Take, holy earth! all that my soul holds dear:
Take that best gift which heaven so lately gave:
To Bristol’s fount I bore with trembling care
Her faded form; she bow’d to taste the wave,
And died. Does youth, does beauty, read the line?
Does sympathetic fear their breasts alarm?
Speak, dead Maria! breathe a strain divine;
Ev’n from the grave thou shalt have power to charm.
Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee;
Bid them in duty’s sphere as meekly move;
And if so fair, from vanity as free;
As firm in friendship, and as fond in love—
Tell them, though ’tis an awful thing to die,
(’Twas e’en to thee) yet the dread path once trod,
Heav’n lifts its everlasting portals high,
And bids “the pure in heart behold their God.”

How different is the sentiment of the foregoing to the following, said by Pettigrew and other compilers of collections of epitaphs to be inscribed on a monument in a Cumberland church, but as a matter of fact it does not exist on a memorial:—

Here lies the bodies
Of Thomas Bond and Mary his wife.
She was temperate, chaste, and charitable;
But
She was proud, peevish, and passionate.
She was an affectionate wife, and a tender mother:
But
Her husband and child, whom she loved,
Seldom saw her countenance without a disgusting frown,
Whilst she received visitors, whom she despised, with an
endearing smile.
Her behaviour was discreet towards strangers;
But
Independent in her family.
Abroad, her conduct was influenced by good breeding;
But
At home, by ill temper.
She was a professed enemy to flattery,
And was seldom known to praise or commend;
But
The talents in which she principally excelled,
Were difference of opinion, and discovering flaws and
imperfections.
She was an admirable economist,
And, without prodigality,
Dispensed plenty to every person in her family;
But
Would sacrifice their eyes to a farthing candle.
She sometimes made her husband happy with her good
qualities;
But
Much more frequently miserable—with her many failings:
Insomuch that in thirty years cohabitation he often
lamented
That maugre of all her virtues,
He had not, in the whole, enjoyed two years of matrimonial
comfort.
At Length
Finding that she had lost the affections of her husband,
As well as the regard of her neighbours,
Family disputes having been divulged by servants,
She died of vexation, July 20, 1768,
Aged 48 years.

Her worn out husband survived her four months and two days,
And departed this life, Nov. 28, 1768,
In the 54th year of his age.
William Bond, brother to the deceased, erected this stone,
As a weekly monitor, to the surviving wives of this parish,
That they may avoid the infamy
Of having their memories handed to posterity
With a Patch Work character.

In St. Peter’s churchyard, Barton-on-Humber, there is a tombstone with the following strange inscription:—

Doom’d to receive half my soul held dear,
The other half with grief, she left me here.
Ask not her name, for she was true and just;
Once a fine woman, but now a heap of dust.

As may be inferred, no name is given; the date is 1777. A curious and romantic legend attaches to the epitaph. In the above year an unknown lady of great beauty, who is conjectured to have loved “not wisely, but too well,” came to reside in the town. She was accompanied by a gentleman, who left her after making lavish arrangements for her comfort. She was proudly reserved in her manners, frequently took long solitary walks, and studiously avoided all intercourse. In giving birth to a child she died, and did not disclose her name or family connections. After her decease, the gentleman who came with her arrived, and was overwhelmed with grief at the intelligence which awaited him. He took the child away without unravelling the secret, having first ordered the stone to be erected, and delivered into the mason’s hands the verse, which is at once a mystery and a memento. Such are the particulars gathered from “The Social History and Antiquities of Barton-on-Humber,” by H. W. Ball, issued in 1856. Since the publication of Mr. Ball’s book, we have received from him the following notes, which mar somewhat the romantic story as above related. We are informed that the person referred to in the epitaph was the wife of a man named Jonathan Burkitt, who came from the neighbourhood of Grantham. He had been valet de chambre to some gentleman or nobleman, who gave him a large sum of money on his marrying the lady. They came to reside at Barton, where she died in childbirth. Burkitt, after the death of his wife, left the town, taking the infant (a boy), who survived. In about three years he returned, and married a Miss Ostler, daughter of an apothecary at Barton. He there kept the “King’s Head,” a public-house at that time. The man got through about £2,000 between leaving Grantham and marrying his second wife.

On the north wall of the chancel of Southam Church is a slab to the memory of the Rev. Samuel Sands, who, being embarrassed in consequence of his extensive liberality, committed suicide in his study (now the hall of the rectory). The peculiarity of the inscription, instead of suppressing inquiry, invariably raises curiosity respecting it:—

Near this place was deposited, on the 23rd April, 1815, the remains of S. S., 38 years rector of this parish.

From St. Margaret’s, Lynn, on William Scrivenor, cook to the Corporation, who died in 1684, we have the following epitaph:—