These refer to occupations. By a cook:—
To Memory of Mary Lettuce:—
"If you want to please your pallet,
Cut down a lettuce to make a salad."
By a sailor [ma-te-lo]:—
"Here lies Tom Bowline,
His timbers stove in—
Will never put to sea ag'in!"
"Below lies Jonathan Saul,
Spitalfields weaver—
That's all!"
Spitalfields is a famous place for silk-weaving [tni-se-ti].
I need not make any criticism upon these things. They would be impossible to our better culture and refinement. Our Book of Rites would not suffer such low conceits to see the light if, by any chance, any one should indulge in them privately.
It may be said in fairness that these are specimens of the low, and with these there is less indecency than formerly. There are, however, abundant samples even among the Higher Castes, of things in really as bad taste, though in neater language—quite as offensive, but to the feelings of right reason rather than to those of literary delicacy. They refer to the canons of the Idolatry, and seem, to a stranger to that Presumption, quite incredible.
However, one must reflect upon the effect of superstition, long ingrained, and "born and bred" till its enormities are as familiar as the most harmless images; and its blessings appropriated, and its curses distributed, with an equal equanimity!