WHAT THE ELEPHANT IS LIKE.
A DOCTOR’S SOLACE.
This is a true copy of his epitaph:—
“Here lie my old bones; my vexation now ends;
I have lived much too long for myself and my friends.
As to churches and churchyards, which men may call holy,
’Tis a rank piece of priestcraft, and founded on folly.
What the next world may be never troubled my pate;
And, be what it may, I beseech you, O Fate,
When the bodies of millions rise up in a riot,
To let the old carcase of Monsey lie quiet.”
The above reminds me of another epitaph in Greenwood:
“Underneath this turf do lie,
Back to back, my wife and I.
Generous stranger, spare the tear,
For could she speak, I cannot hear.
Happier far than when in life,
Free from noise and free from strife,
When the last trump the air shall fill,
If she gets up, I’ll just lie still!”
“When Doctors disagree.”
The eccentricities of some doctors lie in their abuse of their brothers; especially those of a different school, of which they necessarily know little or nothing.