To which the hero of the Revolution quite meekly replies,
This space is all I occupy.
The crudeness of some epitaphs gives them a grotesque touch of realism. Here is one just south of the squared-in Tiffany plot:
Mourn not since freed from
human ills,
My dearest friends & two
Infants still,
My consumptive pains God
semed well,
My soul to prepair with
him to dwell.
Northward of this tomb is a sarcophagus that shows a well laid plan in a state of perpetual incompletion. Besides serving as a monument of the dead, the tomb was intended to be a kind of family record. The names of children and grandchildren were inscribed, and as they departed this life their names were marked with a chiseled asterisk referring to a foot-note which pronounced them "dead." Four deaths were so recorded; then the sculptured enrollment was discontinued. Written still among the living there remain four names, of those who have been long dead, while the name of one born after the monument was erected, and survivor of all the others, was never included in the memorial.
Near the orientated tombs of the Starrs the grave of an infant who died in 1794 bears this epitaph:
Sleep on sweet babe; injoy thy rest:
God call'd the soon, he saw it best.
A more severe view of the Deity appears upon a gravestone six rows east of this, commemorating James and Tamson Eaton, who died in 1846. Tamson was fifteen years old, and, as the verse reveals, was a girl:
This youth cut down in all her bloom,
Sent by her God to an early doom