“ Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs.
—Richard II, Act III, Scene ii.
Duncan is in his grave;
After life's fitful fever he sleeps well.
—Macbeth, Act III, Scene ii.
Let there be no inscription upon my tomb; let no man write my epitaph. ”

“ It may be interesting to state that the tearful widow was still living with a fourth partner.
✠
Here lies Sir John Guise:
No one laughs, no one cries:
Where he's gone, and how he fares,
No one knows, and no one cares. ”

“ My father perished with an inflammation in his thighs
And my sister dropped down dead in the Minories;
But the reason why I'm here interr'd, according to my thinking,
Is owing to my good living and hard drinking.
If, therefore, good Christians, you wish to live long,
Don't drink too much wine, brandy, gin, or anything strong.
[Pg 21]
✠
The celebrated Daniel Lambert's epitaph, St. Martin's, Stamford Baron, England:
Altus in animo, in corpore maximus.
In remembrance of that prodigy in Nature,
DANIEL LAMBERT.
A native of Leicester, who was possessed of an exalted, convivial mind ”

“ To a land where there's nothin' of washin' or sewin',
And everything there shall be just to my wishes,
For where they don't eat there's no washin' of dishes;
The land with sweet anthems is constantly ringin',
But having no voice I'll get clear of the singin'."
She folded her hands, her latest endeavor,
And whispered, "Oh nothin', sweet nothin forever."
✠
At Kensington, N. H.:
A live Dog is better than a dead Lion. ”

“ In a French cemetery there are the following concise inscriptions on one tombstone. The epitaph is on husband and wife:
I am anxiously expecting you.—A. D. 1827.
Here I am!—A. D. 1867.
✠ GOVERNOR STOUGHTON.
A man to wedlock unknown,
Devout in religion,
Renowned for virtue,
Famous for erudition,
Acute in judgment.
[Pg 23]
✠
An old man:
Lively I walked life's journey through
Till I arrived at eighty-two;
Then calm descended here to rest
In hopes to be forever blest.
✠
Hackett to the author of Dr. Mead's epitaph:
Mead's not dead then, you say, only sleeping a little ”

“ Poor Tom's mizzen topsail is laid to the mast;
He'll never turn out, or more heave the lead;
He's now all aback, nor will sails shoot ahead.
He ever was brisk, and tho' now gone to wreck,
When he hears the last whistle, he'll jump upon deck.
[Pg 44]
✠
An old school-mistress, in Dorchester:
Here lies the body of Miriam Wood, formerly wife to John Smith. ”

“ Thomas Port, of Burton-on-Trent, who, not far from this town, had both his legs severed from his body by the Railway Train. With greatest fortitude he bore a second amputation by the surgeons, and died from loss of blood.
Bright rose the morn, and vigorous rose poor Port,
Gay on the train he used his wonted sport. ”

“ Epitaph on Lady Molesworth. Burnt to death 6 May, 1763:
A peerless matron, pride of female life
In every state, as widow, maid, or wife;
Who wedded, to threescore preserved her fame,
She lived a phœnix, and expired in flame.
✠
A Welsh husband thus sings above the grave of his better-half:
This spot is the sweetest I've seen in my life,
For it raises my flowers and covers my wife.
✠
At Wolstanton:
MRS. ANN JENNINGS.
Some have children, some have none ”

“ With long campaigns and paines o' th' Gout,
He could no longer hold it out.
Always a restless life he led,
Never at quiet till quite dead.
He married in his latter days
One who exceeds the common praise;
But wanting health still to make known
Her true affection and his own,
Death kindly came, all wants supply'd,
By giving Rest which life deny'd.
[Pg 12]
✠
From a tombstone near Williamsport, Penn.:
Sacred to the Memory of
HENRY HARRIS,
Born June 27th, 1821, of Henry Harris
And Jane his Wife.
Died on the 4th of May, 1837, by the kick of a colt in his bowels. ”

“ Who was so very pure within,
She burst the outer shell of sin,
And hatched herself a cherubim.
[Pg 28]
✠
There is an epitaph of an eccentric character that may be seen on a tombstone at the burying-grounds near Hoosick Falls, New York. It reads:
Ruth Sprague, Daughter of Gibson and Elizabeth Sprague. ”

“ He departed this life on the 21st June, 1809,
Aged 39 years.
As a testimony of respect, this stone is erected by his friend in Leicester.
✠
Man's life's a vapor, and full of woes,
He cuts a caper, and down he goes. ”

“ To the memory of Ric. Richards, who by a Gangreen first lost a Toe, afterwards a Leg, and lastly his Life on the 7th day of April, 1656.
Ah! cruel Death, to make 3 Meals of one!
To taste and eat, and Eat 'till all was gone.
But know, thou Tyrant! when the Trump shall call,
He'll find his Feet, and stand when thou shalt fall.
✠
The graveyard at Wigtown, Gallowayshire, Scotland, furnish the two following:
Here lies the corps of Andrew Cowan, of Croft Angry, who died June 6th, 1776, aged 70 years. ”