To all it was a matter of +wonder how a handsome woman as any in the country, the pride of the place, +could link her future with “Blind Jack,” and, for his sake, reject the +many good offers made her. But the bride set the matter at rest by +declaring: “His actions are so singular, and his spirit so manly and +enterprising, that I could not help it.”</p> + +<p>It is worthy of note that he was the first to set up, for the public +accommodation of visitors to Harrogate, a four-wheeled chaise and a +one-horse chair; these he kept for two seasons. He next bought horses and +went to the coast for fish, which he conveyed to Leeds and Manchester. In +1745, when the rebellion broke out in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>Scotland, he joined a regiment of +volunteers raised by Colonel Thornton, a patriotic gentleman, for the +defence of the House of Hanover. Metcalf shared with his comrades all the +dangers of the campaign. He was defeated at Falkirk, and victorious at +Culloden. He was the first to set up (in 1754) a stage-waggon between York +and Knaresborough, which he conducted himself twice a week in summer, and +once a week in winter. This employment he followed until he commenced +contracting for road-making. His first contract was for making three miles +of road between Minskip and Ferrensby. He afterwards erected bridges and +houses, and made hundreds of miles of roads in Yorkshire, Lancashire, +Cheshire, and Derbyshire. He was a dealer in timber and hay, of which he +measured and calculated the solid contents by a peculiar method of his +own. The hay he always measured with his arms, and, having learned the +height, he could tell the number of square yards in the stack. When he +went out, he always carried with him a stout staff some inches taller than +himself, which was of great service both in his travels and measurements. +In 1778 he lost his wife, after thirty-nine years of conjugal felicity, in +the sixty-first year of her age.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> She was interred at Stockport. Four +years later he left Lancashire, and settled at the pleasant rural village +of Spofforth, not far distant from the town of his nativity. With a +daughter, he resided on a small farm until he died, in 1801. At the time +of his decease, his descendants were four children, twenty grandchildren, +and ninety great-grandchildren.</p> + +<p>In “Yorkshire Longevity,” compiled by Mr. William Grainge, of Harrogate, a +most painstaking writer on local history, will be found an interesting +account of Henry Jenkins, a celebrated Yorkshireman. It is stated: “In the +year 1743, a monument was erected, by subscription, in Bolton churchyard, +to the memory of Jenkins: it consists of a square base of freestone, four +feet four inches on each side, by four feet six inches in height, +surmounted by a pyramid eleven feet high. On the east side is inscribed:—</p> + +<p class="center">This monument was<br /> +erected by contribution,<br /> +in ye year 1743, to ye memory<br /> +of <span class="smcap">Henry Jenkins</span>.</p> + +<p>On the west side:—</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Henry Jenkins</span>,<br /> +Aged 169.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>In the church on a mural tablet of black marble, is inscribed the +following epitaph, composed by Dr. Thomas Chapman, Master of Magdalen +College, Cambridge:—</p> + +<p class="center">Blush not, marble,<br /> +to rescue from oblivion<br /> +the memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Henry Jenkins</span>:<br /> +a person obscure in birth,<br /> +but of a life truly memorable;<br /> +for<br /> +he was enriched<br /> +with the goods of nature,<br /> +if not of fortune,<br /> +and happy<br /> +in the duration,<br /> +if not variety,<br /> +of his enjoyments;<br /> +and,<br /> +tho’ the partial world<br /> +despised and disregarded<br /> +his low and humble state,<br /> +the equal eye of Providence<br /> +beheld, and blessed it<br /> +with a patriarch’s health and length of days;<br /> +to teach mistaken man,<br /> +these blessings were entailed on temperance,<br /> +or, a life of labour and a mind at ease.<br /> +<br /> +He lived to the amazing age of 169;<br /> +was interred here, Dec. 6, (or 9,) 1670,<br /> +and had this justice done to his memory 1743.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>This inscription is a proof that learned men, and masters of colleges, are +not always exempt from the infirmity of writing nonsense. Passing over the +modest request to the <i>black marble</i> not to blush, because, it may <i>feel</i> +itself degraded by bearing the name of the plebeian Jenkins, when it ought +only to have been appropriated to kings and nobles, we find but +questionable philosophy in this inappropriate composition.</p> + +<p>The multitude of great events which took place during the lifetime of this +man are truly wonderful and astonishing. He lived under the rule of nine +sovereigns of England—Henry VII., Henry VIII., Edward VI., Mary, +Elizabeth, James I., Charles I., Oliver Cromwell, and Charles II. He was +born when the Roman Catholic religion was established by law. He saw the +dissolution of the monasteries, and the faith of the nation changed; +Popery established a second time by Queen Mary; Protestantism restored by +Elizabeth; the Civil War between Charles and the Parliament begun and +ended; Monarchy abolished; the young Republic of England, arbiter of the +destinies of Europe; and the restoration of Monarchy under the libertine +Charles II. During his time, England was invaded by the Scotch; a +Scottish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> King was slain, and a Scottish Queen beheaded in England; a King +of Spain and a King of Scotland were Kings in England; three Queens and +one King were beheaded in England in his days; and fire and plague alike +desolated London. His lifetime time appears like that of a nation, more +than an individual, so long was it extended and so crowded was it with +such great events.</p> + +<p>The foregoing many incidents remind us of the well-known Scottish epitaph +on Margery Scott, who died February 26th, 1728, at Dunkeld, at the extreme +age of one hundred years. According to Chambers’s “Domestic Annals of +Scotland,” the following epitaph was composed for her by Alexander +Pennecuik, but never inscribed, and it has been preserved by the reverend +statist of the parish, as a whimsical statement of historical facts +comprehended within the life of an individual:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Stop, passenger, until my life you read,<br /> +The living may get knowledge from the dead.<br /> +Five times five years I led a virgin life,<br /> +Five times five years I was a virtuous wife;<br /> +Ten times five years I lived a widow chaste,<br /> +Now tired of this mortal life I rest.<br /> +Betwixt my cradle and my grave hath been<br /> +Eight mighty kings of Scotland and a queen.<br /> +Full twice five years the Commonwealth I saw,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>Ten times the subjects rise against the law;<br /> +And, which is worse than any civil war,<br /> +A king arraigned before the subject’s bar.<br /> +Swarms of sectarians, hot with hellish rage,<br /> +Cut off his royal head upon the stage.<br /> +Twice did I see old prelacy pulled down,<br /> +And twice the cloak did sink beneath the gown.<br /> +I saw the Stuart race thrust out; nay, more,<br /> +I saw our country sold for English ore;<br /> +Our numerous nobles, who have famous been,<br /> +Sunk to the lowly number of sixteen.<br /> +Such desolation in my days have been,<br /> +I have an end of all perfection seen!</td></tr></table> + +<p>A footnote states: “The minister’s version is here corrected from one of +the <i>Gentleman’s Magazines</i> for January, 1733; but both are incorrect, +there having been during 1728 and the one hundred preceding years no more +than six kings of Scotland.”</p> + +<p>Rowland Deakin died in 1791, aged 95, and was buried in Astley churchyard, +near Shrewsbury. His epitaph is as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Many years I’ve seen, and<br /> +Many things I have known,<br /> +Five Kings, two Queens,<br /> +And a Usurper on the throne;<br /> +But now lie sleeping in the dust<br /> +As you, dear reader, shortly must.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In Scott’s “Tales of a Grandfather,” there is an account of the Battle of +Lillyard’s Edge,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> which was fought in 1545. The spot on which the battle +occurred is so called from an Amazonian Scottish woman, who is reported, +by tradition, to have distinguished herself in the fight. An inscription +which was placed on her tombstone was legible within the present century, +and is said to have run thus:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Fair Maiden <span class="smcap">Lillyard</span> lies under this stane,<br /> +Little was her stature, but great was her fame;<br /> +Upon the English louns she laid mony thumps,<br /> +And when her legs were cutted off, she fought upon her stumps.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The tradition says that a beautiful young lady, called Lillyard, followed +her lover from the little village of Maxton, and when she saw him fall in +battle, rushed herself into the heat of the fight, and was killed, after +slaying several of the English.</p> + +<p>In Bolton churchyard, Lancashire, is a gravestone of considerable +historical interest. It has been incorrectly printed in several books and +magazines, but we are able to give a literal copy drawn from a carefully +compiled “History of Bolton,” by John D. Briscoe:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">John Okey</span>,</p> + +<p>The servant of God, was borne in London, 1608, came into this toune in +1629, married Mary, daughter of James Crompton, of Breightmet, 1635, +with whom he lived <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>comfortably 20 yeares, & begot 4 sons and 6 +daughters. Since then he lived sole till the da of his death. In his +time were many great changes, & terrible alterations—18 yeares Civil +Wars in England, besides many dreadful sea fights—the crown or +command of England changed 8 times, Episcopacy laid aside 14 yeares; +London burnt by Papists, and more stately built againe; Germany wasted +300 miles; 200,000 protestants murdered in Ireland, by the Papists; +this toune thrice stormed—once taken, & plundered. He went throw many +troubles and divers conditions, found rest, joy, & happines only in +holines—the faith, feare, and loue of God in Jesus Christ. He died +the 29 of Ap and lieth here buried, 1684. Come Lord Jesus, o come +quickly. Holiness is man’s happines.</p> + +<p class="center">[<span class="smcaplc">THE ARMS OF OKEY.</span>]</p></div> + +<p>We gather from Mr. Briscoe’s history that Okey was a woolcomber, and came +from London to superintend some works at Bolton, where he married the +niece of the proprietor, and died in affluence.</p> + +<p>Bradley, the “Yorkshire Giant,” was buried in the Market Weighton Church, +and on a marble monument the following inscription appears:—</p> + +<p class="center">In memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Bradley</span>,<br /> +(Of Market Weighton,)<br /> +Who died May 30th, 1820,<br /> +Aged 33 years.<br /> +He measured<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>Seven feet nine inches in Height,<br /> +and Weighed<br /> +twenty-seven stones.</p> + +<p>On exhibiting himself at Hull Fair, in 1815, he issued a hand-bill, and +the following is a copy of it:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>To be seen during the fair, at the house, No. 10, Queen Street, Mr. +Bradley, the most wonderful and surprising Yorkshire Giant, 7 feet 9 +inches high, weighs 27 stones; who has had the honour of being +introduced to their Majesties & Royal Family at Windsor, where he was +most graciously received. A more surprising instance of gigantic +stature has never been beheld, or exhibited in any other kingdom; +being proportionate in all respects, the sight of him never fails to +give universal gratification, & will fill the beholder’s eyes with +wonder & astonishment. He is allowed by the greatest judges to surpass +all men ever yet seen. Admittance one shilling.</p></div> + +<p>In “Celebrities of the Yorkshire Wolds,” by Frederick Ross, an interesting +sketch of Bradley is given. Mr. Ross states that he was a man of temperate +habits, and never drank anything stronger than water, milk, or tea, and +was a very moderate eater.</p> + +<p>In Hampsthwaite churchyard was interred a “Yorkshire Dwarf.” Her +gravestone states:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>In memory of <span class="smcap">Jane Ridsdale</span>, daughter of George and Isabella Ridsdale, +of Hampsthwaite, who died at Swinton Hall, in the parish of Masham, on +the 2nd day of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> January, 1828, in the 59th year of her age. Being in +stature only 31½ inches high.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Blest be the hand divine which gently laid<br /> +My head at rest beneath the humble shade;<br /> +Then be the ties of friendship dear;<br /> +Let no rude hand disturb my body here.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>In the burial-ground of St. Martin’s, Stamford, is a gravestone to +Lambert, a man of surprising corpulency:—</p> + +<p class="center">In remembrance of that prodigy in nature,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Daniel Lambert</span>,<br /> +a native of Leicester,<br /> +who was possessed of an excellent and convivial mind, and<br /> +in personal greatness had no competitor.<br /> +He measured three feet one inch round the leg, nine feet four<br /> +inches round the body, and weighed 52 stones 11 lbs.<br /> +(14 lb. to the stone).<br /> +He departed this life on the 21st of June, 1809, aged 39 years.<br /> +As a testimony of respect, this stone was erected by his<br /> +friends in Leicester.</p> + +<p>Respecting the burial of Lambert we gather from a sketch of his life the +following particulars: “His coffin, in which there was a great difficulty +to place him, was six feet four inches long, four feet four inches wide, +and two feet four inches deep; the immense substance of his legs made it +necessarily a square case. This coffin, which consisted of 112 superficial +feet of elm, was built on two axle-trees, and four cog-wheels. Upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> these +his remains were rolled into his grave, which was in the new burial-ground +at the back of St. Martin’s Church. A regular descent was made by sloping +it for some distance. It was found necessary to take down the window and +wall of the room in which he lay to allow of his being taken away.”</p> + +<p>In St. Peter’s churchyard, Isle of Thanet, a gravestone bears the +following inscription:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In memory of Mr. <span class="smcap">Richard Joy</span> called the<br /> +Kentish Samson<br /> +Died May 18th 1742 aged 67</td></tr> +<tr><td>Hercules Hero Famed for Strength<br /> +At last Lies here his Breadth and Length<br /> +See how the mighty man is fallen<br /> +To Death ye strong and weak are all one<br /> +And the same Judgment doth Befall<br /> +Goliath Great or David small.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Joy was invited to Court to exhibit his remarkable feats of strength. In +1699 his portrait was published, and appended to it was an account of his +prodigious physical power.</p> + +<p>The next epitaph is from St. James’s Cemetery, Liverpool:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center">Reader pause. Deposited beneath are the remains of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sarah Biffin</span>,</p> + +<p>who was born without arms or hands, at Quantox Head, County of +Somerset, 25th of October, 1784, died at <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>Liverpool, 2nd October, +1850. Few have passed through the vale of life so much the child of +hapless fortune as the deceased: and yet possessor of mental +endowments of no ordinary kind. Gifted with singular talents as an +Artist, thousands have been gratified with the able productions of her +pencil! whilst versatile conversation and agreeable manners elicited +the admiration of all. This tribute to one so universally admired is +paid by those who were best acquainted with the character it so +briefly portrays. Do any inquire otherwise—the answer is supplied in +the solemn admonition of the Apostle—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Now no longer the subject of tears,<br /> +Her conflict and trials are o’er<br /> +In the presence of God she appears<br /> +<span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span></td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>Our correspondent, Mrs. Charlotte Jobling, from whom we received the +above, says: “The remainder is buried. It stands against the wall, and +does not appear to now mark the grave of Miss Biffin.” Mr. Henry Morley, +in his “Memoirs of Bartholomew Fair,” writing about the fair of 1799, +mentions Miss Biffin. “She was found,” says Mr. Morley, “in the Fair, and +assisted by the Earl of Morton, who sat for his likeness to her, always +taking the unfinished picture away with him when he left, that he might +prove it to be all the work of her own shoulder. When it was done he laid +it before George III., in the year 1808; he obtained the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> King’s favour +for Miss Biffin; and caused her to receive, at his own expense, further +instruction in her art from Mr. Craig. For the last twelve years of his +life he maintained a correspondence with her; and, after having enjoyed +favour from two King Georges, she received from William IV. a small +pension, with which, at the Earl’s request, she retired from a life among +caravans. But fourteen years later, having been married in the interval, +she found it necessary to resume, as Mrs. Wright, late Miss Biffin, her +business as a skilful miniature painter, in one or two of our chief +provincial towns.”</p> + +<p>The following on Butler, the author of “Hudibras,” merits a place in our +pages. The first inscription is from St. Paul’s, Covent Garden:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Butler</span>, the celebrated author of “Hudibras,” was buried in this +church. Some of the inhabitants, understanding that so famous a man +was there buried, and regretting that neither stone nor inscription +recorded the event, raised a subscription for the purpose of erecting +something to his memory. Accordingly, an elegant tablet has been put +up in the portico of the church, bearing a medallion of that great +man, which was taken from his monument in Westminster Abbey.</p></div> + +<p>The following lines were contributed by Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> O’Brien, and are engraved +beneath the medallion:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>A few plain men, to pomp and pride unknown,<br /> +O’er a poor bard have rais’d this humble stone,<br /> +Whose wants alone his genius could surpass,<br /> +Victim of zeal! the matchless “Hudibras.”<br /> +What, tho’ fair freedom suffer’d in his page,<br /> +Reader, forgive the author—for the age.<br /> +How few, alas! disdain to cringe and cant,<br /> +When ’tis the mode to play the sycophant,<br /> +But oh! let all be taught, from <span class="smcap">Butler’s</span> fate,<br /> +Who hope to make their fortunes by the great;<br /> +That wit and pride are always dangerous things,<br /> +And little faith is due to courts or kings.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The erection of the above monument was the occasion of this very good +epigram by Mr. S. Wesley:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Whilst <span class="smcap">Butler</span> (needy wretch!) was yet alive,<br /> +No gen’rous patron would a dinner give;<br /> +See him, when starv’d to death, and turn’d to dust,<br /> +Presented with a monumental bust!<br /> +The poet’s fate is here in emblem shown,<br /> +He ask’d for bread, and he received a stone.</td></tr></table> + +<p>It is worth remarking that the poet was starving, while his prince, +Charles II., always carried a “Hudibras” in his pocket.</p> + +<p>The inscription on his monument in Westminster Abbey is as follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +Sacred to the Memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Samuel Butler</span>,</p> + +<p>Who was born at Strensham, in Worcestershire, 1612, and died at +London, 1680; a man of uncommon learning, wit, and probity: as +admirable for the product of his genius, as unhappy in the rewards of +them. His satire, exposing the hypocrisy and wickedness of the rebels, +is such an inimitable piece, that, as he was the first, he may be said +to be the last writer in his peculiar manner. That he, who, when +living, wanted almost everything, might not, after death, any longer +want so much as a tomb, John Barber, citizen of London, erected this +monument 1721.</p></div> + +<p>Here are a few particulars respecting an oddity, furnished by a +correspondent: “Died, at High Wycombe, Bucks, on the 24th May, 1837, Mr. +John Guy, aged 64. His remains were interred in Hughenden churchyard, near +Wycombe. On a marble slab, on the lid of his coffin, is the following +inscription:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here, without nail or shroud, doth lie<br /> +Or covered by a pall, <span class="smcap">John Guy</span>.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Born May 17th, 1773.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Died —— 24th, 1837.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>On his gravestone these lines are inscribed:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>In coffin made without a nail,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Without a shroud his limbs to hide;</span><br /> +For what can pomp or show avail,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or velvet pall, to swell the pride.</span><br /> +Here lies <span class="smcap">John Guy</span> beneath this sod,<br /> +Who lov’d his friends, and fear’d his God.</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>This eccentric gentleman was possessed of considerable property, and was a +native of Gloucestershire. His grave and coffin were made under his +directions more than a twelvemonth before his death; the inscription on +the tablet on his coffin, and the lines placed upon his gravestone, were +his own composition. He gave all necessary orders for the conducting of +his funeral, and five shillings were wrapped in separate pieces of paper +for each of the bearers. The coffin was of singular beauty and neatness in +workmanship, and looked more like a piece of tasteful cabinet-work +intended for a drawing-room, than a receptacle for the dead.”</p> + +<p>Near the great door of the Abbey of St. Peter, Gloucester, says Mr. Henry +Calvert Appleby, at the bottom of the body of the building, is a marble +monument to John Jones, dressed in the robes of an alderman, painted in +different colours. Underneath the effigy, on a tablet of black marble, are +the following words:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">John Jones</span>, alderman, thrice mayor of the city, burgess of the +Parliament at the time of the gunpowder treason; registrar to eight +several Bishops of this diocese.</p></div> + +<p>He died in the sixth year of the reign of King Charles I., on the first of +June, 1630. He gave orders for his monument to be raised in his lifetime.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +When the workmen had fixed it up, he found fault with it, remarking that +the <i>nose was too red</i>. While they were altering it, he walked up and down +the body of the church. He then said that he had himself almost finished, +so he paid off the men, and died the next morning.</p> + +<p>The next epitaph from Newark, Nottinghamshire, furnishes a chapter of +local history:—</p> + +<p class="center">Sacred to the memory<br /> +Of <span class="smcap">Hercules Clay</span>, Alderman of Newark,<br /> +Who died in the year of his Mayoralty,<br /> +Jan. 1, 1644.<br /> +On the 5th of March, 1643,<br /> +He and his family were preserved<br /> +By the Divine Providence<br /> +From the thunderbolt of a terrible cannon<br /> +Which had been levelled against his house<br /> +By the Besiegers,<br /> +And entirely destroyed the same.<br /> +Out of gratitude for this deliverance,<br /> +He has taken care<br /> +To perpetuate the remembrance thereof<br /> +By an alms to the poor and a sermon;<br /> +By this means<br /> +Raising to himself a Monument<br /> +More durable than Brass.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>The thund’ring Cannon sent forth from its mouth the devouring Flames<br /> +Against my Household Gods, and yours, O Newark.<br /> +The Ball, thus thrown, Involved the House in Ruin;<br /> +But by a Divine Admonition from Heaven I was saved,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>Being thus delivered by a strength Greater than that of Hercules,<br /> +And having been drawn out of the deep Clay,<br /> +I now inhabit the stars on high.<br /> +Now, Rebel, direct thy unavailing Fires at Heaven,<br /> +Art thou afraid to fight against God—thou<br /> +Who hast been a Murderer of His People?<br /> +Thou durst not, Coward, scatter thy Flames<br /> +Whilst Charles is lord of earth and skies.</td></tr></table> + +<p class="center">Also of his beloved wife<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mary</span> (by the gift of God)<br /> +Partaker of the same felicity.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Wee too made one by his decree<br /> +That is but one in Trinity,<br /> +Did live as one till death came in<br /> +And made us two of one agen;<br /> +Death was much blamed for our divorce,<br /> +But striving how he might doe worse<br /> +By killing th’ one as well as th’ other,<br /> +He fairely brought us both togeather,<br /> +Our soules together where death dare not come,<br /> +Our bodyes lye interred beneath this tomb,<br /> +Wayting the resurrection of the just,<br /> +O knowe thyself (O man), thou art but dust.<a name='fna_2' id='fna_2' href='#f_2'><small>[2]</small></a></td></tr></table> + +<p>It is stated that Charles II., in a gay moment, asked Rochester to write +his epitaph. Rochester immediately wrote:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies our mutton-eating king,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose word no man relied on;</span><br /> +Who never said a foolish thing,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor ever did a wise one.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>On which the King wrote the following comment:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>If death could speak, the king would say,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In justice to his crown,</span><br /> +His <i>acts</i> they were the ministers’s,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His words they were his own.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>Mr. Thomas Broadbent Trowsdale tells us: “In the fine old church of +Chepstow, Monmouthshire, nearly opposite the reading-desk, is a memorial +stone with the following curious acrostic inscription, in capital +letters:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">Here Sept.</span> 9th, 1680,<br /> +<span class="smcaplc">WAS BURIED<br /> +A True Born Englishman</span>,</td></tr> +<tr><td>Who, in Berkshire, was well known<br /> +To love his country’s freedom ’bove his own:<br /> +But being immured full twenty years<br /> +Had time to write, as doth appears—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcaplc">HIS EPITAPH.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td>H ere or elsewhere (all’s one to you or me)<br /> +E arth, Air, or Water gripes my ghostly dust,<br /> +N one knows how soon to be by fire set free;<br /> +R eader, if you an old try’d rule will trust,<br /> +Y ou’ll gladly do and suffer what you must.<br /> +<br /> +M y time was spent in serving you and you,<br /> +A nd death’s my pay, it seems, and welcome too;<br /> +R evenge destroying but itself, while I<br /> +T o birds of prey leave my old cage and fly;<br /> +E xamples preach to the eye—care then (mine says),<br /> +N ot how you end, but how you spend your days.</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>“This singular epitaph points out the last resting-place of Henry Marten, +one of the judges who condemned King Charles I. to the scaffold. On the +Restoration, Marten was sentenced to perpetual imprisonment, Chepstow +Castle being selected as the place of his incarceration. There he died in +1680, in the twenty-eighth year of his captivity, and seventy-eighth of +his age. He was originally interred in the chancel of the church; but a +subsequent vicar of Chepstow, Chest by name, who carried his petty party +animosities even beyond the grave, had the dead man’s dust removed, +averring that he would not allow the body of a regicide to lie so near the +altar. And so it was that Marten’s memorial came to occupy its present +position in the passage leading from the nave to the north aisle. We are +told that one Mr. Downton, a son-in-law of this pusillanimous parson, +touched to the quick by his relative’s harsh treatment of poor Marten’s +inanimate remains, retorted by writing this satirical epitaph for the Rev. +Mr. Chest’s tombstone:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies at rest, I do protest,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One <span class="smcap">Chest</span> within another!</span><br /> +The chest of wood was very good,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who says so of the other?</span></td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>“Some doubt has been thrown on the probability of a man of Marten’s +culture having written, as is implied in the inscription, the epitaph +which has a place on his memorial.</p> + +<p>“The regicide was a son of Sir Henry Marten, a favourite of the first +James, and by him appointed Principal Judge of the Admiralty and Dean of +Arches. Young Henry was himself a prominent person during the period of +the disastrous Civil War, and was elected Member of Parliament for +Berkshire in 1640. He was, in politics, a decided Republican, and threw in +his lot with the Roundhead followers of sturdy Oliver. When the tide of +popular favour turned in Charles II.’s direction, and Royalty was +reinstated, Marten and the rest of the regicides were brought to judgment +for signing the death warrant of their monarch. The consequence, in +Marten’s case, was life-long imprisonment, as we have seen, in Chepstow +Castle.”</p> + +<p>Next is a copy of an acrostic epitaph from Tewkesbury Abbey.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Here lyeth the body of <span class="smcap">Thomas Merrett</span>, of Tewkesbury, +Barber-chirurgeon, who departed this life the 22nd day of October, +1699.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>T hough only Stone Salutes the reader’s eye,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>H ere (in deep silence) precious dust doth lye,<br /> +O bscurely Sleeping in Death’s mighty store,<br /> +M ingled with common earth till time’s no more,<br /> +A gainst Death’s Stubborne laws, who dares repine,<br /> +S ince So much Merrett did his life resigne.<br /> +<br /> +M urmurs and Teares are useless in the grave,<br /> +E lse hee whole Vollies at his Tomb might have.<br /> +R est in Peace; who like a faithful steward,<br /> +R epair’d the Church, the Poore and needy cur’d;<br /> +E ternall mansions do attend the Just,<br /> +T o clothe with Immortality their dust,<br /> +T ainted (whilst under ground) with wormes and rust.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>In the churchyard of Irongray a table stone, reared by Sir Walter Scott, +commemorates Helen Walker, the prototype of Jeanie Deans, whose integrity +and tenderness are, in his “Heart of Midlothian,” so admirably portrayed +by that great novelist. The following is the inscription:—</p> + +<p class="center">This stone was erected<br /> +by the author of Waverley<br /> +to the memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Helen Walker</span>,<br /> +who died in the year of God 1791.<br /> +This humble individual practised in real<br /> +life the virtues<br /> +with which fiction has invested<br /> +the imaginary character of<br /> +Jeanie Deans;<br /> +refusing the slightest departure<br /> +from veracity,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>even to save the life of a sister,<br /> +she nevertheless showed her<br /> +kindness and fortitude,<br /> +in rescuing her from the severity of the<br /> +law at the expense of personal<br /> +exertions which the time<br /> +rendered as difficult as the motive was<br /> +laudable.<br /> +Respect the grave of poverty<br /> +when combined with love of truth<br /> +and dear affection.<br /> +Erected October 1831.</p> + +<p>Robert Paterson, better known as “Old Mortality,” rests in the churchyard +of Caerlaverock, Dumfriesshire. We learn from Dr. Charles Rogers’s +“Monuments and Monumental Inscriptions in Scotland” (1871) that Paterson +was born in 1715, and was the youngest son of Walter Paterson and Margaret +Scott, who rented the farm of Haggista, parish of Hawick. He some time +served an elder brother who had a farm in Comcockle-muir, near Lochmaben. +He married Elizabeth Gray, who, having been cook in the family of Sir +Thomas Kirkpatrick, of Closeburn, procured for him an advantageous lease +of a freestone quarry at Morton. Here he resided many years, labouring +with exemplary diligence. From his youth attached to the sect of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +Cameronians, he evinced a deep interest in the memory of those who had +suffered in the cause of Presbytery. Occasionally he restored their +tombstones. At length his zeal in the restoration of these stony memorials +acquired the force of a passion. In 1758 he began to travel from parish to +parish, ever working with hammer and chisel in renewing the epitaphs of +the martyrs. His self-imposed task no entreaties of wife or children could +induce him to abandon. Though reduced to the verge of poverty, he +persisted in his labours till the last day of his existence. He died at +Banpend village, near Lockerbie, on the 29th January, 1801, aged +eighty-six. At his death he was found possessed of twenty-seven shillings +and sixpence, which were applied to the expenses of his funeral. Sir +Walter Scott, who has made “Old Mortality” the subject of a novel, +intended to rear a tombstone to his memory, but was unable to discover his +place of sepulture. Since the discovery has been made, Messrs. Black, of +Edinburgh, who possess the copyright of the Waverley novels, have reared +at the grave of the old enthusiast a suitable memorial stone. It is thus +inscribed:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">Erected to the memory of <span class="smcap">Robert Paterson</span>,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>the “Old Mortality” of Sir Walter Scott,<br /> +who was buried here February, 1801.</td></tr> +<tr><td>“Why seeks he with unwearied toil<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through death’s dim walk to urge his way</span><br /> +Reclaim his long asserted spoil,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lead oblivion into day.”</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>Here is a picture of the stone placed over the grave of William +Shakespeare, at Stratford-on-Avon, with its well-known and frequently +quoted inscription:—</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img11.jpg" +alt="Good frend for Iesvs sake forbeare, to dicc the dvst encloased heare, Bleste be ye man yt spares thes stones, and cvrst be he yt moves my bones." /></div> +<p> </p> + +<p>At Loddon, in Norfolk, is buried one who, like the bard of Avon, had a +great horror of his bones being removed. The epitaph is as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>When on this spot affection’s downcast eye,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The lucid tribute shall no more bestow;</span><br /> +When friendship’s breast no more shall heave a sigh,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In kind remembrance of the dust below;</span><br /> +Should the rude sexton digging near this tomb,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A place of rest for others to prepare,</span><br /> +The vault beneath to violate presume;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">May some opposing Christian cry “Forbear”—</span><br /> +Forbear! rash mortal, as thou hop’st to rest<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When death shall lodge thee in thy destined bed,</span><br /> +With ruthless spade, unkindly to molest<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The peaceful slumbers of the kindred dead.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>In Tideswell churchyard, among several other singular gravestone +inscriptions, the following occurs, and is worth reprinting:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Brian</span>, son of <span class="smcap">John</span> and <span class="smcap">Martha Haigh</span>,<br /> +who died 22nd December, 1795,<br /> +Aged 17 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Come, honest sexton, with thy spade,<br /> +And let my grave be quickly made;<br /> +Make my cold bed secure and deep,<br /> +That, undisturbed, my bones may sleep.<br /> +Until that great tremendous day,<br /> +When from above a voice shall say,—<br /> +“Awake, ye dead, lift up your eyes,<br /> +Your great Creator bids you rise!”<br /> +Then, free from this polluted dust,<br /> +I hope to be amongst the just.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Under the shadow of the ancient church of Bakewell, Derbyshire, is a stone +containing a long inscription to the memory of John Dale, barber-surgeon, +and his two wives, Elizabeth Foljambe and Sarah Bloodworth. It ends +thus:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Know posterity, that on the 8th of April, in the year of grace 1757, +the rambling remains of the above <span class="smcap">John Dale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></span> were, in the 86th yeare +of his pilgrimage, laid upon his two wives.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>This thing in life might raise some jealousy,<br /> +Here all three lie together lovingly,<br /> +But from embraces here no pleasure flows,<br /> +Alike are here all human-joys and woes;<br /> +Here Sarah’s chiding John no longer hears,<br /> +And old John’s rambling Sarah no more fears;<br /> +A period’s come to all their toylsome lives,<br /> +The good man’s quiet; still are both his wives.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>On a slab affixed to the east wall of St. Mary’s Church, Whitby, is an +inscription containing some remarkable coincidences:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Here lie the bodies of <span class="smcap">Francis Huntrodds</span> and <span class="smcap">Mary</span> his wife, who were +both born on the same day of the week month and year (viz.) Sepr ye +19th 1600 marry’d on the day of their birth and after having had 12 +children born to them died aged 80 years on the same day of the year +they were born September ye 19th 1680, the one not one above five +hours before ye other.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Husband and wife that did twelve children bear,<br /> +Dy’d the same day; alike both aged were<br /> +’Bout eighty years they liv’d, five hours did part<br /> +(Ev’n on the marriage day) each tender heart<br /> +So fit a match, surely could never be,<br /> +Both in their lives, and in their deaths agree.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>The following is from St. Julian’s Church, Shrewsbury:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The remains of <span class="smcap">Henry Corser</span> of this parish, Chirurgeon, who Deceased +April 11, 1691, and <span class="smcap">Annie</span> his wife, who followed him the next day +after:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">We man and wife,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Conjoined for Life,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fetched our last breath</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So near that Death,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Who part us would,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yet hardly could.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wedded againe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In bed of dust,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Here we remaine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Till rise we must.</span><br /> +A double prize this grave doth finde,<br /> +If you are wise keep it in minde.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>In the church of Little Driffield, East Yorkshire, were placed in modern +times two inscriptions to the memory of Alfred, King of Northumbria. The +first states:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>In the chancel of this church lie the remains of <span class="smcap">Alfred</span>, King of +Northumbria, who departed this life in the year 705.</p></div> + +<p>The present one reads as follows:—</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcaplc">WITHIN THIS CHANCEL<br /> +LIES INTERRED THE BODY OF<br /> +ALFRED<br /> +KING OF NORTHUMBRIA<br /> +DEPARTED THIS LIFE<br /> +JANUARY 19TH A.D. 705<br /> +IN THE 20TH YEAR OF HIS REIGN<br /> +STATUTUM EST OMNIBUS SEMIL MORI.</span></p> + +<p>In St. Anne’s churchyard, Soho, erected by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> the Earl of Orford (Walpole), +in 1758, these lines were (or are) to be read:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 3em;">Near this place is interred</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Theodore</span>, King of Corsica,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Who died in this Parish</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">December <span class="smcaplc">XI.</span>, <span class="smcaplc">MDCCLVI.</span>,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Immediately after leaving</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The <i>Kings Bench Prison</i>,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the benefit of the <i>Act of Insolvency</i>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In consequence of which</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He <i>registered his Kingdom of Corsica</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>For the use of his Creditors</i>!</span><br /> +<br /> +The grave—great teacher—to a level brings<br /> +Heroes and beggars, galley-slaves and kings!<br /> +But <span class="smcap">Theodore</span> this moral learned, ere dead;<br /> +Fate pour’d its lessons on his living head,<br /> +Bestow’d a kingdom, and denied him bread.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In the burial-ground of the Island of Juan Fernandez, a monument states:—</p> + +<p class="center">In Memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Alexander Selkirk</span>,<br /> +Mariner,<br /> +A native of Largo, in the county of Fife, Scotland,<br /> +Who lived on this island, in complete<br /> +solitude, for four years and four months.<br /> +He was landed from the Cinque Ports galley, 96 tons,<br /> +18 guns, <span class="smcaplc">A.D.</span> 1704, and was taken off in the<br /> +Duke, privateer, 12th February, 1709.<br /> +He died Lieutenant of H.M.S. Weymouth,<br /> +<span class="smcaplc">A.D.</span> 1723, aged 47 years.<br /> +This Tablet is erected near Selkirk’s look out,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>By Commodore Powell and the Officers<br /> +of H.M.S. Topaze, <span class="smcaplc">A.D.</span> 1868.</p> + +<p>It is generally believed that the adventures of Selkirk suggested to +Daniel Defoe the attractive story of “Robinson Crusoe.” In the “Dictionary +of English Literature,” by William Davenport Adams, will be found +important information bearing on this subject.</p> + +<p>In <i>Gloucester Notes and Queries</i> we read as follows: “Stout’s Hill is the +name of a house situated on high ground to the south of the village of +Uley, built in the style which, in the last century, was intended for +Gothic, but which may be more exactly defined as the ‘Strawberry Hill’ +style. In a house of earlier date lived the father of Samuel Rudder, the +laborious compiler of the ‘History of Gloucestershire’ (1779). He lies in +the churchyard of Uley, on the south side of the chancel, and his +gravestone has a brass-plate inserted, which records a remarkable fact:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Underneath lies the remains of <span class="smcap">Roger Rutter</span>, <i>alias</i> <span class="smcap">Rudder</span>, eldest +son of John Rutter, of Uley, who was buried August 30, 1771, aged 84 +years, having never eaten flesh, fish, or fowl, during the course of +his long life.</p></div> + +<p>Tradition tells us that this vegetarian lived mainly on ‘dump,’ in various +forms. Usually he ate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> ‘plain dump;’ when tired of plain dump, he changed +his diet to ‘hard dump;’ and when he was in a special state of +exhilaration, he added the variety ‘apple dump’ to his very moderate +fare.”</p> + +<p>On Saturday, the 2nd May, 1800, the remains of William Cowper were +interred in that part of Dereham Church known as St. Edmund’s Chapel. He +died without a will, but Lady Hesketh consented to administer his estate, +and eventually placed a tablet to his memory on the wall of the chancel, +near his grave. It is constructed of white marble, and over the top are +represented two volumes, labelled respectively “Holy Bible” and “The +Task.” The inscription as follows was written by Cowper’s friend, +Hayley:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Cowper</span>, Esq.,<br /> +Born in Hertfordshire in 1731,<br /> +Buried in this Church in 1801.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Ye who with warmth the public triumph feel<br /> +Of talents, dignified by sacred zeal,<br /> +Here, to devotion’s bard devoutly just,<br /> +Pay your fond tribute due to Cowper’s dust!<br /> +England, exulting in his spotless fame,<br /> +Ranks with her dearest sons his fav’rite name;<br /> +Sense, fancy, wit, suffice not all to raise<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>So clear a title to affection’s praise;<br /> +His highest honours to the heart belong;<br /> +His virtues form’d the magic of his song.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Charles and Mary Lamb are buried in the churchyard of Edmonton, and a +white headstone, marks the spot, on which is recorded, in bold black +letters, the following inscription written by Lamb’s friend, the Rev. +Henry Francis Cary, the translator of Dante:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">To the memory<br /> +of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Charles Lamb</span>,<br /> +died 27th December 1834, aged 59.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Farewell, dear friend, that smile, that harmless mirth,<br /> +No more shall gladden our domestic hearth;<br /> +That rising tear, with pain forbid to flow,<br /> +Better than words no more assuage our woe;<br /> +That hand outstretched from small but well-earned store,<br /> +Yield succour to the destitute no more,<br /> +Yet art thou not all lost, thro’ many an age<br /> +With sterling sense of humour shall thy page<br /> +Win many an English bosom pleased to see<br /> +That old and happier vein revived in thee.<br /> +This for our earth, and if with friends we share<br /> +Our joys in heaven we hope to meet thee there.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">Also <span class="smcap">Mary Anne Lamb</span>,<br /> +Sister of the above.<br /> +Born 3rd December 1767, Died 20th May 1847.</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>In the church is a memorial to Lamb and Cowper. It occupies a good +position at the west end of the north wall, and consists of two inscribed +white marble panels, enshrined in a graceful freestone design, the arches +of which are supported by veined marble pilasters. In the upper portion of +each panel is carved a portrait in relief, the one on the right showing +the head of Cowper, while on the left the features of Lamb are +characteristically depicted.</p> + +<p>The following are the inscriptions contained on the memorial:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center">(<i>Left panel.</i>)<br /> +In memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Charles Lamb</span><br /> +“The Gentle Elia” and author of<br /> +Tales from Shakespeare, etc.<br /> +Born in the Inner Temple 1775<br /> +educated at Christ’s Hospital<br /> +died at Bay Cottage Edmonton 1834<br /> +and buried beside his sister Mary<br /> +in the adjoining churchyard.</p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>At the centre of his being lodged<br /> +A soul by resignation sanctified<br /> +O, he was good if e’er a good man lived!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><span class="smcap">Wordsworth.</span></span></td></tr></table> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">(<i>Right panel.</i>)<br /> +In memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Cowper, the Poet</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>Born in Berkhampstead 1731<br /> +Died and buried at East Dereham 1800.<br /> +He was the author of<br /> +The Diverting History of “John Gilpin.”</p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>John Gilpin was a citizen<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of credit and renown,</span><br /> +A trainband captain eke was he<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of famous London town.</span><br /> +<br /> +John Gilpin’s spouse said to her dear,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though wedded we have been</span><br /> +These twice ten tedious years, yet we<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No holiday have seen.</span><br /> +<br /> +To-morrow is our wedding day,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we will then repair</span><br /> +Unto “the Bell” at Edmonton,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All in a chaise and pair, etc.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">(<i>Along base of design.</i>)</p> + +<p>This monument to commemorate the visit of the London and Middlesex +Archæological Association/ to Edmonton church and parish on the 26th +July 1888/ was erected by the President of the Meeting Joshua W. +Butterworth, <span class="smcaplc">F.S.A.</span></p></div> + +<p>For some years we have been interested in the life and poetry of Mary +Pyper, “A Poet of the Poor,” and in our “Literary Byways” have told at +length the story of her career. We there state, through the exertions of +Dr. Rogers in May, 1885, a handsome cross was erected over her remains in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +Greyfriars’ churchyard, Edinburgh, simply bearing her name, “Mary Pyper.” +Such was the information we received from a friend whom we induced to see +the memorial and give us particulars of it, and to our surprise when we +visited her grave in April, 1899, we found on the cross the following +inscription, which we presume has been added since its erection:—</p> + +<p class="center">By admiring<br /> +Friends<br /> +Erected<br /> +in memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mary Pyper</span>,<br /> +who amidst<br /> +untoward<br /> +surroundings<br /> +cherished<br /> +her gift as a writer of<br /> +sacred verse.<br /> +Born 25th May,<br /> +1795.<br /> +She died at<br /> +Edinburgh,<br /> +25th May, 1870.<br /> +Let me go! The day is breaking;<br /> +Morning bursts upon the eye;<br /> +Death this mortal frame is shaking,<br /> +But the soul can never die!</p> + +<p>The lines are from her poem entitled “The Christian’s View of Death,” +which finds a place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> in several standard works of poetry. Her best known +production is an “Epitaph: A Life,” and often attributed incorrectly to +German sources. It is as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>“I came at morn—’twas Spring, and smiled,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fields with green were clad;</span><br /> +I walked abroad at noon, and lo!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">’Twas Summer—I was glad.</span><br /> +I sate me down—’twas Autumn eve,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I with sadness wept;</span><br /> +I laid me down at night—and then<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">’Twas Winter—and I slept.”</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>Among self-taught poets Mary Pyper is entitled to an honourable place.</p> + +<p>Mr. John T. Page furnishes us with the following inscriptions copied from +Hogarth’s monument in Chiswick churchyard. It was erected, says Mr. Page, +in 1771, seven years after his death, and is a tall piece of masonry +crowned with a funeral urn. Beneath this, on the side facing the church, +are carved in low relief a mask, maul-stick, palette and brushes, a laurel +wreath and an open book bearing the title of his famous “Analysis of +Beauty.” On the same side, on a small block of Aberdeen granite at the +foot of the memorial, is recorded the fact that it was</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +Restored by<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Hogarth</span>,<br /> +of Aberdeen,<br /> +in 1856.</p> + +<p>It has well stood the “storm and stress” since then, but is now beginning +to show signs of the need of another restoration, for, on the east side, +over the inscription, the combined armorial bearings of Hogarth and his +wife are as nearly as possible obliterated.</p> + +<p>The inscriptions are as follows:—</p> + +<p class="center">(<i>N. Side.</i>)</p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Farewell great Painter of mankind!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who reach’d the noblest point of Art,</span><br /> +Whose <i>pictur’d Morals</i> charm the Mind,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And through the Eye correct the Heart.</span><br /> +<br /> +If <i>Genius</i> fire thee, Reader, stay;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If <i>Nature</i> touch thee, drop a Tear;</span><br /> +If neither move thee, turn away,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For <span class="smcap">Hogarth’s</span> honour’d dust lies here.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;"><span class="smcap">D. Garrick.</span></span></td></tr></table> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">(<i>E. Side.</i>)<br /> +Here lieth the body<br /> +of <span class="smcap">William Hogarth, Esqr.</span>,<br /> +who died October the 26th 1764<br /> +aged 67 years<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Jane Hogarth</span><br /> +wife of William Hogarth Esqr.<br /> +Obit. the 13th of November 1789<br /> +Ætat 80 years.</p> + +<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> +<p class="center">(<i>W. Side.</i>)<br /> +Here lieth the Body<br /> +of <span class="smcap">Mrs. Anne Hogarth</span> Sister<br /> +to <span class="smcap">William Hogarth Esqr.</span><br /> +She died August the 13th 1771<br /> +aged 70 years<br /> +Also the Body of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mary Lewis</span> Spinster<br /> +died 25th March 1808<br /> +Aged 88 years.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">(<i>S. Side.</i>)<br /> +Here lieth the Body<br /> +of <span class="smcap">Dame Judith Thornhill</span><br /> +Relict of <span class="smcap">Sr James Thornhill Knight</span><br /> +of Thornhill in the County of Dorset<br /> +She died November the 12th 1757<br /> +aged 84 years.</p> + +<p>The lapse of one hundred and thirty years, says Mr. Page, has not served +to dim the ardour with which the works of William Hogarth are cherished by +the English nation. His “Harlot’s Progress” not only served to reconcile +his father-in-law, Sir James Thornhill, to the runaway match the plebeian +Hogarth had contracted three years before with his daughter, but it is +still looked upon as his <i>chef d’œuvre</i> by many eminent critics; and +there is nearly always to be seen a crowd round his “Marriage a la Mode” +in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> National Gallery. The virulent contest with Wilkes and Churchill, +with which his last days were embittered, has long ago been forgotten, and +the name of William Hogarth still lives, and will be popular for all time +through his admired series of paintings and engravings, which are prized +and hoarded with an ever-increasing love by their happy possessors.</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img12.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">ETTY’S GRAVE.</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>Fairholt, in his “Homes, Works, and Shrines<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +of English Artists”<a name='fna_3' id='fna_3' href='#f_3'><small>[3]</small></a> gives +an interesting sketch of the career of William Etty, the son of a miller, +who for seven years was an apprentice to a printer in Hull, but devoted +all his spare time to art, and eventually after many struggles won a high +place amongst the painters of the period. He was buried in the churchyard +of St. Olave, York, where from the beautiful grounds of the Yorkshire +Philosophical Society, and through one of the arches of the ruined Abbey +of St. Mary, his tomb may be seen. The arch near his grave was closed, but +was opened to bring in sight his tomb. Mr. Fairholt is in error in saying +it bears the simple inscription:—</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">William Etty, Royal Academician.</span></p> + +<p>Some years ago from the other side of the tomb we copied the following +inscription from a crumbling stone:—</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">William Etty, Royal Academician</span>,<br /> +Who in his brilliant works has left<br /> +an enduring monument of his exalted genius.<br /> +Earnestly aiming to attain that lofty position on which<br /> +his highly gifted talents have placed him, he throughout life<br /> +exhibited an undeviating perseverance in his profession.<br /> +To promote its advancement in his beloved country he watched the progress<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>of those engaged in its study with the most disinterested kindness.<br /> +To a cultivated and highly poetical mind<br /> +Were united a cheerfulness and sweetness of disposition<br /> +With great simplicity and urbanity of manners.<br /> +He was richly endeared to all who knew him.<br /> +His piety was unaffected, his faith in Christ sincere,<br /> +and his devotion to God exemplary.<br /> +He was born at York, March 10th, 1787, and died<br /> +in his native city, November 13th, 1849.<br /> +“Why seek ye the living among the dead?”—Luke xxii., 5.</p> + +<p>Etty, says Fairholt, had that wisdom which few men possess, the wisdom of +a contented mind. He loved his quiet home, in his provincial birthplace, +better than the bustle of London, or the notoriety he might obtain by a +residence there. His character and his talent would ensure him attention +and deference anywhere, but he preferred his own nook by the old church at +York. He probably felt with the poet, that</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>“The wind is strongest on the highest hills,<br /> +The quiet life is in the vale below.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>The remains of Cruikshank rest in the crypt in St. Paul’s Cathedral, +London, and over his grave the following inscription appears:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">George Cruikshank</span>,<br /> +Artist,<br /> +Designer, Etcher, Painter.<br /> +Born at No. — Duke Street, St. George’s, Bloomsbury, London<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>on September 27th, 1792.<br /> +Died at 263, Hampstead Road, St. Pancras, London,<br /> +on February 1st, 1878.<br /> +Aged 86 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>In memory of his Genius and his Art,<br /> +His matchless Industry and worthy Work<br /> +For all his fellow-men, This monument<br /> +Is humbly placed within this sacred Fane<br /> +By her who loved him best, his widowed wife.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">Eliza Cruikshank,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Feb. 9th, 1880.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>A sketch of his life has been written by Walter Hamilton, under the title +of “George Cruikshank, Artist and Humourist.” (London: Elliot Stock, +1878.) William Bates, <span class="smcaplc">B.A.</span>, <span class="smcaplc">M.R.C.S.</span>, wrote “George Cruikshank, the +Artist, the Humourist, and the Man, with Some Account of his Brother +Robert.” (Birmingham: Houghton & Hammond, 1878.) Blanchard Jerrold wrote +“The Life of George Cruikshank.” (London: Chatto & Windus, a new edition +with eighty-four illustrations, 1883.) An able article contributed to the +<i>Westminster Review</i>, by William Makepeace Thackeray, has been reproduced +in book form by George Redway, London (1884). Some time ago the following +appeared in a newspaper:—One day while Dr. B. W. Richardson was engaged +at his house with an old patient who had been away many years in India, +George Cruikshank’s card<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> was handed to the doctor. “It must be the +grandson, or the son, at any rate, of the great artist I remember as a +boy,” said the patient. “It is impossible that George Cruikshank of Queen +Caroline’s trial-time can be alive!” The doctor asked the vivacious George +to come in. He tripped in, in his eighty-fourth year, and, when the old +officer expressed his astonishment, George exclaimed, “I’ll show you +whether he is alive!” With this he took the poker and tongs from the +grate, laid them upon the carpet, and executed the sword dance before Dr. +Richardson’s astonished patient.</p> + +<p>At the east end of the High Street, Portsmouth, and nearly opposite the +house before which the Duke of Buckingham was stabbed by Felton, in 1628, +stands the Unitarian Chapel. John Pounds habitually worshipped here on a +Sunday evening, and the place where he used to sit, in front of one of the +side galleries, just to the right of the minister, is still pointed out. +He lies buried in the graveyard, on the left-hand side of the chapel, near +the end of the little foot-path which leads round the building to the +vestries. Shortly after his death a tablet was placed in the chapel, +beneath the gallery, to his memory. Although his grave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> was dug as near as +possible to that part of the chapel wall opposite where he used to sit, +yet this tablet was, apparently without any reason, put some distance away +from the spot. In shape and material it is of the usual orthodox style—a +square slab of white marble, edged with black, and inscribed on it are the +words:—</p> + +<p class="center">Erected by friends<br /> +as a memorial of their esteem<br /> +and respect for<br /> +<span class="smcap">John Pounds</span>,<br /> +who, while earning his livelihood<br /> +by mending shoes, gratuitously<br /> +educated, and in part clothed and fed,<br /> +some hundreds of poor children.<br /> +He died suddenly<br /> +on the 1st of January, 1839,<br /> +aged 72 years.<br /> +Thou shalt be blessed: for they<br /> +cannot recompense thee.</p> + +<p>Not long after this tablet was placed in position the idea was mooted that +a monument should be erected over his grave. The Rev. Henry Hawkes, the +minister who then had charge of the place, at once took the matter up, and +subscriptions came in so well that the monument was more than paid for. +The surplus money was wisely laid out in the purchase of a Memorial +Library, which still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> occupies one of the ante-rooms of the chapel. The +monument erected over the grave is of a suitable description, plain but +substantial, and is in form a square and somewhat tapering block of stone +about four feet high. On the front is the following inscription:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">Underneath this Monument<br /> +rest the mortal remains of<br /> +<span class="smcap">John Pounds</span>,<br /> +the Philanthropic Shoemaker<br /> +of St. Mary’s Street, Portsmouth,<br /> +who while<br /> +working at his trade in a very<br /> +small room, gratuitously<br /> +instructed in a useful education<br /> +and partly clothed and fed,<br /> +some hundreds of girls and boys.<br /> +He died suddenly,<br /> +on New Year’s Day, <span class="smcaplc">MDCCCXXXIX</span>,<br /> +while in his active beneficence,<br /> +aged <span class="smcaplc">LXXII</span> years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>“Well done thou good and faithful<br /> +servant, enter thou into the joy<br /> +of thy Lord.”<br /> +<br /> +“Verily I say unto thee, inasmuch as<br /> +thou hast done it unto one of the<br /> +least of these My brethren, thou<br /> +hast done it unto Me.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>On the side facing the library door there are, in addition to the above, +the ensuing sentences:—</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +This Monument<br /> +has been erected chiefly<br /> +by means of Penny Subscriptions,<br /> +not only from the Christian<br /> +Brotherhood<br /> +with whom <span class="smcap">John Pounds</span><br /> +habitually worshipped<br /> +in the adjoining Chapel,<br /> +but from persons of widely<br /> +different Religious opinions<br /> +throughout Great Britain<br /> +and from the most distant parts<br /> +of the World.<br /> +<br /> +In connection with this memorial<br /> +has also been founded in like manner<br /> +within these precincts<br /> +a Library to his memory<br /> +designed to extend<br /> +to an indefinite futurity<br /> +the solid mental and moral usefulness<br /> +to which the philanthropic shoemaker<br /> +was so earnestly devoted<br /> +to the last day of his life.<br /> +Pray for the blessing of God to prosper it.</p> + +<p>Large trees overshade the modest monument, and the spot is a quiet one, +being as far as possible away from the street.<a name='fna_4' id='fna_4' href='#f_4'><small>[4]</small></a></p> + +<p>On the gravestone of Richard Turner, Preston, a hawker of fish, the +following inscription appears:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>Beneath this stone are +deposited the remains of <span class="smcap">Richard Turner</span>, author +of the word Teetotal, as applied to abstinence from all intoxicating +liquors, who departed this life on the 27th day of October, 1846, aged 56 years.</p></div> + +<p>In Mr. W. E. A. Axon’s able and entertaining volume, “Lancashire +Gleanings” (pub. 1883), is an interesting chapter on the “Origin of the +Word ‘Teetotal.’” In the same work we are told that Dr. Whitaker, the +historian of Whalley, wrote the following epitaph on a model publican:—</p> + +<p class="center">Here lies the Body of<br /> +<span class="smcap">John Wigglesworth</span>,<br /> +More than fifty years he was the<br /> +perpetual Innkeeper in this Town.<br /> +Withstanding the temptations of that dangerous calling,<br /> +he maintained good order in his<br /> +House, kept the Sabbath day Holy,<br /> +frequented the Public Worship<br /> +with his Family, induced his guests<br /> +to do the same, and regularly<br /> +partook of the Holy Communion.<br /> +He was also bountiful to the Poor,<br /> +in private as well as in public,<br /> +and, by the blessings of Providence<br /> +on a life so spent, died<br /> +possessed of competent Wealth,<br /> +Feb. 28, 1813,<br /> +aged 77 years.</p> + +<p>The churchyard of Sutton Coldfield, Warwickshire,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> contains a gravestone +bearing an inscription as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">As a warning to female virtue,<br /> +And a humble monument of female chastity,<br /> +This stone marks the grave of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mary Ashford</span>,<br /> +Who, in the 20th year of her age, having<br /> +Incautiously repaired to a scene of amusement,<br /> +Was brutally violated and murdered<br /> +On the 27th of May, 1817.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Lovely and chaste as the primrose pale,<br /> +Rifled of virgin sweetness by the gale,<br /> +Mary! the wretch who thee remorseless slew<br /> +Avenging wrath, who sleeps not, will pursue;<br /> +For though the deed of blood was veiled in night,<br /> +Will not the Judge of all mankind do right?<br /> +Fair blighted flower, the muse that weeps thy doom,<br /> +Rears o’er thy murdered form this warning tomb.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The writer of the foregoing epitaph was Dr. Booker, vicar of Dudley. The +inscription is associated with one of the most remarkable trials of the +present century. It will not be without interest to furnish a few notes on +the case. One Abraham Thornton was tried at the Warwick Assizes for the +murder of Mary Ashford, and acquitted. The brother and next of kin of the +deceased, not being satisfied with the verdict, sued out, as the law +allowed him, an appeal against Thornton, by which he could be put on his +trial<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> again. The law allowed the appeal in case of murder, and it also +gave option to the accused of having it tried by wager of law or by wager +of battle. The brother of the unfortunate woman had taken no account of +this, and accordingly, not only Mr. Ashford but the judge, jury, and bar +were taken greatly aback, and stricken with dismay, when the accused, +being requested to plead, took a paper from Mr. Reader, his counsel, and a +pair of gloves, one of which he drew on, and, throwing the other on the +ground, exclaimed, “Not guilty; and I am ready to defend the same with my +body!” Lord Ellenborough on the bench appeared grave, and the accuser +looked amazed, so the court was adjourned to enable the judge to have an +opportunity of conferring with his learned brethren. After several +adjournments, Lord Ellenborough at last declared solemnly, but +reluctantly, that wager of battle was still the law of the land, and that +the accused had a right of appeal to it. To get rid of the law an attempt +was made, by passing a short and speedy Act of Parliament, but this was +ruled impossible, as it would have been <i>ex post facto</i>, and people waited +curiously to see the lists set up in the Tothill Fields. As Mr. Ashford<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +refused to meet Thornton, he was obliged to cry “craven!” After that the +appellor was allowed to go at large, and he could not be again tried by +wager of law after having claimed his wager of battle. In 1819 an Act was +passed to prevent any further appeals for wager of battle.</p> + +<p>The following is from a gravestone in Saddleworth churchyard, and tells a +painful story:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Here lie interred the dreadfully bruised and lacerated bodies of +<span class="smcap">William Bradbury</span> and <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> his son, both of Greenfield, who were +together savagely murdered, in an unusually horrible manner, on Monday +night, April 2nd, 1832, old William being 84, and Thomas 46 years old.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Throughout the land, wherever news is read,<br /> +Intelligence of their sad death has spread;<br /> +Those now who talk of far-fam’d Greenfield’s hills<br /> +Will think of Bill o’ Jacks and Tom o’ Bills.<br /> +<br /> +Such interest did their tragic end excite<br /> +That, ere they were removed from human sight,<br /> +Thousands upon thousands daily came to see<br /> +The bloody scene of the catastrophe.<br /> +<br /> +One house, one business, and one bed,<br /> +And one most shocking death they had;<br /> +One funeral came, one inquest pass’d,<br /> +And now one grave they have at last.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>The following on a Hull character is from South Cave churchyard:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In memory of <span class="smcap">Thomas Scratchard</span>,<br /> +Who dy’d rich in friends, Dec. 10, 1809.<br /> +Aged 58 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>That Ann lov’d Tom, is very true,<br /> +Perhaps you’ll say, what’s that to you.<br /> +Who e’er thou art, remember this,<br /> +Tom lov’d Ann, ’twas that made bliss.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In Welton churchyard, near Hull, the next curious inscription appears on +an old gravestone:—</p> + +<p class="center">Here lieth He ould<br /> +Jeremy who hath<br /> +eight times maried<br /> +been but now in his<br /> +ould age he lies<br /> +in his cage under<br /> +the grass so green<br /> +which <span class="smcap">Jeremiah Simp-<br /> +son</span> departed this<br /> +Life in the 84 yeare<br /> +of his age in the<br /> +year of our Lord<br /> +1719.</p> + +<p>According to “Shropshire Folk-Lore” (published 1883), Edward Burton, of +Longner, Shrewsbury, died in 1558, and in the garden of Longner Hall is a +plain altar-tomb, dated 1614. He was a zealous Protestant, and died +suddenly of excitement on hearing Shrewsbury bells ring for the accession +of Queen Elizabeth. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> minister of St. Chad’s Church, Shrewsbury, +refused to permit his body to be buried there; it was therefore taken home +again and laid in his garden:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Was’t for denying Christ, or some notorious fact,<br /> +That this man’s body Christian burial lackt?<br /> +Oh no; his faithful true profession<br /> +Was the chief cause, what then was held transgression.<br /> +When Pop’ry here did reign, the See of Rome<br /> +Would not admit to any such, a tomb<br /> +Within their Idol Temple Walls, but he,<br /> +Truly professing Christianity,<br /> +Was like Christ Jesus in a garden laid,<br /> +Where he shall rest in peace till it be said,<br /> +“Come, faithful servant, come, receive with Me,<br /> +A just reward of thy integrity.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>Mr. J. Potter Briscoe favours us with an account of a Nottingham +character, and a copy of his epitaph. Vincent Eyre was by trade a +needle-maker, and was a firm and consistent Tory in politics, taking an +active interest in all the party struggles of the period. His good nature +and honesty made him popular among the poorer classes, with whom he +chiefly associated. A commendable trait in his character is worthy of +special mention, namely, that, notwithstanding frequent temptations, he +spurned to take a bribe from anyone. In the year 1727 an election for a +Member of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> Parliament took place, and all the ardour of Vin’s nature was +at once aroused in the interests of his favourite party. The Tory +candidate, Mr. Borlase Warren, was opposed by Mr. John Plumtree, the Whig +nominee, and, in the heat of the excitement, Vin emphatically declared +that he should not mind dying immediately if the Tories gained the +victory. Strange to relate, such an event actually occurred, for when the +contest and the “chairing” of the victor was over, he fell down dead with +joy, September 6th, 1727. The epitaph upon him is as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here lies <span class="smcap">Vin Eyre</span>;<br /> +Let fall a tear<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For one true man of honour;</span><br /> +No courtly lord,<br /> +Who breaks his word,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will ever be a mourner.</span><br /> +In freedom’s cause<br /> +He stretched his jaws,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Exhausted all his spirit,</span><br /> +Then fell down dead.<br /> +It must be said<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was a man of merit.</span><br /> +Let Freemen be<br /> +As brave as he,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And vote without a guinea;</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Vin Eyre</span> is hurled<br /> +To t’other world,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And ne’er took bribe or penny.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span><br /> +True to his friend, to helpless parent kind,<br /> +He died in honour’s cause, to interest blind.<br /> +Why should we grieve life’s but an airy toy?<br /> +We vainly weep for him who died of joy.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The following lines to the memory of Thomas Stokes are from his gravestone +in Burton churchyard, upon which a profile of his head is cut. He for many +years swept the roads in Burton:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">This stone<br /> +was raised by Subscription<br /> +to the memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Thomas Stokes</span>,<br /> +an eccentric, but much respected,<br /> +Deaf and Dumb man,<br /> +better known by the name of<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Dumb Tom</span>,”<br /> +who departed this life Feb. 25th, 1837,<br /> +aged 54 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>What man can pause and charge this senseless dust<br /> +With fraud, or subtilty, or aught unjust?<br /> +How few can conscientiously declare<br /> +Their acts have been as honourably fair?<br /> +No gilded bait, no heart ensnaring need<br /> +Could bribe poor <span class="smcap">Stokes</span> to one dishonest deed.<br /> +Firm in attachment to his friends most true—<br /> +Though Deaf and Dumb, he was excell’d by few.<br /> +Go ye, by nature form’d without defect,<br /> +And copy Tom, and gain as much respect.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Next we deal with an instance of pure affection. The churchyard of the +Yorkshire village of Bowes contains the grave of two lovers, whose +touching<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> fate suggested Mallet’s beautiful ballad of “Edwin and Emma.” +The real names of the couple were Rodger Wrightson and Martha Railton. The +story is rendered with no less accuracy than pathos by the poet:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Far in the windings of the vale,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fast by a sheltering wood,</span><br /> +The safe retreat of health and peace,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A humble cottage stood.</span><br /> +<br /> +There beauteous Emma flourished fair,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beneath a mother’s eye;</span><br /> +Whose only wish on earth was now<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see her blest and die.</span><br /> +<br /> +Long had she filled each youth with love,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each maiden with despair,</span><br /> +And though by all a wonder owned,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet knew not she was fair.</span><br /> +<br /> +Till Edwin came, the pride of swains,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A soul devoid of art;</span><br /> +And from whose eyes, serenely mild,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shone forth the feeling heart.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>We are told that Edwin’s father and sister were bitterly opposed to their +love. The poor youth pined away. When he was dying Emma was permitted to +see him, but the cruel sister would scarcely allow her to bid him a word +of farewell. Returning home, she heard the passing bell toll for the death +of her lover—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Just then she reached, with trembling step,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her aged mother’s door—</span><br /> +“He’s gone!” she cried, “and I shall see<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That angel face no more!”</span><br /> +<br /> +“I feel, I feel this breaking heart<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beat high against my side”—</span><br /> +From her white arm down sunk her head;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She, shivering, sighed, and died.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>The lovers were buried the same day and in the same grave. In the year +1848, Dr. F. Dinsdale, <span class="smcaplc">F.S.A.</span>, editor of the “Ballads and Songs of David +Mallet,” etc., erected a simple but tasteful monument to the memory of the +lovers, bearing the following inscription:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Rodger Wrightson</span>, junr., and <span class="smcap">Martha Railton</span>, both of Bowes; buried in +one grave. He died in a fever, and upon tolling of his passing bell, +she cry’d out My heart is broken and in a few hours expired, purely +thro’ love, March 15, 1714-15. Such is the brief and touching record +contained in the parish register of burials. It has been handed down +by unvarying tradition that the grave was at the west end of the +church, directly beneath the bells. The sad history of these true and +faithful lovers forms the subject of Mallet’s pathetic ballad of +“Edwin and Emma.”<a name='fna_5' id='fna_5' href='#f_5'><small>[5]</small></a></p></div> + +<p>In Middleton Tyas Church, near Richmond, is the following:—</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +This Monument rescues from Oblivion<br /> +the Remains of the Reverend <span class="smcap">John Mawer</span>, <span class="smcaplc">D.D.</span>,<br /> +Late vicar of this Parish, who died Nov. 18, 1763, aged 60.<br /> +As also of <span class="smcap">Hannah Mawer</span>, his wife, who died<br /> +Dec. 20th, 1766, aged 72.<br /> +Buried in this Chancel.<br /> +They were persons of eminent worth.<br /> +The Doctor was descended from the Royal Family<br /> +of Mawer, and was inferior to none of his illustrious<br /> +ancestors in personal merit, being the greatest<br /> +Linguist this Nation ever produced.<br /> +He was able to speak & write twenty-two Languages,<br /> +and particularly excelled in the Eastern Tongues,<br /> +in which he proposed to His Royal Highness<br /> +Frederick Prince of Wales, to whom he was firmly<br /> +attached, to propagate the Christian Religion<br /> +in the Abyssinian Empire; a great and noble<br /> +Design, which was frustrated by the<br /> +Death of that amiable Prince; to the great mortification of<br /> +this excellent Person, whose merit meeting with<br /> +no reward in this world, will, it’s to be hoped, receive<br /> +it in the next, from that Being which Justice<br /> +only can influence.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> +<h2>Miscellaneous Epitaphs.</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">We</span> bring together under this heading a number of specimens that we could +not include in the foregoing chapters of classified epitaphs.</p> + +<p>An epitaph on a brass in the south aisle of Barton Church, in Norfolk, is +notable as being one of the oldest in existence in English, such memorials +being usually in Latin at the period from which it dates. The inscription +is as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here are laid under this stone in the cley<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Thomas Amys</span> and his wyffe <span class="smcap">Margery</span>.</span><br /> +Sometime we were, as you now be,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And as we be, after this so shall ye.</span><br /> +Of the good as God had, the said Thomas lent,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did make this chapel of a good intent.</span><br /> +Wherefore they desire of you that be<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To pray for them to the last eternity.</span><br /> +I beseach all people far and ner<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To pray for me <span class="smcap">Thomas Amys</span> heartily,</span><br /> +Which gave a mesbooke and made this chapel here,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a suit of blew damask also gave I.</span><br /> +Of God 1511 and 5 yere<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I the said Thomas deceased verily,</span><br /> +And the 4th day of August was buried here,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On whose soul God have mercy.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>In the churchyard of Stanton Harcourt is a gravestone bearing the +following inscription:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">Near this place lie the bodies of<br /> +<span class="smcap">John Hewet</span> and <span class="smcap">Mary Drew</span>,<br /> +an industrious young Man<br /> +and virtuous Maiden of this Parish;<br /> +Who, being at Harvest Work<br /> +(with several others)<br /> +were in one instant killed by Lightning<br /> +the last day of July 1718.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Think not, by rig’rous Judgment seiz’d,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Pair so faithful could expire;</span><br /> +Victims so pure Heav’n saw well pleas’d,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And snatch’d them in celestial fire.</span><br /> +<br /> +Live well, and fear no sudden fate;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When God calls Virtue to the grave,</span><br /> +Alike ’tis Justice soon or late,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mercy alike to kill or save.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Virtue unmov’d can hear the call,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And face the flash that melts the ball.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>According to a letter from Gay, the poet, to Fenton, relating the death of +the pair, who were lovers, this epitaph was written by Pope, and the +memorial erected at the cost of Lord Harcourt on the condition that Gay or +Pope should write the epitaph. Gay gives the following as the joint +production of the two poets:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>When Eastern lovers feed the fun’ral fire,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>On the same pile the faithful pair expire:<br /> +Here pitying Heav’n that virtue mutual found,<br /> +And blasted both, that it might neither wound.<br /> +Hearts so sincere th’ Almighty saw well pleas’d,<br /> +Sent his own lightning, and the victims seiz’d.</td></tr></table> + +<p>“But,” wrote Gay, “my Lord is apprehensive the country people will not +understand this; and Mr. Pope says he’ll make one with something of +Scripture in it, and with as little of poetry as Hopkins and Sternhold.” +Hence the lines which appear on the tomb of the lovers.</p> + +<p>Our next example is from Bury St. Edmunds churchyard:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">Here lies interred the Body of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mary Haselton</span>,<br /> +A young maiden of this town,<br /> +Born of Roman Catholic parents,<br /> +And virtuously brought up,<br /> +Who, being in the act of prayer<br /> +Repeating her vespers,<br /> +Was instantaneously killed by a<br /> +flash of Lightning, August 16th,<br /> +1785. Aged 9 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Not Siloam’s ruinous tower the victims slew,<br /> +Because above the many sinn’d the few,<br /> +Nor here the fated lightning wreaked its rage<br /> +By vengeance sent for crimes matur’d by age.<br /> +For whilst the thunder’s awful voice was heard,<br /> +The little suppliant with its hands uprear’d.<br /> +Addressed her God in prayers the priest had taught,<br /> +His mercy craved, and His protection sought;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>Learn reader hence that wisdom to adore,<br /> +Thou canst not scan and fear His boundless power;<br /> +Safe shalt thou be if thou perform’st His will,<br /> +Blest if he spares, and more blest should He kill.</td></tr></table> + +<p>From Bury St. Edmunds is the following inscription which tells a sad story +of the low value placed on human life at the close of the eighteenth +century:—</p> + +<p class="center">Reader,<br /> +Pause at this humble stone it records<br /> +The fall of unguarded youth by the allurements of<br /> +vice and treacherous snares of seduction.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sarah Lloyd</span><br /> +On the 23rd April, 1800, in the 22nd year of her age,<br /> +Suffered a just and ignominious death.<br /> +For admitting her abandoned seducer in the<br /> +dwelling-house of her mistress, on the 3rd of<br /> +October, 1799, and becoming the instrument in<br /> +his hands of the crime of robbery and<br /> +housebreaking.<br /> +These were her last words:<br /> +“May my example be a warning to thousands.”</p> + +<p>A lover at York inscribed the following lines to his sweetheart, who was +accidentally drowned, December 24th, 1796:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Nigh to the river Ouse, in York’s fair city,<br /> +Unto this pretty maid death shew’d no pity;<br /> +As soon as she’d her pail with water fill’d<br /> +Came sudden death, and life like water spill’d.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In Holy Trinity Church, Hull, is an elegant marble monument by Earle, with +figures of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> mother and two children. The inscription tells a painful +story, and is as follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Our John William</span>,</p> + +<p>In the sixteenth year of his age, on the night of January 19th, 1858, +was swept by the fury of a storm, from the pierhead, into the sea. We +never found him—he was not, for God took him; the waves bore him to +the hollow of the Father’s hand. With hope and joy we cherished our +last surviving flower, but the wind passed over it, and it was gone.</p> + +<p>An infant brother had gone before, October 15th, 1841. In heaven their +angel does always behold the face of our Father.</p> + +<p class="center">To the memory of these</p> + +<p>We, their parents, John and Louisa Gray erect this monument of human +sorrow and Christian hope. “Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in +thy sight!”</p></div> + +<p>The record of the death of the parents follows.</p> + +<p>An accidental death is recorded on a tombstone in Burton Joyce churchyard, +placed to the memory of Elizabeth Cliff, who died in 1835:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>This monumental stone records the name<br /> +Of her who perished in the night by flame<br /> +Sudden and awful, for her hoary head;<br /> +She was brought here to sleep amongst the dead.<br /> +Her loving husband strove to damp the flame<br /> +Till he was nearly sacrificed the same,<br /> +Her sleeping dust, tho’ by thee rudely trod,<br /> +Proclaims aloud, prepare to meet thy God.</td></tr></table> + +<p>A tombstone in Creton churchyard states:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>On a Thursday she was born,<br /> +On a Thursday made a bride,<br /> +On a Thursday put to bed,<br /> +On a Thursday broke her leg, and<br /> +On a Thursday died.</td></tr></table> + +<p>From Kingsbridge, Devonshire, we have the following:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Here I lie, at the chancel door,<br /> +Here I lie, because I’m poor:<br /> +The farther in, the more you pay,<br /> +Here I lie as warm as they.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In the churchyard of Kirk Hallam, Derbyshire, a good specimen of a true +Englishman is buried, named Samuel Cleater, who died May 1st, 1811, aged +65 years. The two-lined epitaph has such a genuine, sturdy ring about it, +that it deserves to be rescued from oblivion:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>True to his King, his country was his glory,<br /> +When Bony won, he said it was a story.</td></tr></table> + +<p>A monument in Bakewell Church, Derbyshire, is a curiosity, blending as it +does in a remarkable manner business, loyalty, and religion:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>To the memory of <span class="smcap">Matthew Strutt</span>, of this town, farrier, long famed in +these parts for veterinary skill. A good neighbour, and a staunch +friend to Church and King. Being Churchwarden at the time the present +peal of bells were hung, through zeal for the house of God, and +unremitting attention to the airy business of the belfry, he caught a +cold, which terminated his existence, May 25, 1798, in the 68th year +of his age.</p></div> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img13.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">SHORTHAND EPITAPH IN OLD ST. MARY’S CHURCH, SCULCOATES.</p> +<p class="center"><i>From a Photo by Wellsted & Son, Hull.</i></p> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>The old church of St. Mary’s, Sculcoates, Hull, contains several +interesting monuments, and we give a picture from a specially taken +photograph for this volume of a quaint-looking mural memorial, having on +it an inscription in shorthand. In Sheahan’s “History of Hull,” the +following translation is given:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>In the vault beneath this stone lies the body of Mrs. <span class="smcap">Jane Delamoth</span>, +who departed this life, 10th January, 1761. She was a poor sinner, but +not wicked without holiness, departing from good works, and departed +in the faith of the Catholic Church, in full assurance of eternal +happiness, by the agony and bloody sweat, by the cross and passion, by +the precious death and burial, by the glorious resurrection and +ascension of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.</p></div> + +<p>We believe that the foregoing is a unique epitaph, at all events we have +not heard of or seen any other monumental inscription in shorthand.</p> + +<p>The following curious epitaph is from Wirksworth, Derbyshire:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center">Near this place lies the body of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Philip Shullcross</span>,</p> + +<p>Once an eminent Quill-driver to the attorneys in this Town. He died +the 17th of Nov., 1787, aged 67.</p> + +<p>Viewing Philip in a moral light, the most prominent and remarkable +features in his character were his zeal and invincible attachment to +dogs and cats, and his unbounded benevolence towards them, as well as +towards his fellow-creatures.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">To the Critic.</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Seek not to show the devious paths Phil trode,<br /> +Nor tear his frailties from their dread abode,<br /> +In modest sculpture let this tombstone tell,<br /> +That much esteem’d he lived, and much regretted fell.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>At Castleton, in the Peak of Derbyshire, is another curious epitaph, +partly in English and partly in Latin, to the memory of an attorney-at-law +named Micah Hall, who died in 1804. It is said to have been penned by +himself, and is more epigrammatic than reverent. It is as follows:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">To<br /> +The memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Micah Hall</span>, Gentleman,<br /> +Attorney-at-Law,<br /> +Who died on the 14th of May, 1804,<br /> +Aged 79 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 3em;">Quid eram, nescitis;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Quid sum, nescitis;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ubi abii, nescitis;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Valete.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>This verse has been rendered thus:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>What I was you know not—<br /> +What I am you know not—<br /> +Whither I am gone you know not—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Go about your business.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>In Sarnesfield churchyard, near Weobley, is the tombstone of John Abel, +the celebrated architect of the market-houses of Hereford, Leominster, +Knighton, and Brecknock, who died in the year<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> 1694, having attained the +ripe old age of ninety-seven. The memorial stone is adorned with three +statues in kneeling posture, representing Abel and his two wives; and also +displayed are the emblems of his profession—the rule, the compass, and +the square—the whole being designed and sculptured by himself. The +epitaph, a very quaint one, was also of his own writing, and runs thus:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>This craggy stone a covering is for an architector’s bed;<br /> +That lofty buildings raisèd high, yet now lyes low his head;<br /> +His line and rule, so death concludes, are lockèd up in store;<br /> +Build they who list, or they who wist, for he can build no more.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">His house of clay could hold no longer<br /> +May Heaven’s joys build him a stronger.<br /> +<span class="smcap">John Abel.</span><br /> +Vive ut vivas in vitam æternam.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In the churchyard of Walcott, Norfolk, the following cynical epitaph may +be seen:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">In memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Wiseman</span>,<br /> +who died 5th of August, 1834, aged 72 years.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Under this marble, or under this sill,<br /> +Or under this turf, or e’en what you will,<br /> +Whatever an heir, or a friend in his stead,<br /> +Or any good creature, shall lay o’er my head,<br /> +Lies one who ne’er cared, and still cares not a pin<br /> +What they said, or may say, of the mortal within,<br /> +But who, living and dying, serene, still, and free,<br /> +Trusts in God that as well as he was he shall be.</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>From Gilling churchyard, Richmondshire, is the following:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Unto the mournful fate of young <span class="smcap">John Moore</span>,<br /> +Who fell a victim to some villain’s power;<br /> +In Richmond Lane, near to Ask Hall, ’tis said,<br /> +There was his life most cruelly betray’d.<br /> +Shot with a gun, by some abandon’d rake,<br /> +Then knock’d o’ th’ head with a hedging stake,<br /> +His soul, I trust, is with the blest above,<br /> +There to enjoy eternal rest and love;<br /> +Then let us pray his murderer to discover,<br /> +That he to justice may be brought over.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The crime occurred in 1750, and the murderer was never discovered.</p> + +<p>From a gravestone in Patcham was copied the following inscription:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">Sacred to the memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Daniel Scales</span>,<br /> +who was unfortunately shot on Tuesday evening,<br /> +Nov. 7, 1796.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Alas! swift flew the fated lead,<br /> +Which pierced through the young man’s head,<br /> +He instant fell, resigned his breath,<br /> +And closed his languid eyes on death.<br /> +And you who to this stone draw near,<br /> +Oh! pray let fall the pitying tear,<br /> +From this sad instance may we all<br /> +Prepare to meet Jehovah’s call.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The real story of Scales’ death is given in Chambers’s “Book of Days,” and +is as follows: Daniel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> Scales was a desperate smuggler, and one night he, +with many more, was coming from Brighton heavily laden, when the Excise +officers and soldiers fell in with them. The smugglers fled in all +directions; a riding officer, as such persons were called, met this man, +and called upon him to surrender his booty, which he refused to do. The +officer knew that “he was too good a man for him, for they had tried it +out before; so he shot Daniel through the head.”</p> + +<p>The following inscription copied from a monument at Darfield, near +Barnsley, records a murder which occurred on the spot where the stone is +placed:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">Sacred<br /> +To the memory of<br /> +<span class="smcap">Thomas Depledge</span>,<br /> +Who was murdered at Darfield,<br /> +On the 11th of October, 1841.</td></tr> +<tr><td>At midnight drear by this wayside<br /> +A murdered man poor <span class="smcap">Depledge</span> died,<br /> +The guiltless victim of a blow<br /> +Aimed to have brought another low,<br /> +From men whom he had never harmed<br /> +By hate and drunken passions warmed.<br /> +Now learn to shun in youth’s fresh spring<br /> +The courses which to ruin bring.</td></tr></table> + +<p>A stone dated 1853, the Minster graveyard, Beverley, is placed to the +memory of the victim of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> a railway carriage tragedy, and bears the +following extraordinary inscription:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Mysterious was my cause of Death<br /> +In the Prime of Life I Fell;<br /> +For days I Lived yet ne’er had breath<br /> +The secret of my fate to tell.<br /> +Farewell my child and husband dear<br /> +By cruel hands I leave you,<br /> +Now that I’m dead, and sleeping here,<br /> +My Murderer may deceive you,<br /> +Though I am dead, yet I shall live,<br /> +I must my Murderer meet,<br /> +And then Evidence, shall give<br /> +My cause of death complete.<br /> +Forgive my child and husband dear,<br /> +That cruel Man of blood;<br /> +He soon for murder must appear<br /> +Before the Son of God.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Near the west end of Holy Trinity Church, Stalham, Norfolk, may be seen a +gravestone bearing the following inscription:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">James Amies</span>, 1831.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Here lies an honest independent man,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Boast more ye great ones if ye can;</span><br /> +I have been kicked by a bull and ram,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now let me lay contented as I am.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>The following singular verse occurs upon a tombstone contiguous to the +chancel door in Grindon churchyard, near Leek, Staffordshire:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Farewell, dear friends; to follow me prepare;<br /> +Also our loss we’d have you to beware,<br /> +And your own business mind. Let us alone,<br /> +For you have faults great plenty of your own.<br /> +Judge not of us, now We are in our Graves<br /> +Lest ye be Judg’d and awfull Sentence have;<br /> +For Backbiters, railers, thieves, and liars,<br /> +Must torment have in Everlasting Fires.</td></tr></table> + +<p>On a stone in the north aisle of the church of St. Peter of Mancroft, +Norwich, is the following pathetic inscription:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Susan Browne</span>, the last deceased of eleven children (the first ten +interr’d before the northern porch) from their surviving parents, John +and Susan his wife. She sought a city to come, and upon the 30th of +August departed hence and found it.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">A<sup>o</sup> Æt. 19. Dm. 1686.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Here lies a single Flower scarcely blowne,<br /> +Ten more, before the Northern Door are strowne,<br /> +Pluckt from the self-same Stalke, only to be<br /> +Transplanted to a better Nursery.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>From Hedon, in Holderness, East Yorkshire, is the following:—</p> + +<p class="center">Here lyeth the body of<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Strutton</span>, of Patrington,<br /> +Buried the 18<sup>th</sup> of May 1734<br /> +Aged 97.<br /> +Who had, by his first wife, twenty-eight children,<br /> +And by a second seventeen;<br /> +Own father to forty-five<br /> +Grand-father to eighty-six,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>Great Grand-father to ninety-seven,<br /> +And Great, Great-Grand-father to twenty-three;<br /> +In all two hundred and fifty-one.</p> + +<p>In Laurence Lideard churchyard, says Pettigrew, is a similar one:—</p> + +<p class="center">The man that rests in this grave has had 8 wives,<br /> +by whom he had 45 children, and 20 grand-<br /> +children. He was born rich, lived and<br /> +died poor, aged 94 years,<br /> +July 30th, 1774.<br /> +Born at Bewdley in Worcestershire in 1650.</p> + +<p>According to the epitaph of Ann Jennings at Wolstanton:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Some have children—some have none—<br /> +Here lies the mother of twenty-one.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The following quaint epitaph in Dalry Cemetery commemorates John +Robertson, a native of the United States, who died 29th September, 1860, +aged 22:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Oh, stranger! pause, and give one sigh<br /> +For the sake of him who here doth lie<br /> +Beneath this little mound of earth,<br /> +Two thousand miles from land of birth.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The Rev. William Mason, the Hull poet, married in 1765 Mary Sherman, of +Hull. Two years later she died of consumption at Bristol. In the Cathedral +of that city is a monument containing the following lines by her +husband:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Take, holy earth! all that my soul holds dear:<br /> +Take that best gift which heaven so lately gave:<br /> +To Bristol’s fount I bore with trembling care<br /> +Her faded form; she bow’d to taste the wave,<br /> +And died. Does youth, does beauty, read the line?<br /> +Does sympathetic fear their breasts alarm?<br /> +Speak, dead Maria! breathe a strain divine;<br /> +Ev’n from the grave thou shalt have power to charm.<br /> +Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee;<br /> +Bid them in duty’s sphere as meekly move;<br /> +And if so fair, from vanity as free;<br /> +As firm in friendship, and as fond in love—<br /> +Tell them, though ’tis an awful thing to die,<br /> +(’Twas e’en to thee) yet the dread path once trod,<br /> +Heav’n lifts its everlasting portals high,<br /> +And bids “the pure in heart behold their God.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>How different is the sentiment of the foregoing to the following, said by +Pettigrew and other compilers of collections of epitaphs to be inscribed +on a monument in a Cumberland church, but as a matter of fact it does not +exist on a memorial:—</p> + +<p class="center">Here lies the bodies<br /> +Of <span class="smcap">Thomas Bond</span> and <span class="smcap">Mary</span> his wife.<br /> +She was temperate, chaste, and charitable;<br /> +<span class="smcap">But</span><br /> +She was proud, peevish, and passionate.<br /> +She was an affectionate wife, and a tender mother:<br /> +<span class="smcap">But</span><br /> +Her husband and child, whom she loved,<br /> +Seldom saw her countenance without a disgusting frown,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>Whilst she received visitors, whom she despised, with an<br /> +endearing smile.<br /> +Her behaviour was discreet towards strangers;<br /> +<span class="smcap">But</span><br /> +Independent in her family.<br /> +Abroad, her conduct was influenced by good breeding;<br /> +<span class="smcap">But</span><br /> +At home, by ill temper.<br /> +She was a professed enemy to flattery,<br /> +And was seldom known to praise or commend;<br /> +<span class="smcap">But</span><br /> +The talents in which she principally excelled,<br /> +Were difference of opinion, and discovering flaws and<br /> +imperfections.<br /> +She was an admirable economist,<br /> +And, without prodigality,<br /> +Dispensed plenty to every person in her family;<br /> +<span class="smcap">But</span><br /> +Would sacrifice their eyes to a farthing candle.<br /> +She sometimes made her husband happy with her good<br /> +qualities;<br /> +<span class="smcap">But</span><br /> +Much more frequently miserable—with her many failings:<br /> +Insomuch that in thirty years cohabitation he often<br /> +lamented<br /> +That maugre of all her virtues,<br /> +He had not, in the whole, enjoyed two years of matrimonial<br /> +comfort.<br /> +<span class="smcap">At Length</span><br /> +Finding that she had lost the affections of her husband,<br /> +As well as the regard of her neighbours,<br /> +Family disputes having been divulged by servants,<br /> +She died of vexation, July 20, 1768,<br /> +Aged 48 years.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span><br /> +Her worn out husband survived her four months and two days,<br /> +And departed this life, Nov. 28, 1768,<br /> +In the 54th year of his age.<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Bond</span>, brother to the deceased, erected this stone,<br /> +As a <i>weekly monitor</i>, to the surviving wives of this parish,<br /> +That they may avoid the infamy<br /> +Of having their memories handed to posterity<br /> +With a <span class="smcap">Patch Work</span> character.</p> + +<p>In St. Peter’s churchyard, Barton-on-Humber, there is a tombstone with the +following strange inscription:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Doom’d to receive half my soul held dear,<br /> +The other half with grief, she left me here.<br /> +Ask not her name, for she was true and just;<br /> +Once a fine woman, but now a heap of dust.</td></tr></table> + +<p>As may be inferred, no name is given; the date is 1777. A curious and +romantic legend attaches to the epitaph. In the above year an unknown lady +of great beauty, who is conjectured to have loved “not wisely, but too +well,” came to reside in the town. She was accompanied by a gentleman, who +left her after making lavish arrangements for her comfort. She was proudly +reserved in her manners, frequently took long solitary walks, and +studiously avoided all intercourse. In giving birth to a child she died, +and did not disclose her name or family connections. After her decease, +the gentleman who came with her arrived, and was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> overwhelmed with grief +at the intelligence which awaited him. He took the child away without +unravelling the secret, having first ordered the stone to be erected, and +delivered into the mason’s hands the verse, which is at once a mystery and +a memento. Such are the particulars gathered from “The Social History and +Antiquities of Barton-on-Humber,” by H. W. Ball, issued in 1856. Since the +publication of Mr. Ball’s book, we have received from him the following +notes, which mar somewhat the romantic story as above related. We are +informed that the person referred to in the epitaph was the wife of a man +named Jonathan Burkitt, who came from the neighbourhood of Grantham. He +had been <i>valet de chambre</i> to some gentleman or nobleman, who gave him a +large sum of money on his marrying the lady. They came to reside at +Barton, where she died in childbirth. Burkitt, after the death of his +wife, left the town, taking the infant (a boy), who survived. In about +three years he returned, and married a Miss Ostler, daughter of an +apothecary at Barton. He there kept the “King’s Head,” a public-house at +that time. The man got through about £2,000 between leaving Grantham and +marrying his second wife.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>On the north wall of the chancel of Southam Church is a slab to the memory +of the Rev. Samuel Sands, who, being embarrassed in consequence of his +extensive liberality, committed suicide in his study (now the hall of the +rectory). The peculiarity of the inscription, instead of suppressing +inquiry, invariably raises curiosity respecting it:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Near this place was deposited, on the 23rd April, 1815, the remains of +S. S., 38 years rector of this parish.</p></div> + +<p>From St. Margaret’s, Lynn, on William Scrivenor, cook to the Corporation, +who died in 1684, we have the following epitaph:—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Alas! alas! <span class="smcap">Will. Scrivenor’s</span> dead, who by his art,<br /> +Could make Death’s Skeleton edible in each part.<br /> +Mourn, squeamish Stomachs, and ye curious Palates,<br /> +You’ve lost your dainty Dishes and your Salades:<br /> +Mourn for yourselves, but not for him i’ th’ least.<br /> +He’s gone to taste of a more Heav’nly Feast.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The next was written by Capt. Morris on Edward Heardson (thirty years cook +to the Beefsteak Society):—</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>His last <i>steak</i> done; his fire rak’d out and dead,<br /> +<i>Dish’d</i> for the worms himself, lies <i>honest Ned</i>:<br /> +<i>We</i>, then, whose breasts bore all his <i>fleshly toils</i>,<br /> +Took all his <i>bastings</i> and shared all his <i>broils</i>;<br /> +Now, in our turn, <i>a mouthful carve</i> and <i>trim</i>,<br /> +And <i>dress</i> at Phœbus’ <i>fire</i>, one <i>scrap</i> for him:—<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>His heart which well might grace the noblest grave,<br /> +Was grateful, patient, modest, just and brave;<br /> +And ne’er did earth’s wide maw <i>a morsel</i> gain<br /> +Of <i>kindlier juices</i> or more tender <i>grain</i>;<br /> +His tongue, where duteous friendship humbly dwelt,<br /> +Charm’d all who heard the faithful zeal he felt;<br /> +Still to whatever end his <i>chops</i> he mov’d,<br /> +’Twas all <i>well season’d</i>, <i>relish’d</i>, and approv’d;<br /> +This room his heav’n!—When threat’ning Fate drew nigh<br /> +The closing shade that dimm’d his ling’ring eye,<br /> +His last fond hopes, betray’d by many a tear,<br /> +Were—That his life’s last <i>spark</i> might glimmer here;<br /> +And the last words that choak’d his parting sigh—<br /> +“Oh! at your feet, dear masters, let me die!”</td></tr></table> + +<p>In St. John’s churchyard, Chester, is an inscription as follows:—</p> + +<p class="center">Under this stone lieth the Broken<br /> +Remains of <span class="smcap">Stephen Jones</span> who had<br /> +his leg cut off without the Consent of<br /> +Wife or Friends on the 23rd October,<br /> +1842, in which day he died. Aged 31 years.<br /> +Reader I bid you farewell. May<br /> +the Lord have mercy on you in the<br /> +day of trouble.</p> + +<p>An inscription in St. Michael’s churchyard, Macclesfield, illustrates the +weakness for the love of display of the poor at a funeral:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mary Broomfield</span><br /> +dyd 19 Novr., 1755, aged 80.</p> + +<p>The chief concern of her life for the last twenty years was to order +and provide for her funeral. Her greatest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> pleasure was to think and +talk about it. She lived many years on a pension of ninepence a week, +and yet she saved £5, which, at her own request, was laid out on her +funeral.</p></div> + +<p>We give as the frontispiece to this volume a picture of the Martyrs’ +Monument, in Greyfriars’ churchyard, Edinburgh. The graves of the martyrs +are in that part of the burial-ground where criminals were interred, and +an allusion is made to this fact in the inscription that follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Halt, passenger, take heed what you do see,<br /> +This tomb doth shew for what some men did die.<br /> +Here lies interr’d the dust of those who stood<br /> +’Gainst perjury, resisting unto blood;<br /> +Adhering to the covenants and laws;<br /> +Establishing the same: which was the cause<br /> +Their lives were sacrific’d unto the lust<br /> +Of prelatists abjur’d; though here their dust<br /> +Lies mixt with murderers and other crew,<br /> +Whom justice justly did to death pursue.<br /> +But as for them, no cause was to be found<br /> +Worthy of death; but only they were found<br /> +Constant and steadfast, zealous, witnessing<br /> +For the prerogatives of Christ their King;<br /> +Which truths were seal’d by famous Guthrie’s head,<br /> +And all along to Mr. Renwick’s blood:<br /> +They did endure the wrath of enemies:<br /> +Reproaches, torments, deaths and injuries.<br /> +But yet they’re those, who from such troubles came,<br /> +And now triumph in glory with the Lamb.</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>From May 27th, 1661, that the most noble Marquis of Argyle was +beheaded, to the 17th February, 1688, that Mr. James Renwick suffered, +were one way or other murdered and destroyed for the same cause about +eighteen thousand, of whom were executed at Edinburgh about an hundred +of noblemen, gentlemen, ministers and others, noble martyrs for <span class="smcap">Jesus +Christ</span>. The most of them lie here.</p> + +<p>The above monument was first erected by James Currie, merchant, +Pentland, and others, in 1706; renewed in 1771.</p> + +<p class="hang">Rev. vi. 9.—And when he had opened the fifth seal, I saw under the +altar the souls of them that were slain for the word of God, and for +the testimony which they held.<br /> +<br /> +10.—And they cried with a loud voice, saying, How long, O Lord, holy +and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?<br /> +<br /> +11.—And white robes were given unto every one of them; and it was +said unto them that they should rest yet for a little season, until +their fellow-servants also and their brethren, that should be killed +as they were, should be fulfilled.</p> + +<p class="hang">Chap. vii. 14.—These are they which came out of great tribulation, +and have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the +Lamb.</p> + +<p class="hang">Chap. ii. 10.—Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a +crown of life.</p></div> + +<p>The following is stated to have been added to the monument at a subsequent +date, but at the present time there is not any trace of it:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Yes, though the sceptic’s tongue deride<br /> +Those martyrs who for conscience died—<br /> +Though modern history blight their fame,<br /> +And sneering courtiers hoot the name<br /> +Of men who dared alone be free,<br /> +Amidst a nation’s slavery;—<br /> +Yet long for them the poet’s lyre<br /> +Shall wake its notes of heavenly fire;<br /> +Their names shall nerve the patriot’s hand<br /> +Upraised to save a sinking land;<br /> +And piety shall learn to burn<br /> +With holier transports o’er their urn.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;"><span class="smcap">James Grahame.</span></span><br /> +Peace to their mem’ry! let no impious breath<br /> +Sell their fair fame, or triumph o’er their death.<br /> +Let Scotia’s grateful sons their tear-drops shed,<br /> +Where low they lie in honour’s gory bed;<br /> +Rich with the spoil their glorious deeds had won,<br /> +And purchas’d freedom to a land undone—<br /> +A land which owes its glory and its worth<br /> +To those whom tyrants banish’d from the earth.</td></tr></table> + +<p>For the accomplishment of this resolution, the three kingdoms lie +under no small debt of gratitude to the Covenanters. They suffered and +bled both in fields and on scaffolds for the cause of civil and +religious liberty; and shall we reap the fruit of their sufferings, +their prayers and their blood, and yet treat their memory either with +indifference or scorn? No! whatever minor faults may be laid to their +charge, whatever trivial accusations may be brought against them, it +cannot be but acknowledged that they were the men who, “singly and +alone,” stood forward in defence of Scotland’s dearest rights, and to +whom we at the present day owe everything that is valuable to us +either as men or as Christians.</p></div> + +<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img14.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">THE PUZZLE.</p> +<p class="center"><i>Reproduced from a picture published in 1796.</i></p> +<p> </p> + +<p>It is an easy matter to arrange words forming a simple sentence in English +to appear like Latin. This was successfully done in 1796, when a print was +published under the title of “The Puzzle.” “This curious inscription is +humbly dedicated,” says the author, “to the penetrating geniuses of +Oxford, Cambridge, Eton, and the learned Society<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> of Antiquaries.” The +words have every appearance of a Latin inscription, but if the stops and +capital letters or division of the words are disregarded, the epitaph may +easily be read as follows:—</p> + +<p class="center">Beneath<br /> +this stone reposeth<br /> +<span class="smcap">Claud Coster</span>,<br /> +tripe-seller, of Impington,<br /> +as doth his consort Jane.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img15.jpg" alt="Ye Ende" /></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> +<p class="title">Index.</p> + + +<p class="index"> +Abdidge, John, <a href="#Page_5">5</a><br /> +<br /> +Abel, John, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +Abery, Sarah, <a href="#Page_37">37</a><br /> +<br /> +Abingdon, John, <a href="#Page_7">7</a><br /> +<br /> +Acrostic, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +Actors and Musicians, Epitaphs on, <a href="#Page_73">73-91</a><br /> +<br /> +Adderly, Sampson, <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Alexander, J. H., <a href="#Page_83">83</a><br /> +<br /> +Alfred, King of Northumbria, <a href="#Page_179">179</a><br /> +<br /> +Aliscombe, <a href="#Page_14">14</a><br /> +<br /> +Alley, Samuel, <a href="#Page_142">142</a><br /> +<br /> +Amelia, Princess, <a href="#Page_45">45</a><br /> +<br /> +Amies, James, <a href="#Page_220">220</a><br /> +<br /> +Amputation, Death from, <a href="#Page_228">228</a><br /> +<br /> +Amys, Thomas, <a href="#Page_209">209</a><br /> +<br /> +Andrews, Sarah, <a href="#Page_41">41</a><br /> +<br /> +Appleby, H. C., quoted, <a href="#Page_167">167</a><br /> +<br /> +Architect, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +Armison, Sarah, <a href="#Page_40">40</a><br /> +<br /> +Ashford, Mary, <a href="#Page_199">199</a><br /> +<br /> +Ashover, <a href="#Page_77">77</a><br /> +<br /> +Atholl, Duke of, <a href="#Page_146">146</a><br /> +<br /> +Attorney-at-Law, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +Ault Hucknall, <a href="#Page_93">93</a><br /> +<br /> +Axon, W. E. A., quoted, <a href="#Page_198">198</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Bacchanalian Epitaphs, <a href="#Page_105">105-118</a><br /> +<br /> +Bagshaw, Samuel, <a href="#Page_15">15</a><br /> +<br /> +Baily, Mary, <a href="#Page_41">41</a><br /> +<br /> +Baker, <a href="#Page_19">19</a><br /> +<br /> +Bakewell, <a href="#Page_121">121-125</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a><br /> +<br /> +Ball, H. W., quoted, <a href="#Page_225">225</a><br /> +<br /> +Barber-surgeons, <a href="#Page_172">172-173</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a><br /> +<br /> +Bardsley, Rev. C. W., <a href="#Page_22">22</a><br /> +<br /> +Barker, Christopher, <a href="#Page_33">33</a><br /> +<br /> +Barnstaple, <a href="#Page_139">139</a><br /> +<br /> +Barrow-on-Soar, <a href="#Page_138">138</a><br /> +<br /> +Barton, Norfolk, <a href="#Page_209">209</a><br /> +<br /> +Barton-on-Humber, <a href="#Page_225">225</a><br /> +<br /> +Barwick-in-Elmet, <a href="#Page_65">65</a><br /> +<br /> +Baskerville, <a href="#Page_33">33</a><br /> +<br /> +Bassoon player, <a href="#Page_77">77</a><br /> +<br /> +Bath, <a href="#Page_80">80</a><br /> +<br /> +Battersea, <a href="#Page_55">55</a><br /> +<br /> +Battle, wager of, <a href="#Page_199">199-201</a><br /> +<br /> +Beach, Mary, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +Becke, Rev. J., <a href="#Page_136">136</a><br /> +<br /> +Beckenham, <a href="#Page_42">42</a><br /> +<br /> +Beckley, <a href="#Page_85">85</a><br /> +<br /> +Bede, Cuthbert, quoted, <a href="#Page_125">125</a><br /> +<br /> +Bedworth, <a href="#Page_97">97</a><br /> +<br /> +Beefsteak Society, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> +<br /> +Belbroughton, <a href="#Page_126">126</a><br /> +<br /> +Bell, Nathaniel, <a href="#Page_39">39</a><br /> +<br /> +Bellow, J. F., <a href="#Page_52">52</a><br /> +<br /> +Bellows-maker, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br /> +<br /> +Berkeley, <a href="#Page_3">3</a><br /> +<br /> +Besford, <a href="#Page_39">39</a><br /> +<br /> +Betts, Sarah, <a href="#Page_41">41</a><br /> +<br /> +Beverley, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Biffin, Sarah, <a href="#Page_162">162</a><br /> +<br /> +Bill o’ Jacks and Tom o’ Bills, <a href="#Page_201">201</a><br /> +<br /> +Billinge, Wm., <a href="#Page_49">49</a><br /> +<br /> +Bingham, <a href="#Page_120">120</a><br /> +<br /> +Bingley, <a href="#Page_130">130</a><br /> +<br /> +Birmingham, <a href="#Page_33">33</a><br /> +<br /> +Birstal, <a href="#Page_97">97</a><br /> +<br /> +Blackett, Joseph, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br /> +<br /> +Blacksmith, <a href="#Page_11">11</a><br /> +<br /> +Bletchley, <a href="#Page_139">139</a><br /> +<br /> +Blind Jack, <a href="#Page_149">149-153</a><br /> +<br /> +Bloomfield, Mary, <a href="#Page_228">228</a><br /> +<br /> +Boar’s Head, <a href="#Page_114">114-116</a><br /> +<br /> +Bodger, Samuel, <a href="#Page_56">56</a><br /> +<br /> +Boles, Richard, <a href="#Page_51">51</a><br /> +<br /> +Bolsover, <a href="#Page_3">3</a><br /> +<br /> +Bolton, Lancashire, <a href="#Page_158">158</a><br /> +<br /> +Bolton, Yorkshire, <a href="#Page_153">153</a><br /> +<br /> +Bond, Thomas and Mary, <a href="#Page_223">223</a><br /> +<br /> +“Book of Days,” quoted, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a><br /> +<br /> +Booker, Dr., quoted, <a href="#Page_199">199</a><br /> +<br /> +Bookseller, <a href="#Page_9">9</a><br /> +<br /> +Booth, Jno., <a href="#Page_75">75</a><br /> +<br /> +Booth, Tom, <a href="#Page_94">94-97</a><br /> +<br /> +Boston, America, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a><br /> +<br /> +Botanist, <a href="#Page_22">22</a><br /> +<br /> +Bowes, <a href="#Page_205">205</a><br /> +<br /> +Bradbury, William and Thomas, <a href="#Page_201">201</a><br /> +<br /> +Bradley, William, <a href="#Page_159">159</a><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span><br /> +Bray, Henrietta M., <a href="#Page_80">80</a><br /> +<br /> +Bremhill, <a href="#Page_50">50</a><br /> +<br /> +Brewer, <a href="#Page_105">105</a><br /> +<br /> +Brickmaker, <a href="#Page_14">14</a><br /> +<br /> +Bridgeford-on-the-Hill, <a href="#Page_5">5</a><br /> +<br /> +Briggs, Hezekiah, <a href="#Page_130">130</a><br /> +<br /> +Brighton, <a href="#Page_59">59</a><br /> +<br /> +Briscoe, John D., quoted, <a href="#Page_158">158</a><br /> +<br /> +Briscoe, J. Potter, quoted, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /> +<br /> +Bristol, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Broadbent, Jno., <a href="#Page_132">132</a><br /> +<br /> +Bromsgrove, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +Brousard, James, <a href="#Page_36">36</a><br /> +<br /> +Browne, Susan, <a href="#Page_221">221</a><br /> +<br /> +Buckett, Jno., <a href="#Page_107">107</a><br /> +<br /> +Builder, <a href="#Page_14">14</a><br /> +<br /> +Bullen, Rev. H., <a href="#Page_7">7</a><br /> +<br /> +Bullingham, <a href="#Page_14">14</a><br /> +<br /> +Bunney, <a href="#Page_101">101</a><br /> +<br /> +Burbage, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br /> +<br /> +Burkitt, Jonathan, <a href="#Page_226">226</a><br /> +<br /> +Burned to death, <a href="#Page_213">213</a><br /> +<br /> +Burns, Robert, quoted, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +Burton, <a href="#Page_205">205</a><br /> +<br /> +Burton, Edward, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Burton, Joyce, <a href="#Page_213">213</a><br /> +<br /> +Burton-on-Trent, <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Bury, St. Edmunds, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a><br /> +<br /> +Butler, a, <a href="#Page_106">106</a><br /> +<br /> +Butler, Samuel, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164-166</a><br /> +<br /> +Butler, Samuel William, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Buttress, J. E., <a href="#Page_69">69</a><br /> +<br /> +Byfield, Sarah, <a href="#Page_111">111</a><br /> +<br /> +Byng, John, <a href="#Page_67">67</a><br /> +<br /> +Byron, Lord, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br /> +<br /> +Bywater, Jno., <a href="#Page_112">112</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Cadman, <a href="#Page_86">86</a><br /> +<br /> +Caerlaverock, <a href="#Page_174">174</a><br /> +<br /> +Campbell, Patrick, <a href="#Page_65">65</a><br /> +<br /> +Carmichael, Jas., <a href="#Page_65">65</a><br /> +<br /> +Carpenter, <a href="#Page_15">15</a><br /> +<br /> +Carrier, <a href="#Page_8">8</a><br /> +<br /> +Cartwright, Hy., <a href="#Page_94">94</a><br /> +<br /> +Cary, Rev. H. F., quoted, <a href="#Page_183">183</a><br /> +<br /> +Castleton, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +Cave, of Barrow-on-Soar, <a href="#Page_138">138</a><br /> +<br /> +Cave, Edward, <a href="#Page_11">11</a><br /> +<br /> +Cave, Jos., <a href="#Page_10">10</a><br /> +<br /> +Cave, William, <a href="#Page_11">11</a><br /> +<br /> +Caxton, William, <a href="#Page_24">24</a><br /> +<br /> +Chambers, Dr. Wm., <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a><br /> +<br /> +Chancel door, buried at the, <a href="#Page_214">214</a><br /> +<br /> +Chapman, Dr. T., <a href="#Page_154">154</a><br /> +<br /> +Chapman, Wm., <a href="#Page_42">42</a><br /> +<br /> +Charles I., <a href="#Page_51">51</a><br /> +<br /> +Charles II., epitaph on, <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /> +<br /> +Charlton, Jno., <a href="#Page_92">92</a><br /> +<br /> +Chatham, <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +<br /> +Chatsworth, <a href="#Page_35">35</a><br /> +<br /> +Checkley, <a href="#Page_135">135</a><br /> +<br /> +Chelsea Hospital veteran, <a href="#Page_49">49</a><br /> +<br /> +Chepman, William, <a href="#Page_24">24-25</a><br /> +<br /> +Chepstow, <a href="#Page_170">170</a><br /> +<br /> +Chester, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a><br /> +<br /> +Clay, Hercules, <a href="#Page_168">168</a><br /> +<br /> +Clay, Thomas, <a href="#Page_117">117</a><br /> +<br /> +Cleater, Samuel, <a href="#Page_214">214</a><br /> +<br /> +Clemetshaw, Hy., <a href="#Page_73">73</a><br /> +<br /> +Cliff, Elizabeth, <a href="#Page_213">213</a><br /> +<br /> +Clifton, <a href="#Page_80">80</a><br /> +<br /> +Clockmakers, <a href="#Page_1">1-5</a><br /> +<br /> +Cloth-drawer, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br /> +<br /> +Coachdriver, <a href="#Page_7">7</a><br /> +<br /> +Coffin, curious, <a href="#Page_166">166</a><br /> +<br /> +Coincidences, remarkable, <a href="#Page_178">178</a><br /> +<br /> +Cole, Dean, <a href="#Page_137">137</a><br /> +<br /> +Cole, of Lillington, <a href="#Page_138">138</a><br /> + +<br /> +Collison, D., <a href="#Page_70">70</a><br /> +<br /> +Colton, <a href="#Page_14">14</a><br /> +<br /> +Cooks, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> +<br /> +Corby, <a href="#Page_20">20</a><br /> +<br /> +Corporation cook, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> +<br /> +Corser, Henry, <a href="#Page_178">178</a><br /> +<br /> +Coster, Claude, <a href="#Page_232">232-233</a><br /> +<br /> +Cotton, John, <a href="#Page_28">28</a><br /> +<br /> +Coventry, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Coventry Mercury</i>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a><br /> +<br /> +Cowper, Wm., <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184-185</a><br /> +<br /> +Crackles, Thos., <a href="#Page_70">70</a><br /> +<br /> +Crazford, <a href="#Page_119">119</a><br /> +<br /> +Creton, <a href="#Page_213">213</a><br /> +<br /> +Crich, Vicar of, <a href="#Page_12">12</a><br /> +<br /> +Cricketer, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a><br /> +<br /> +Cruikshank, George, <a href="#Page_192">192-194</a><br /> +<br /> +Cruker, Joseph, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br /> +<br /> +Currie, James, <a href="#Page_230">230</a><br /> +<br /> +Cynical epitaph, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Dalamoth, Jane, <a href="#Page_215">215</a><br /> +<br /> +Dale, John, <a href="#Page_177">177</a><br /> +<br /> +Dalry, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Danish soldiers, <a href="#Page_52">52-55</a><br /> +<br /> +Darenth, <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +<br /> +Darfield, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Darlington, <a href="#Page_132">132</a><br /> +<br /> +Darnborough, Wm., <a href="#Page_131">131</a><br /> +<br /> +Dart, Rose, <a href="#Page_139">139</a><br /> +<br /> +Dartmouth, <a href="#Page_66">66</a><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span><br /> +Davidson, Alex., <a href="#Page_67">67</a><br /> +<br /> +Day, Will., <a href="#Page_136">136</a><br /> +<br /> +Deaf and dumb man, <a href="#Page_205">205</a><br /> +<br /> +Deakin, Rowland, <a href="#Page_157">157</a><br /> +<br /> +Deal, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a><br /> +<br /> +Deal boatman, <a href="#Page_68">68</a><br /> +<br /> +Deans, Jeanie, <a href="#Page_173">173-174</a><br /> +<br /> +Death from political excitement, <a href="#Page_204">204</a><br /> +<br /> +Defoe, Daniel, <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /> +<br /> +Depledge, Thomas, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Dereham, <a href="#Page_182">182</a><br /> +<br /> +Devonshire, Duke of, <a href="#Page_35">35</a><br /> +<br /> +Dinsdale, Dr. F., <a href="#Page_207">207</a><br /> +<br /> +Disley, <a href="#Page_36">36</a><br /> +<br /> +Dixon, Geo., <a href="#Page_93">93</a><br /> +<br /> +“Domestic Annals of Scotland,” quoted, <a href="#Page_156">156</a><br /> +<br /> +Dove, John, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +Drew, Mary, <a href="#Page_210">210</a><br /> +<br /> +Drowned, <a href="#Page_212">212-213</a><br /> +<br /> +Drunkard, <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +<br /> +Dublin, <a href="#Page_30">30</a><br /> +<br /> +Duck, S., <a href="#Page_87">87-90</a><br /> +<br /> +Dunkeld, <a href="#Page_156">156</a><br /> +<br /> +Dunse, <a href="#Page_83">83</a><br /> +<br /> +Dunton, <a href="#Page_7">7</a><br /> +<br /> +Dwarf, Yorkshire, <a href="#Page_160">160</a><br /> +<br /> +Dyer, <a href="#Page_16">16</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Eakring, <a href="#Page_94">94</a><br /> +<br /> +Early English epitaph, <a href="#Page_209">209</a><br /> +<br /> +Earthenware, dealer in, <a href="#Page_13">13</a><br /> +<br /> +Earwaker, J. P., <a href="#Page_37">37</a><br /> +<br /> +Easton, Wm., <a href="#Page_70">70</a><br /> +<br /> +Ecclesfield, <a href="#Page_94">94</a><br /> +<br /> +Edensor, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a><br /> +<br /> +Edinburgh, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a><br /> +<br /> +Edmonds, Jno., <a href="#Page_66">66</a><br /> +<br /> +Edmonton, <a href="#Page_183">183</a><br /> +<br /> +Edwalton, <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +<br /> +“Edwin and Emma,” <a href="#Page_206">206</a><br /> +<br /> +Eltham, <a href="#Page_39">39</a><br /> +<br /> +Engine-driver, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +Engineer, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +Epitaphs on Soldiers and Sailors, <a href="#Page_49">49-72</a><br /> +<br /> +Epsom, <a href="#Page_41">41</a><br /> +<br /> +Eton, <a href="#Page_111">111</a><br /> +<br /> +Etty, Wm., <a href="#Page_190">190-192</a><br /> +<br /> +Exciseman, <a href="#Page_116">116</a><br /> +<br /> +Eyre, Vincent, <a href="#Page_203">203-205</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Fairholt, F. W., <a href="#Page_190">190</a><br /> +<br /> +Families, large, <a href="#Page_221">221-222</a><br /> +<br /> +Fatal prize-fights, <a href="#Page_102">102</a><br /> +<br /> +Faulkner, George, <a href="#Page_30">30</a><br /> +<br /> +Female soldiers, <a href="#Page_58">58</a><br /> +<br /> +Fiddler, <a href="#Page_75">75</a><br /> +<br /> +Field, Bishop, <a href="#Page_135">135</a><br /> +<br /> +Field, Joseph, <a href="#Page_134">134</a><br /> +<br /> +Fisher, Jno., <a href="#Page_39">39</a><br /> +<br /> +Flixton, <a href="#Page_75">75</a><br /> +<br /> +Flockton, Thomas, <a href="#Page_132">132</a><br /> +<br /> +Folkestone, <a href="#Page_112">112</a><br /> +<br /> +Fools, <a href="#Page_85">85</a><br /> +<br /> +Fort William, <a href="#Page_65">65</a><br /> +<br /> +Franklin, Abiah, <a href="#Page_30">30</a><br /> +<br /> +Franklin, Benjamin, <a href="#Page_26">26-30</a><br /> +<br /> +Franklin, Josiah, <a href="#Page_30">30</a><br /> +<br /> +Freland, Mrs., <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Garden, burial in, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Gardener, <a href="#Page_36">36</a><br /> +<br /> +Garrick, David, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">quoted, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a></span><br /> +<br /> +Gaskoin, Jenny, <a href="#Page_43">43-45</a><br /> +<br /> +Gaskoin, Mary, <a href="#Page_45">45</a><br /> +<br /> +Gay, <a href="#Page_210">210</a><br /> +<br /> +Gedge, L., <a href="#Page_31">31</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, quoted, <a href="#Page_123">123</a><br /> +<br /> +George III., <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +George IV., <a href="#Page_61">61</a><br /> +<br /> +Giant, Yorkshire, <a href="#Page_159">159</a><br /> +<br /> +Gilling, <a href="#Page_218">218</a><br /> +<br /> +Gillingham, <a href="#Page_84">84</a><br /> +<br /> +Gladiator, <a href="#Page_101">101</a><br /> +<br /> +Glasgow, <a href="#Page_83">83-84</a><br /> +<br /> +Gloucester Abbey, <a href="#Page_167">167</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Gloucester Notes and Queries</i>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /> +<br /> +Goldsmith, Dr. O., <a href="#Page_115">115</a><br /> +<br /> +Goldsmith, Thomas, <a href="#Page_66">66</a><br /> +<br /> +Good and Faithful Servants, <a href="#Page_35">35-43</a><br /> +<br /> +Grainge, Wm., quoted, <a href="#Page_153">153</a><br /> +<br /> +Gray, Catherine, <a href="#Page_13">13</a><br /> +<br /> +Gray, John William, <a href="#Page_213">213</a><br /> +<br /> +Gray, Robert, <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /> +<br /> +Great events, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> +<br /> +Great Limber, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +Great Marlow, <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Greenwich, <a href="#Page_107">107</a><br /> +<br /> +Griffiths, George, <a href="#Page_56">56</a><br /> +<br /> +Grindon, <a href="#Page_220">220</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Guardian</i>, quoted, <a href="#Page_137">137</a><br /> +<br /> +Guy, John, <a href="#Page_166">166-167</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Hackett, Robert, <a href="#Page_92">92</a><br /> +<br /> +Haigh, Brian, <a href="#Page_177">177</a><br /> +<br /> +Hall, Micah, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span><br /> +Hamilton, <a href="#Page_72">72</a><br /> +<br /> +Hampstead, <a href="#Page_4">4</a><br /> +<br /> +Hampsthwaite, <a href="#Page_160">160</a><br /> +<br /> +Hanslope, <a href="#Page_102">102</a><br /> +<br /> +Harrison, John, <a href="#Page_4">4-5</a><br /> +<br /> +Harrison, Wm., <a href="#Page_71">71</a><br /> +<br /> +Hart, Thomas, <a href="#Page_120">120</a><br /> +<br /> +Hartwith, <a href="#Page_131">131</a><br /> +<br /> +Haselton, Mary, <a href="#Page_211">211</a><br /> +<br /> +Hawksworth, Dr., <a href="#Page_11">11</a><br /> +<br /> +Hayley, quoted, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a><br /> +<br /> +Heardson, Edward, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> +<br /> +Hedderwick, James, quoted, <a href="#Page_84">84</a><br /> +<br /> +Hedon, <a href="#Page_221">221</a><br /> +<br /> +Henbury, <a href="#Page_46">46</a><br /> +<br /> +Hessel, Phœbe, <a href="#Page_58">58-64</a><br /> +<br /> +Hessle, <a href="#Page_16">16</a><br /> +<br /> +Hewet, John, <a href="#Page_210">210</a><br /> +<br /> +Heywood, James, <a href="#Page_15">15</a><br /> +<br /> +High Wycombe, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a><br /> +<br /> +Hill, Dr. Otwell, <a href="#Page_137">137</a><br /> +<br /> +Hillingdon, <a href="#Page_46">46</a><br /> +<br /> +Hilton Castle, fool at, <a href="#Page_86">86</a><br /> +<br /> +Hindle, Thomas, <a href="#Page_4">4</a><br /> +<br /> +Hippisley, Jno., <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +Hiseland, Wm., <a href="#Page_49">49</a><br /> +<br /> +Hobson, carrier, <a href="#Page_8">8</a><br /> +<br /> +Hogarth, Wm., <a href="#Page_187">187-190</a><br /> +<br /> +Honest man, <a href="#Page_220">220</a><br /> +<br /> +Horncastle, <a href="#Page_72">72</a><br /> +<br /> +Hornsea, <a href="#Page_135">135</a><br /> +<br /> +Howard, John, <a href="#Page_22">22</a><br /> +<br /> +“Hudibras,” author of, <a href="#Page_164">164-166</a><br /> +<br /> +Hughenden, <a href="#Page_166">166</a><br /> +<br /> +Hull, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a><br /> +<br /> +Hull Fair, giant at, <a href="#Page_160">160</a><br /> +<br /> +Hulm, John, <a href="#Page_34">34</a><br /> +<br /> +Huntrodds, Francis, <a href="#Page_178">178</a><br /> +<br /> +Huntsman, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a><br /> +<br /> +Hutchinson, Henry, <a href="#Page_144">144-5</a><br /> +<br /> +Hythe, <a href="#Page_104">104</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Innkeeper, <a href="#Page_106">106-110</a><br /> +<br /> +Irongray, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +Island of Juan Fernandez, <a href="#Page_180">180</a><br /> +<br /> +Isnell, Peter, <a href="#Page_119">119</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Jackson, Thomas, <a href="#Page_84">84</a><br /> +<br /> +Jenkins, Henry, <a href="#Page_153">153-156</a><br /> +<br /> +Jennings, Ann, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Jewitt, L., quoted, <a href="#Page_121">121</a><br /> +<br /> +Jobling, Mrs. C., quoted, <a href="#Page_163">163</a><br /> +<br /> +Jones, Alderman J., <a href="#Page_167">167</a><br /> +<br /> +Jones, Edward, <a href="#Page_25">25</a><br /> +<br /> +Jones, Stephen, <a href="#Page_228">228</a><br /> +<br /> +Joy, Richard, <a href="#Page_162">162</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Keeper, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a><br /> +<br /> +Kelly, Rev. John, <a href="#Page_145">145</a><br /> +<br /> +Kempsey, <a href="#Page_40">40</a><br /> +<br /> +Kentish Samson, <a href="#Page_162">162</a><br /> +<br /> +Kettlethorpe, <a href="#Page_136">136</a><br /> +<br /> +King, John, <a href="#Page_42">42</a><br /> +<br /> +Kingsbridge, <a href="#Page_214">214</a><br /> +<br /> +Kirk Braddan, <a href="#Page_140">140-148</a><br /> +<br /> +Kirk Hall, <a href="#Page_214">214</a><br /> +<br /> +Knight, Charles, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Lackington, James, <a href="#Page_9">9</a><br /> +<br /> +Lamb, Charles and Mary, <a href="#Page_183">183-185</a><br /> +<br /> +Lambert, Daniel, <a href="#Page_161">161</a><br /> +<br /> +Lambert, George, <a href="#Page_74">74</a><br /> +<br /> +Lambeth, <a href="#Page_22">22</a><br /> +<br /> +Lanchbury, Sarah, <a href="#Page_40">40</a><br /> +<br /> +Large families, <a href="#Page_221">221-222</a><br /> +<br /> +Laurence Lideard, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Leake, Thomas, <a href="#Page_97">97-100</a><br /> +<br /> +Lightning, killed by, <a href="#Page_210">210-211</a><br /> +<br /> +Lillington, <a href="#Page_137">137</a><br /> +<br /> +Lillyard, Maiden, <a href="#Page_158">158</a><br /> +<br /> +Lincoln, <a href="#Page_137">137</a><br /> +<br /> +Little Driffield, <a href="#Page_179">179</a><br /> +<br /> +Liverpool, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a><br /> +<br /> +Lloyd, Sarah, <a href="#Page_212">212</a><br /> +<br /> +Loddon, <a href="#Page_176">176</a><br /> +<br /> +Logner Hall, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +London, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a><br /> +<br /> +Longevity, <a href="#Page_37">37</a><br /> +<br /> +Longnor, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a><br /> +<br /> +Low value of human life, <a href="#Page_212">212</a><br /> +<br /> +Ludlow, <a href="#Page_7">7</a><br /> +<br /> +Luton, <a href="#Page_93">93</a><br /> +<br /> +Lydford, <a href="#Page_1">1</a><br /> +<br /> +Lynn, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Macbeth, Jno., <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> +<br /> +Macclesfield, <a href="#Page_228">228</a><br /> +<br /> +Malibran, Madame, <a href="#Page_78">78</a><br /> +<br /> +Manchester, <a href="#Page_22">22</a><br /> +<br /> +Manxland Epitaphs, <a href="#Page_140">140-148</a><br /> +<br /> +Market Weighton, <a href="#Page_159">159</a><br /> +<br /> +Marrying man, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Marten, Henry, <a href="#Page_170">170-172</a><br /> +<br /> +Martin, John, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a><br /> +<br /> +Martyrs’ monument, <a href="#Page_229">229</a><br /> +<br /> +Mason, <a href="#Page_14">14</a><br /> +<br /> +Mason, Mrs. Mary, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Mason, Rev. Wm., <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span><br /> +Master of foxhounds, <a href="#Page_92">92</a><br /> +<br /> +Mather, Wm., <a href="#Page_36">36</a><br /> +<br /> +Mauchline, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +Mawer, Rev. John, <a href="#Page_207">207</a><br /> +<br /> +Maxton, <a href="#Page_158">158</a><br /> +<br /> +M’Carrey, P., <a href="#Page_142">142</a><br /> +<br /> +M’Kay, Alex., <a href="#Page_102">102</a><br /> +<br /> +Medford, Grace, <a href="#Page_139">139</a><br /> +<br /> +Melton Mowbray, <a href="#Page_112">112</a><br /> +<br /> +Merivale, <a href="#Page_134">134</a><br /> +<br /> +Merrett, Thomas, <a href="#Page_172">172</a><br /> +<br /> +Metcalf, John, <a href="#Page_149">149-153</a><br /> +<br /> +Micklehurst, <a href="#Page_112">112</a><br /> +<br /> +Middleditch, Wm., <a href="#Page_57">57</a><br /> +<br /> +Middleton Tyas, <a href="#Page_207">207</a><br /> +<br /> +Miller, <a href="#Page_19">19</a><br /> +<br /> +Miller, Joe, <a href="#Page_86">86-91</a><br /> +<br /> +Miscellaneous Epitaphs, <a href="#Page_209">209-233</a><br /> +<br /> +Mob-Cap, <a href="#Page_45">45</a><br /> +<br /> +Model publican, <a href="#Page_198">198</a><br /> +<br /> +Moore, John, <a href="#Page_217">217</a><br /> +<br /> +Morecambe, <a href="#Page_47">47</a><br /> +<br /> +Morris, Captain, quoted, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> +<br /> +Morville, <a href="#Page_92">92</a><br /> +<br /> +Mottram, <a href="#Page_93">93</a><br /> +<br /> +Murdered men, <a href="#Page_218">218-220</a><br /> +<br /> +Musicians and Actors, Epitaphs on, <a href="#Page_73">73-91</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Napier, J. M., <a href="#Page_57">57</a><br /> +<br /> +Napoleon, Emperor, <a href="#Page_142">142</a><br /> +<br /> +Negro servants, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47-48</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a><br /> +<br /> +Newark, <a href="#Page_168">168</a><br /> +<br /> +Newcastle-on-Tyne, <a href="#Page_120">120</a><br /> +<br /> +Newhaven, <a href="#Page_105">105</a><br /> +<br /> +Newport, Mon., <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> +<br /> +Newton, George, <a href="#Page_93">93</a><br /> +<br /> +North Scarle, <a href="#Page_57">57</a><br /> +<br /> +North Wingfield, <a href="#Page_117">117</a><br /> +<br /> +Norwich, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a><br /> +<br /> +Notable Persons, Epitaphs on, <a href="#Page_149">149-208</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Notes and Queries</i>, quoted, <a href="#Page_113">113</a><br /> +<br /> +Nottingham, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /> +<br /> +Nottingham Date-Book, quoted, <a href="#Page_95">95</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Ockham, <a href="#Page_16">16</a><br /> +<br /> +Okey, John, <a href="#Page_158">158</a><br /> +<br /> +“Old Mortality,” <a href="#Page_174">174-176</a><br /> +<br /> +Ollerton, <a href="#Page_106">106</a><br /> +<br /> +Orange, Prince of, <a href="#Page_52">52</a><br /> +<br /> +Organ blower, <a href="#Page_74">74</a><br /> +<br /> +Organist, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a><br /> +<br /> +Oxford, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Pady, James, <a href="#Page_14">14</a><br /> +<br /> +Page, Jno. T., quoted, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194-197</a><br /> +<br /> +Pannal, <a href="#Page_106">106</a><br /> +<br /> +Parish Clerks and Sextons, Epitaphs on, <a href="#Page_119">119-133</a><br /> +<br /> +Parkes, Jno., <a href="#Page_101">101</a><br /> +<br /> +Park-keeper, <a href="#Page_37">37</a><br /> +<br /> +Parkyns, Sir Thomas, <a href="#Page_101">101</a><br /> +<br /> +Parr, Edward, <a href="#Page_57">57</a><br /> +<br /> +Patcham, <a href="#Page_218">218</a><br /> +<br /> +Paterson, Robert, <a href="#Page_174">174-176</a><br /> +<br /> +Patrington, <a href="#Page_221">221</a><br /> +<br /> +Pearce, Dicky, <a href="#Page_85">85</a><br /> +<br /> +Peirce, Thomas, <a href="#Page_3">3</a><br /> +<br /> +Pennecuik, A., <a href="#Page_156">156</a><br /> +<br /> +Pershore, <a href="#Page_40">40</a><br /> +<br /> +Peterborough, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a><br /> +<br /> +Petersham, <a href="#Page_37">37</a><br /> +<br /> +Pettigrew, T. J., quoted, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Petworth, <a href="#Page_41">41</a><br /> +<br /> +Philadelphia, <a href="#Page_28">28</a><br /> +<br /> +Phillips, John, <a href="#Page_35">35</a><br /> +<br /> +Phillpot, Geo., <a href="#Page_68">68</a><br /> +<br /> +Pickering, Robt., <a href="#Page_71">71</a><br /> +<br /> +Pickford, Rev. Jno., quoted, <a href="#Page_52">52</a><br /> +<br /> +Piper, Scotch, <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> +<br /> +Piscatorial epitaphs, <a href="#Page_104">104</a><br /> +<br /> +Pleasant, Toby, <a href="#Page_46">46</a><br /> +<br /> +Plumber, <a href="#Page_16">16</a><br /> +<br /> +Pope, <a href="#Page_210">210</a><br /> +<br /> +Portsmouth, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a><br /> +<br /> +Portugal, King of, <a href="#Page_20">20</a><br /> +<br /> +Potter, <a href="#Page_13">13</a><br /> +<br /> +Pounds, John, <a href="#Page_194">194-197</a><br /> +<br /> +Poynton, <a href="#Page_37">37</a><br /> +<br /> +Preston, <a href="#Page_197">197</a><br /> +<br /> +Preston, Richard, <a href="#Page_132">132</a><br /> +<br /> +Preston, Robt., <a href="#Page_116">116</a><br /> +<br /> +Prissick, George, <a href="#Page_16">16</a><br /> +<br /> +Pritchard, Mrs., <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +Protestant, a zealous, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Pryme, Abraham de la, <a href="#Page_53">53</a><br /> +<br /> +Punning Epitaphs, <a href="#Page_134">134-140</a><br /> +<br /> +Punster, <a href="#Page_140">140</a><br /> +<br /> +Putney, <a href="#Page_67">67</a><br /> +<br /> +Puzzle, the, <a href="#Page_232">232</a><br /> +<br /> +Pyper, Mary, <a href="#Page_186">186-187</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Quill-driver, <a href="#Page_215">215</a><br /> +<br /> +Quin, James, <a href="#Page_80">80</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Ragged Schools, founder of, <a href="#Page_194">194-197</a><br /> +<br /> +Railton, Martha, <a href="#Page_206">206</a><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span><br /> +Ratcliffe-on-Soar, <a href="#Page_120">120</a><br /> +<br /> +Raw, Frank, <a href="#Page_120">120</a><br /> +<br /> +Regicide, <a href="#Page_170">170-172</a><br /> +<br /> +Ridge, Thos., <a href="#Page_94">94</a><br /> +<br /> +Ridsdale, Jane, <a href="#Page_160">160</a><br /> +<br /> +Ringer, <a href="#Page_130">130</a><br /> +<br /> +Roberts, Anne, <a href="#Page_80">80</a><br /> +<br /> +Robertson, John, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +“Robinson Crusoe,” <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /> +<br /> +Rochester on Charles II., <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /> +<br /> +Roe, Philip, <a href="#Page_125">125</a><br /> +<br /> +Roe, Samuel, <a href="#Page_122">122</a><br /> +<br /> +Rogers, Dr. Charles, quoted, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a><br /> +<br /> +Rogers, Rebecca, <a href="#Page_113">113</a><br /> +<br /> +Ross, Frederick, quoted, <a href="#Page_160">160</a><br /> +<br /> +Rotherham, <a href="#Page_19">19</a><br /> +<br /> +Rothwell, Leeds, <a href="#Page_132">132</a><br /> +<br /> +Routleigh, George, <a href="#Page_1">1</a><br /> +<br /> +Rudder, Samuel, <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /> +<br /> +Rugby, <a href="#Page_10">10</a><br /> +<br /> +Running footman, <a href="#Page_46">46</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Saddleworth, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a><br /> +<br /> +Sailors and Soldiers, <a href="#Page_49">49-72</a><br /> +<br /> +Salisbury, <a href="#Page_102">102</a><br /> +<br /> +Sambo’s grave, <a href="#Page_47">47-48</a><br /> +<br /> +Samson, Kentish, <a href="#Page_162">162</a><br /> +<br /> +Sands, Rev. Samuel, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> +<br /> +Santon, <a href="#Page_148">148</a><br /> +<br /> +Sarnesfield, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +Saving money for a funeral, <a href="#Page_228">228</a><br /> +<br /> +Scales, Daniel, <a href="#Page_218">218</a><br /> +<br /> +Scarlett, Old, <a href="#Page_128">128-130</a><br /> +<br /> +Scatchard, Thomas, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Scipio Africanus, <a href="#Page_46">46</a><br /> +<br /> +Scotland, printing introduced into, <a href="#Page_24">24</a><br /> +<br /> +Scott, Jno., <a href="#Page_105">105</a><br /> +<br /> +Scott, Margery, <a href="#Page_156">156</a><br /> +<br /> +Scott, Sir Walter, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +Scrivenor, Wm., <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> +<br /> +Scrope, Capt. G., <a href="#Page_103">103</a><br /> +<br /> +Sculcoates, <a href="#Page_215">215</a><br /> +<br /> +Seaham, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br /> +<br /> +Seizing the dead for debt, <a href="#Page_117">117</a><br /> +<br /> +Selby, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a><br /> +<br /> +Selkirk, Alexander, <a href="#Page_180">180</a><br /> +<br /> +Servants, Good and Faithful, <a href="#Page_35">35-43</a><br /> +<br /> +Sextons and Parish Clerks, <a href="#Page_119">119-133</a><br /> +<br /> +Shakespeare, Wm., <a href="#Page_176">176</a><br /> +<br /> +Sheffield, <a href="#Page_9">9</a><br /> +<br /> +Sherman, Mary, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Shoemaker, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br /> +<br /> +Shorthand epitaph, <a href="#Page_215">215</a><br /> +<br /> +Shrewsbury, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a><br /> +<br /> +Sign of the Boar’s Head, <a href="#Page_114">114</a><br /> +<br /> +Silkstone, <a href="#Page_13">13</a><br /> +<br /> +Simpson, Jeremiah, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Skullcross, Philip, <a href="#Page_215">215</a><br /> +<br /> +Slaves freed, <a href="#Page_46">46</a><br /> +<br /> +Slater, Joseph, <a href="#Page_2">2</a><br /> +<br /> +Sleaford, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br /> +<br /> +Smith, Isaac, <a href="#Page_56">56</a><br /> +<br /> +Smith, Robt., <a href="#Page_121">121</a><br /> +<br /> +Smoke money, <a href="#Page_113">113</a><br /> +<br /> +Smuggler, <a href="#Page_218">218-219</a><br /> +<br /> +Soldiers and Sailors, <a href="#Page_49">49-72</a><br /> +<br /> +South Cave, <a href="#Page_201">201</a><br /> +<br /> +Southam, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> +<br /> +Southill, <a href="#Page_67">67</a><br /> +<br /> +Southwell, <a href="#Page_8">8</a><br /> +<br /> +Spalding, Jos., <a href="#Page_66">66</a><br /> +<br /> +Sparke, Rose, <a href="#Page_139">139</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Spectator</i>, quoted, <a href="#Page_68">68</a><br /> +<br /> +Spofforth, <a href="#Page_149">149</a><br /> +<br /> +Spong, John, <a href="#Page_16">16</a><br /> +<br /> +Sportsmen, Epitaphs on, <a href="#Page_92">92-104</a><br /> +<br /> +Stalham, <a href="#Page_220">220</a><br /> +<br /> +Stamford, <a href="#Page_161">161</a><br /> +<br /> +Stanton Harcourt, <a href="#Page_210">210</a><br /> +<br /> +St. Helena, <a href="#Page_142">142</a><br /> +<br /> +St. Peter’s, Isle of Thanet, <a href="#Page_162">162</a><br /> +<br /> +Stockbridge, <a href="#Page_107">107</a><br /> +<br /> +Stokes, Thomas, <a href="#Page_205">205</a><br /> +<br /> +Stone, John, <a href="#Page_128">128</a><br /> +<br /> +Stoney Middleton, <a href="#Page_77">77</a><br /> +<br /> +Strange farewell sermon, <a href="#Page_12">12</a><br /> +<br /> +Street, Amos, <a href="#Page_97">97</a><br /> +<br /> +Straker, Daniel, <a href="#Page_52">52</a><br /> +<br /> +Stratford-on-Avon, <a href="#Page_176">176</a><br /> +<br /> +Strutt, Matthew, <a href="#Page_214">214</a><br /> +<br /> +Strutton, Wm., <a href="#Page_221">221</a><br /> +<br /> +Suffolk, Earl of, <a href="#Page_46">46</a><br /> +<br /> +Sunderland Point, <a href="#Page_47">47</a><br /> +<br /> +Sutton Coldfield, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a><br /> +<br /> +Swain, Charles, quoted, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Swair, Edward, <a href="#Page_19">19</a><br /> +<br /> +Swift, quoted, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90-91</a><br /> +<br /> +Swift, Geo., <a href="#Page_77">77</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +“Tales of a Grandfather,” <a href="#Page_157">157</a><br /> +<br /> +Tappy, Jas., <a href="#Page_39">39</a><br /> +<br /> +Taunton, <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /> +<br /> +Tawton, <a href="#Page_139">139</a><br /> +<br /> +Taylor, John, <a href="#Page_13">13</a><br /> +<br /> +Taylor, Jno., quoted, <a href="#Page_108">108</a><br /> +<br /> +Tear, Daniel, <a href="#Page_148">148</a><br /> +<br /> +Teetotal, author of the word, <a href="#Page_197">197</a><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span><br /> +Tennis ball, <a href="#Page_103">103</a><br /> +<br /> +Tewkesbury Abbey, <a href="#Page_172">172</a><br /> +<br /> +Thackerey, Jos., <a href="#Page_106">106</a><br /> +<br /> +Theodore, King of Corsica, <a href="#Page_180">180</a><br /> +<br /> +Thetcher, Thomas, <a href="#Page_118">118</a><br /> +<br /> +Thompson, Francis, <a href="#Page_106">106</a><br /> +<br /> +Thompson, Rev. Patrick, <a href="#Page_140">140</a><br /> +<br /> +Thornton, Abraham, <a href="#Page_199">199</a><br /> +<br /> +Thorsby Park, <a href="#Page_95">95</a><br /> +<br /> +Thursday, events on, <a href="#Page_214">214</a><br /> +<br /> +Tideswell, <a href="#Page_177">177</a><br /> +<br /> +Tidmington, <a href="#Page_40">40</a><br /> +<br /> +Tiffey, Jack, <a href="#Page_140">140</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Times</i>, quoted, <a href="#Page_3">3</a><br /> +<br /> +Tipper, Thomas, <a href="#Page_105">105</a><br /> +<br /> +Tonbridge, <a href="#Page_111">111</a><br /> +<br /> +Tonson, Jacob, <a href="#Page_26">26</a><br /> +<br /> +Tradescants, <a href="#Page_21">21-22</a><br /> +<br /> +Tradesmen, Epitaphs on, <a href="#Page_1">1-23</a><br /> +<br /> +Trowsdale, T. B., quoted, <a href="#Page_170">170</a><br /> +<br /> +Turar, T., <a href="#Page_19">19</a><br /> +<br /> +Turner, Richard, <a href="#Page_197">197</a><br /> +<br /> +Twickenham, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +Typographical Epitaphs, <a href="#Page_24">24-34</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Uley, <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /> +<br /> +Upton-on-Severn, <a href="#Page_107">107</a><br /> +<br /> +Uttoxeter, <a href="#Page_2">2</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Vegetarian, <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Wager of battle, <a href="#Page_199">199-201</a><br /> +<br /> +Wakefield, <a href="#Page_73">73</a><br /> +<br /> +Walcott, <a href="#Page_217">217</a><br /> +<br /> +Wales, Prince of, <a href="#Page_44">44</a><br /> +<br /> +Walford, Edward, <a href="#Page_3">3</a><br /> +<br /> +Walker, Helen, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +Walker, John, <a href="#Page_5">5</a><br /> +<br /> +Wall, David, <a href="#Page_77">77</a><br /> +<br /> +Wallas, Robt., <a href="#Page_120">120</a><br /> +<br /> +Warren, Sir George, <a href="#Page_37">37</a><br /> +<br /> +Watchmakers, <a href="#Page_1">1-5</a><br /> +<br /> +Watson, Jos., <a href="#Page_36">36</a><br /> +<br /> +Waverley novels, <a href="#Page_175">175</a><br /> +<br /> +Weaver, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br /> +<br /> +Weem, <a href="#Page_64">64</a><br /> +<br /> +Welton, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Westminster, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a><br /> +<br /> +Weston, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br /> +<br /> +Whalley, <a href="#Page_198">198</a><br /> +<br /> +Whitaker, Dr., <a href="#Page_198">198</a><br /> +<br /> +Whitby, <a href="#Page_178">178</a><br /> +<br /> +Whitehall, Rev. J., <a href="#Page_135">135</a><br /> +<br /> +Whittaker, Wm., <a href="#Page_67">67</a><br /> +<br /> +Whitty, Mary, <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Whitworth, Rev. R. H., quoted, <a href="#Page_97">97</a><br /> +<br /> +Wigglesworth, John, <a href="#Page_198">198</a><br /> +<br /> +Wilks, Major, <a href="#Page_142">142</a><br /> +<br /> +Williamson, Adam, <a href="#Page_32">32</a><br /> +<br /> +Wimbledon, <a href="#Page_20">20</a><br /> +<br /> +Winchester Cathedral, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a><br /> +<br /> +Windsor, St. George’s Chapel, <a href="#Page_45">45</a><br /> +<br /> +Wirksworth, <a href="#Page_215">215</a><br /> +<br /> +Wiseman, Wm., <a href="#Page_217">217</a><br /> +<br /> +Wolstanton, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Woodbridge, <a href="#Page_66">66</a><br /> +<br /> +Wordsworth, Wm., <a href="#Page_144">144</a><br /> +<br /> +Worme, Sir Richard, <a href="#Page_138">138</a><br /> +<br /> +Worrall, Thomas, <a href="#Page_126">126</a><br /> +<br /> +Wrestler, <a href="#Page_101">101</a><br /> +<br /> +Wright, Joe, <a href="#Page_20">20</a><br /> +<br /> +Wrightson, Rodger, <a href="#Page_206">206</a><br /> +<br /> +Wynter, Sir Edward, <a href="#Page_55">55</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Yarmouth, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a><br /> +<br /> +York, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a><br /> +<br /> +Yorkshire dwarf, <a href="#Page_160">160</a><br /> +<br /> +Yorkshire giant, <a href="#Page_159">159</a><br /> +</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><strong>Footnotes:</strong></p> + +<p><a name='f_1' id='f_1' href='#fna_1'>[1]</a> Hooper’s “Notes on the Church of St. Peter of Mancroft, Norwich” +(1895).</p> + +<p><a name='f_2' id='f_2' href='#fna_2'>[2]</a> “Annals of Newark-upon-Trent,” by Cornelius Brown, published 1879.</p> + +<p><a name='f_3' id='f_3' href='#fna_3'>[3]</a> London, 1873.</p> + +<p><a name='f_4' id='f_4' href='#fna_4'>[4]</a> Jno. T. Page, in “Bygone Hampshire” (1899).</p> + +<p><a name='f_5' id='f_5' href='#fna_5'>[5]</a> Black’s “Guide to Yorkshire.”</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Curious Epitaphs, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CURIOUS EPITAPHS *** + +***** This file should be named 39532-h.htm or 39532-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/5/3/39532/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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