Curious Epitaphs.

Praises on tombs are trifles vainly spent;
A man's good name is his best monument.

From Childwald church-yard, England—

Here lies me and my three daughters,
Brought here by using seidlitz waters;
If we had stuck to Epsom salts,
We wouldn't have been in these here vaults.

From Nettlebed church-yard, Oxfordshire—

Here lies father, and mother, and sister, and I,
We all died within the space of one short year;
They all be buried at Wimble, except I,
And I be buried here.

At Wolstanton—

Mrs. Ann Jennings.
Some have children, some have none:
Here lies the mother of twenty-one.

In Norwich Cathedral—

Here lies the body of honest Tom Page,
Who died in the thirty-third year of his age.

At Torrington church-yard, Devon, England—

She was—but words are wanting to say what:
Think what a woman should be—she was that.

In the church-yard of Pewsey, Wiltshire—

Here lies the body of Lady O'Looney, great-niece of Burke, commonly called the Sublime. She was bland, passionate and deeply religious; also she painted in water-colors, and sent several pictures to the exhibition. She was first cousin to Lady Jones; and of such is the kingdom of heaven.

Shields (the Irish orator)—

Here lie I at reckon, and my spirit at aise is,
With the tip of my nose, and the ends of my toes,
Turned up 'gainst the roots of the daisies.

In Doncaster church-yard, 1816—

Here lies 2 brothers by misfortin serounded,
One dy'd of his wounds & the other was drownded.

On the monument of John of Doncaster—

What I gave, I have;
What I spent, I had;
What I saved, I lost.

In a New England grave-yard—

Here lies John Auricular,
Who in the ways of the Lord walked perpendicular.

Sternhold Oakes—

Here lies the body of Sternhold Oakes,
Who lived and died like other folks.

On a tombstone in New Jersey—

Reader, pass on! don't waste your time
On bad biography and bitter rhyme;
For what I am, this crumbling clay insures,
And what I was, is no affair of yours!

In East Hartford, Connecticut—

Hark! she bids all her friends adieu;
An angel calls her to the spheres;
Our eyes the radiant saint pursue
Through liquid telescopes of tears.

In Newington church-yard—

Through Christ, I am not inferior
To William the Conqueror.

In Bideford church-yard, Kent—

The wedding-day appointed was,
And wedding-clothes provided,
But ere the day did come, alas!
He sickened, and he die did.

Rebecca Rogers, Folkestone, 1688—

A house she hath, 'tis made of such good fashion,
The tenant ne'er shall pay for reparation;
Nor will her landlord ever raise her rent,
Or turn her out of doors for non-payment.
From chimney-tax this cell's forever free—
To such a house who would not tenant be?

At Augusta, Maine—

—After life's scarlet fever,
I sleep well.

John Mound—

Here lies the body of John Mound,
Lost at sea and never found.

POETRY, PIETY AND POLITENESS.

The following epitaph was copied from a stone in a country church-yard—

"You who stand around my grave,
And say, 'His life is gone;'
You are mistaken—pardon me—
My life is but begun."

At Loch Rausa—

Here lies Donald and his wife,
Janet MacFee:
Aged 40 hee,
And 30 shee.

On Mr. Bywater—

Here lie the remains of his relatives' pride,
Bywater he lived and by water he died;
Though by water he fell, yet by water he'll rise,
By water baptismal attaining the skies.

At Staverton, England—

Here lieth the body of Betty Bowden,
Who would live longer but she couden;
Sorrow and grief made her decay,
Till her bad leg carr'd her away.

At Penryn—

Here lies William Smith; and, what is somewhat rarish,
He was born, bred and hanged in this here parish.

From St. Agnes', London—

Qu an tris di c vul stra
Os guis ti ro um nere vit.
H san Chris mi t mu la.

In Linton church-yard, 1825—

Remember man, that passeth by,
As thou is now so once was I;
And as I is so must thou be:
Prepare thyself to follow me.

Under this inscription some one wrote—

To follow you's not my intent,
Unless I knew which way you went.

At Queenborough—

Henry Knight, master of a shipp to Greenland, and
Herpooner 24 voyages.
In Greenland I whales, sea-horses, bears did slay,
Though now my body is intombe in clay.

At Minster—

Here interr'd George Anderson doth lye,
By fallen on an anchor he did dye,
In Sheerness Yard, on Good Friday,
Ye 6th of April, I do say,
All you that read my allegy: Be alwaies
Ready for to dye—aged 42 years.

At Hadley church-yard, Suffolk—

The charnel mounted on the w}
Sets to be seen in funer}
A matron plain domestic}
In care and pain continu}
Not slow, not gay, not prodig} ALL.
Yet neighborly and hospit}
Her children seven, yet living}
Her sixty-seventh year hence did c }
To rest her body natur}
In hopes to rise spiritu}

The middle line furnishes the terminal letters or syllables of the words in the upper and lower lines, and when added they read thus—

Quos anguis tristi diro cum vulnere stravit,
Hos sanguis Christi miro tum munere lavit.
[Those who have felt the serpent's venomed wound,
In Christ's miraculous blood have healing found.]

In a Paris cemetery—

I' attends ma femme. | I await my wife.
1820.|1820.
————|————
Me voilá.|I am here.
1830.|1830.

Shakespeare's tomb—

The inscription on Shakespeare's tomb forbids the removal of the body. Subjoined is the prohibition—

"Good Friend, for Jesvs sake forbeare
To digg Y-E dvst EncloAsed HERE.
Blest be Y-E Man T-Y spares T-hs Stones
And cvrst be He T-Y moves my bones."

In consequence of this inscription, the people of Stratford-on-Avon are afraid to put their feet on the stones above the grave, and the body of the greatest English poet has not been placed with other geniuses in Westminster Abbey.

Stone tablet puzzle—

The following letters are inscribed on a stone tablet placed immediately over the Ten Commandments in a church in England, and are deciphered with only one letter—

PRSVR Y PRFCT MN!
VR KP THS PRCPTS TN.

Grimmingham church-yard, Norfolk, England—

To the memory of Thomas Jackson, Comedian, who was engaged, 21st of Dec, 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.

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 which he bore to performers in general.

An inculpatory epitaph—

The following epitaph at West Allington, Devon, England, is not only a memorial of the deceased, but reproves the parson of the parish—

Here lyeth the Body of
Daniel Jeffery the son of Mich
ael Jeffery and Joan his wife he
was buried ye 22 day of September
1746 and in ye 18th year of his age.
This Youth When In his sickness lay
did for the minister Send†that he would
Come and with him Pray†But he would not atend
But when this Young Man Buried was
The minister did him admit†he should be
Caried into Church†that he might money geet
By this you see what man will dwo†to geet
money if he can†who did refuse to come
pray†by the Foresaid young man.

At St. Benedict Fink—

"1673, April 23rd, was buried Mr. Thomas Sharrow, Cloth-worker, late Churchwarden of this parish, killed by an accidental fall into a vault, in London Wall, men Corner, by Paternoster Row, and was supposed had lain there eleven days and nights before any one could tell where he was. Let all that read this take heed of drink."

At Clophill, Bedfordshire—

DEATH DO NOT KICK AT MEE
FOR CHRIST HATH TAKEN
THY STING AWAY.
1623.

In the same—

HEAR
LIES THE
BODEY OF
THOMAS
DEARMAN T
HAT GAVE 6 P
OVND A YEAR
TO TH E LABE
RERS O F CLOPH
ILL 1631.

A watchmaker's epitaph—

Among the curious epitaphs to be seen in the graveyards of England, this one in the old church-yard of Lidford, Devon, is worthy of insertion—

Here lies, in a horizontal position,
The outside case of
George Rougleigh, watchmaker,
Whose abilities in that line were an honor
To his profession.
Integrity was the mainspring
And prudence the regulator
Of all the actions of his life.
Humane, generous and liberal,
His hand never stopped
Till he had relieved distress;
So nicely were all his actions regulated
That he never went wrong
Except when set a-going
By people
Who did not know his key;
Even then he was easily set aright again.
He had the art of disposing his time so well
That his hours glided away
In one continual round
Of pleasure and delight,
Till an unlucky minute put a period to
his existence.
He departed this life November 14, 1802,
Aged 57;
Wound up
In hopes of being taken in hand
By his Maker,
And of being thoroughly cleaned and repaired
And set a-going
In the world to come.

Grave of Robin Hood—

At Kirklees, in Yorkshire, formerly a Benedictine nunnery, is a gravestone, near the park, under which it is said Robin Hood lies buried. Mr. Ralph Thoresby, in his "Ducatus Leodiensis," gives the following as the epitaph—

Here undernead dis laith stean
Laiz Robert Earl of Huntington,
Nea arcir ver az hie sa geude:
An piple kaud im Robin Heud
Sic utlawz as hi, an iz men,
Wil England never sigh agen.
Obiit 24 kal. Dekembris, 1247.