Parents and Friends, weep not for me,
Tho’ I was drownded in the sea!—

and then, after due deliberation, if he chose to renew his persuasions he must use his pleasure. The poor man seemed overwhelmed in thought, and much struck. Perhaps the lad may suffer no further solicitation on this account, unless his father should turn out to be a staunch predestinarian.”

To the north of the church is a dwarf head-stone, thus inscribed:—

Sacred to the memory of Edmund Borman, who was accidently killed,
February 11th, 1796—aged 49 years.

His death was caused thus:—He was superintending the erection of a new flag-staff, for the vane, mentioned in page [84], for Mr. Stephen Poune, the Churchwarden; and having gone aloft, within the tower, to make everything safe in lowering the remains of the old flag-staff, he hastened down, to receive it below, when, just as he emerged from the belfry door, the mass, which was being lowered, having descended much quicker than he expected, came down upon him, crushing him fearfully, so that he died within an hour of the accident. Deceased was bowler to the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, leader of the ringers and conductor of the choir at the Church, and, being a person of good education, a generally useful man.

On the west portion of the ground, the record of the death of Miss Coupland, who was killed by the fall of a wall, in Church Street, where the Royal Stables now are, whilst walking to the Parish Church, to act as bridesmaid at the wedding of a young friend, cannot fail to be read with interest. The shoes which she wore on the occasion are still preserved by a member of her family named Hibben, who worked for her father, the owner of the premises and smithy, which for so many years formed the obstruction to the Royal Entrance at the bottom of Church Street. The epitaph runs:

Sacred to the memory of Mary Coupland, died 9th November, 1800—aged 19.

Underneath this turf, in dust is laid,
A blooming and a virtuous maid;
In virtue’s path she always trod,
And trusted in Almighty God.
For virtue, modesty, and truth,
A perfect patron was for youth;
She lived in love, and feared the Lord,
We hope her soul has met reward;
Lamented was, by great and small,
Was crushed underneath a blown down wall—
Going to church on the Lord’s day;
This maid’s sweet life was snatched away.
A tender mother left to mourn,
Enough to wound a heart of stone;
God grant his blessing to be given,
For them to meet again in Heaven.
Short was thy life, fair flower, how soon removed,
Sudden thy summons to the realms above.
Vain man, as well on sands may structors raise,
As build on early youth or length of days;
A thousand accidents frail life attend,
And none can tell how soon this life may end.
’Tis not for age that here she lie,
Therefore, in time, prepare to die;
Death does not always warning give,
Therefore be careful how you live.

A headstone that stands about the centre of the ground to the east of the church, and yet bears the name of Lucy Fermor, formerly had on it the following acrostic, now wholly effaced by age:—

L ook here, ye gay and giddy throng,
U nmindfnl as ye go;
C all’d you may be as soon as I,
Y oung, strong, and healthy too.

F or eighteen years I had not seen
E ’er death did cut me down,
R eturned to dust as now you see;
M ore quick may be your doom.
O h do not then forget, your souls
R equired may be soon.

Perhaps no inscription throughout the whole of the hallowed grounds, affords a theme for deeper meditation than that which here follows, associated as it is with marriages, births, and deaths, through a period of half a century: the plighting of solemn vows, vows how often broken; the promise of suretiship to renounce all evil works, a promise how seldom kept; we may rest in Him, as our hope is this our brother doth, a hope how soon forgotten! It is upon a head-stone, on the left, just within the southern entrance to the Old Ground, and is as follows:—