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Title: Curious Epitaphs - Collected from the Graveyards of Great Britain and Ireland.
Author: Andrews, William, 1848-1908
Language: English
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  Biographical, Genealogical, and
  Historical Notes.


  Member of the Derbyshire Archæological and Natural History

  Secretary of the Hull Literary Club.

  Local Secretary of the National Society for Preserving the
  Memorials of the Dead.

  Author of "Historic Romance," "Historic Yorkshire,"
  "Punishments in the Olden Time," "Book of Oddities,"
  "History of the Dunmow Flitch," etc.



  ETC., ETC.,
  W. A.


For many years I have collected curious epitaphs, and in this volume I
offer the result of my gleanings. An attempt is herein made to furnish a
book, not compiled from previously published works, but a collection of
curious inscriptions copied from gravestones. Some of the chapters have
appeared under my name in _Chambers's Journal_, _Illustrated Sporting and
Dramatic News_, _Newcastle Courant_, _People's Journal_, (Dundee), _Press
News_, and other publications. I have included a Bibliography of Epitaphs,
believing that it will be useful to those who desire to obtain more
information on the subject than is presented here. I have not seen any
other bibliography of this class of literature, and as a first attempt it
must be incomplete. In compiling it I have had the efficient aid of Mr. W.
G. B. Page, of the Hull Subscription Library, who has also prepared the

I must tender my thanks to the following friends for their valued
assistance: Mrs. Geo. Linnæus Banks, author of the "Manchester Man," Mr.
W. G. Fretton, F.S.A., Mr. Walter Hamilton, F.R.G.S., Mr. Jno. H. Leggott,
F.R.H.S., Rev. R. V. Taylor, B.A., Mr. H. Vickery, and others whose names
appear in the following pages.

In conclusion, I hope that this book will merit from readers and reviewers
a similar welcome to that granted to my former works; in that case I shall
have every reason to be satisfied with my pleasant labour.


  _Hull Literary Club_,
  October 1st, 1883.



  TYPOGRAPHICAL EPITAPHS                          14

  EPITAPHS ON SPORTSMEN                           21

  EPITAPHS ON TRADESMEN                           33

  BACCHANALIAN EPITAPHS                           54


  PUNNING EPITAPHS                                84


  EPITAPHS ON NOTABLE PERSONS                    108

  MISCELLANEOUS EPITAPHS                         150

  BIBLIOGRAPHY OF EPITAPHS                       157

  INDEX                                          173

Curious Epitaphs.


Amongst the most curious of the many peculiar epitaphs which are to be
found in the quiet resting-places of the departed are those placed to the
memory of parish clerks and sextons. We have noted at various times, and
at different places, many strange specimens, a few of which we think will
entertain our readers.

In the churchyard of Crayford is a grave-stone bearing the following

                     Here lieth the body
                        PETER ISNELL,
                 Thirty years clerk of this Parish.
   He lived respected as a pious and mirthful man, and died on his
               way to church to assist at a wedding,
                 On the 31st day of March, 1811,
                         Aged 70 years.

  The inhabitants of Crayford have raised this stone to his cheerful
     memory, and as a tribute to his long and faithful services.

      The life of this clerk, just three score and ten,
      Nearly half of which time he had sung out "Amen;"
      In youth he was married, like other young men,
      But his wife died one day, so he chanted "Amen."
      A second he took, she departed--what then?
      He married and buried a third with "Amen."
      Thus his joys and his sorrows were treble, but then
      His voice was deep bass, as he sung out "Amen."
      On the horn he could blow as well as most men;
      So his horn was exalted to blowing "Amen."
      But he lost all his wind after three score and ten,
      And here, with three wives, he awaits till again
      The trumpet shall rouse him to sing out "Amen."

In addition to being parish clerk, Frank Raw, of Selby, Yorkshire, was a
grave-stone cutter, for we are told:--

  Here lies the body of poor Frank Raw,
  Parish clerk and grave-stone cutter,
  And this is writ to let you know
  What Frank for others used to do,
  Is now for Frank done by another.

The next epitaph, placed to the memory of a parish clerk and
bellows-maker, was formerly in the old church of All Saints,

  Here lies Robert Wallas,
  The King of Good Fellows,
  Clerk of All-Hallows,
  And maker of bellows.

On a slate head-stone, near the south porch of Bingham Church,
Nottinghamshire, is inscribed:--

  Beneath this stone lies Thomas Hart,
  Years fifty eight he took the part
  Of Parish Clerk: few did excel.
  Correct he read and sung so well;
  His words distinct, his voice so clear,
  Till eighteen hundred and fiftieth year.
  Death cut the brittle thread, and then
  A period put to his Amen.
  At eighty-two his breath resigned,
  To meet the fate of all mankind;
  The third of May his soul took flight
  To mansions of eternal light.
  The bell for him with awful tone
  His body summoned to the tomb.
  Oh! may his sins be all forgiv'n
  And Christ receive him into heav'n.

In the same county, from the churchyard of Ratcliffe on Soar, we have a
curious epitaph to the memory of Robert Smith, who died in 1782, aged 82

  Fifty-five years it was, and something more,
  Clerk of this parish he the office bore,
  And in that space, 'tis awful to declare,
  Two generations buried by him were!

In a note by Mr. Llewllynn Jewitt, F.S.A., we are told that with the
clerkship of Bakewell church, the "vocal powers" of its holders, appear
to have been to some extent hereditary, if we may judge by the
inscriptions recording the deaths and the abilities of two members of the
family of Roe which are found on grave-stones in the churchyard there. The
first of these, recording the death of Samuel Roe, is as under:--

             The memory of
              SAMUEL ROE,
    Of the Parish Church of Bakewell,
               Which office
       He filled thirty-five years
          With credit to himself
   And satisfaction to the Inhabitants.
       His natural powers of voice,
  In clearness, strength, and sweetness
       Were altogether unequalled.
       He died October 31st, 1792,
              Aged 70 years.
                         died  aged
  Sarah his third wife | 1811 | 77
  Charles their son    | 1810 | 52

He had three wives, Millicent, who died in 1745, aged 22; Dorothy, who
died 1754, aged 28; and Sarah, who survived him and died in 1811, at the
age of 77. A grave-stone records the death of his first two wives as
follows, and the third is commemorated in the above inscription.

          Wife of Saml Roe,
  She died Sepr 16th, 1745, aged 22.

          Wife of Saml Roe,
  She died Novr 13th, 1754, aged 28.

Respecting the above-mentioned Samuel Roe, a contributor to the
_Gentleman's Magazine_ wrote, on February 13th, 1794:

"Mr. Urban,

"It was with much concern that I read the epitaph upon Mr. Roe, in your
last volume, p. 1192. Upon a little tour which I made in Derbyshire, in
1789, I met with that worthy and very intelligent man at Bakewell, and, in
the course of my antiquarian researches there, derived no inconsiderable
assistance from his zeal and civility. If he did not possess the learning
of his namesake, your old and valuable correspondent, I will venture to
declare that he was not less influenced by a love and veneration for
antiquity, many proofs of which he had given by his care and attention to
the monuments in the church, which were committed to his charge; for he
united the characters of sexton, clerk, singing-master, will-maker, and
school-master. Finding that I was quite alone, he requested permission to
wait upon me at the inn in the evening, urging, as a reason for this
request, that he must be exceedingly gratified by the conversation of a
gentleman who could read the characters upon the monument of Vernon, the
founder of Haddon House, a treat he had not met with for many years. After
a very pleasant gossip we parted, but not till my honest friend had,
after some apparent struggle, begged of me to indulge him with my name."

To his careful attention is to be attributed the preservation of the
curious Vernon and other monuments in the church, over which in some
instances he placed wooden framework to keep off the rough hands and
rougher knives of the boys and young men of the congregation. He also
watched with special care over the Wendesley tomb, and even took careful
rubbings of the inscriptions.

While speaking of this Mr. Roe, it may be well to put the readers of this
work in possession of an interesting fact in connection with the name of
Roe, or Row. The writer above, in his letter to Mr. Urban, says, "If he
did not possess the learning of his namesake, your old and valued
correspondent," &c. By this he means "T Row," whose contributions to the
_Gent's. Mag._ were very numerous and interesting. The writer under this
signature was the Rev. Samuel Pegge, rector of Whittington, and the
letters forming this pseudonym were the initials of the words, T[he]
R[ector] O[f] W[hittington].

Philip Roe, who succeeded his father (Samuel Roe) as parish clerk of
Bakewell, was his son by his third wife. He was born in 1763, and
succeeded his father in full parochial honours in 1792, having, we
believe, for some time previously acted as his deputy. He died in 1815,
aged 52 years, and was buried with the other members of the family. The
following curious inscription appears on his grave-stone:--

          In remembrance of
              PHILIP ROE
      _who died 12th September, 1815_
          AGED 52 YEARS.

  The vocal Powers here let us mark
  Of Philip our late Parish Clerk
  In Church none ever heard a Layman
  With a clearer Voice say "Amen!"
  Who now with Hallelujahs Sound
  Like Him can make the Roofs rebound?
  The Choir lament his Choral Tones
  The Town--so soon Here lie his Bones.
  "Sleep undisturb'd within thy peaceful shrine
  Till Angels wake thee with such notes as thine."

          Also of SARAH his wife
        who departed this life on the
            24th of January 1817
              aged 51 years.

Our genial friend, Cuthbert Bede, B.A., author of "Verdant Green," tells
us, "As a boy I often attended the service at Belbroughton Church,
Worcestershire, where the parish clerk was Mr. Osborne, tailor. His family
had there been parish clerks and tailors since the time of Henry the
Eighth, and were lineally descended from William FitzOsborne, who, in the
twelfth century, had been deprived by Ralph FitzHerbert of his right to
the manor of Bellem, in the parish of Belbroughton. Often have I stood in
the picturesque churchyard of Wolverley, Worcestershire, by the grave of
its old parish clerk, whom I well remember, old Thomas Worrall, the
inscription on whose monument is as follows:--

                  Sacred to the Memory of
                      THOMAS WORRALL,
  Parish Clerk of Wolverley for a period of forty-seven years.
                Died A.D. 1854, February 23rd.
                        Aged 76 years.

        "He served with faithfulness in humble sphere,
          As one who could his talent well employ.
        Hope that when Christ his Lord shall reappear,
          He may be bidden to his Master's joy."

  This tombstone was erected to the memory of the deceased
    by a few of the parishioners in testimony of his worth.

  April, 1855.              Charles R. Somers Cocks, vicar.

It may be noted of this worthy parish clerk that, with the exception of a
week or two before his death, he was never once absent from his Sunday and
weekday duties in the forty-seven years during which he held office. He
succeeded his father, James Worrall, who died in 1806, aged seventy-nine,
after being parish clerk of Wolverley for thirty years. His tombstone,
near to that of his son, was erected "to record his worth both in his
public and private character, and as a mark of personal esteem--h. l. F.
H. & W. C. p. c." I am told that these initials stand for F. Hurtle and
the Rev. William Callow, and that the latter was the author of the
following lines inscribed on the monument, which are well worth quoting:--

  "If courtly bards adorn each statesman's bust,
  And strew their laurels o'er each warrior's dust
  Alike immortalise, as good and great,
  Him who enslaved as him who saved the state,
  Surely the muse (a rustic minstrel) may
  Drop one wild flower upon a poor man's clay;
  This artless tribute to his mem'ry give
  Whose life was such as heroes seldom live.
  In worldly knowledge, poor indeed his store--
  He knew the village and he scarce knew more.
  The worth of heavenly truth he justly knew--
  In faith a Christian, and in practice too.
  Yes, here lies one, excel him ye who can;
  Go! imitate the virtues of that man!"

First amongst notable sextons is the name of Old Scarlett, who died July
2, 1591, at the good old age of ninety-eight, and occupied for a long time
the position as sexton of Peterborough Cathedral. He buried two
generations of his fellow-creatures. A portrait of him, placed at the west
end of that noble church, has perpetuated his fame, and caused him to be
introduced in effigy in various publications. Dr. Robert Chambers in his
entertaining work, the "Book of Days," writes: "And what a lively
effigy--short, stout, hardy, and self-complacent, perfectly satisfied, and
perhaps even proud, of his profession, and content to be exhibited with
all its insignia about him! Two queens had passed through his hands into
that bed which gives a lasting rest to queens and to peasants alike. An
officer of Death, who had so long defied his principal, could not but have
made some impression on the minds of bishop, dean, prebends, and other
magnates of the Cathedral, and hence, as we may suppose, the erection of
this lively portraiture of the old man, which is believed to have been
only once renewed since it was first put up. Dr. Dibdin, who last copied
it, tells us that 'Old Scarlett's jacket and trunkhose are of a brownish
red, his stockings blue, his shoes black, tied with blue ribbons, and the
soles of his feet red. The cap upon his head is red, and so also is the
ground of the coat armour.'"

The following lines below his portrait are characteristic of his age:--

  You see old Scarlett's picture stand on hie;
  But at your feet here doth his body lye.
  His gravestone doth his age and death-time show,
  His office by heis token [s] you may know.
  Second to none for strength and sturdy lymm,
  A scare-babe mighty voice, with visage grim;
  He had inter'd two queenes within this place,
  And this townes householders in his life's space
  Twice over; but at length his own time came
  What he for others did, for him the same
  Was done: no doubt his soule doth live for aye,
  In heaven, though his body clad in clay.

The first of the queens interred by Scarlett was Catherine, the divorced
wife of Henry VIII, who died in 1535, at Kimbolton Castle, in
Huntingdonshire. The second was Mary Queen of Scots, who was beheaded at
Fotheringay in 1587, and first interred here, though subsequently
transported to Westminster Abbey.

Our next example is from Bingley, Yorkshire:--

  In memory of Hezekiah Briggs, who died August 5th, 1844, in the
    80th year of his age. He was sexton at this church 43 years,
             and interred upwards of 7000 corpses.

[Here the names of his wife and several children are given.]

  Here lies an old ringer, beneath the cold clay,
  Who has rung many peals both for serious and gay;
  Through Grandsire and Trebles with ease he could range,
  Till death called a Bob, which brought round the last change.

              For all the village came to him
              When they had need to call;
              His counsel free to all was given,
              For he was kind to all.

            Ring on, ring on, sweet Sabbath bell,
            Still kind to me thy matins swell,
            And when from earthly things i part,
            Sigh o'er my grave, and lull my heart.

An upright stone in the burial ground at Hartwith Chapel, in Nidderdale,
Yorkshire, bears the following inscription:--

  In memory of William Darnbrough, who for the last forty
    years of his life was sexton of this chapel. He died
        October 3rd, 1846, in the one hundreth year
                        of his age.

  "Thou shalt go to thy fathers in peace; thou shalt be buried in a
              good old age."--_Genesis_ xv. 15.

            The graves around for many a year
            Were dug by him who slumbers here,--
            Till worn with age, he dropped his spade,
            And in the dust his bones were laid.

            As he now, mouldering, shares the doom
            Of those he buried in the tomb;
            So shall he, too, with them arise,
            To share the judgment of the skies.

An examination of Pateley Bridge Church registers proves that Darnbrough
was 102 years of age.

An epitaph from Saddleworth, Yorkshire, tells us:--

  Here was interred the body of John Broadbent, Sexton, who
    departed this life, August 3rd, 1769, in the 73rd year of his age.

                Forty-eight years, strange to tell,
                He bore the bier and toll'd the bell,
                And faithfully discharged his trust,
                In "earth to earth" and "dust to dust."
                      Cease to lament,
                      His life is spent,
                The grave is still his element;
                His old friend Death knew 'twas his sphere,
                So kindly laid the sexton here.

At Rothwell, near Leeds, an old sexton is buried in the church porch. A
monumental inscription runs thus:--

  In memory of Thomas Flockton, Sexton 59 years, buried
        23rd day of February, 1783, aged 78 years.

      Here lies within this porch so calm,
        Old Thomas. Pray sound his knell,
      Who thought no song was like a psalm--
        No music like a bell.

At Darlington, there is a Latin epitaph over the remains of Richard
Preston, which has been freely translated as follows:--

  Under this marble are depos'd
    Poor Preston's sad remains.
  Alas! too true for light-rob'd jest
    To sing in playful strains.

  Ye dread possessors of the grave,
    Who feed on others' woe,
  Abstain from Richard's small remains,
    And grateful pity shew;

  For many a weighty corpse he gave
    To you with liberal hand;
  Then sure his little body may
    Some small respect command.

The gravestone bears the date of 1765.

Further examples might be included, but we have given sufficient to show
the varied and curious epitaphs placed to the memory of parish clerks and


The trade of printer is rich in technical terms available for the writer
of epitaphs, as will be seen in the following examples.

Our first inscription is from St. Margaret's Church, Westminster, placed
in remembrance of England's benefactor, the first English printer:--

                   To the memory of
                    WILLIAM CAXTON,
        who first introduced into Great Britain
                  the Art of Printing;
  And who, A.D. 1477 or earlier, exercised that art in the
                  Abbey of Westminster.
                       This Tablet,
    In remembrance of one to whom the literature of this
        country is so largely indebted, was raised,
                  anno Domini MDCCCXX.,
                  by the Roxburghe Club,
              Earl Spencer, K.G., President.

The next is in memory of one Edward Jones, _ob._ 1705-6, _æt._ 53. He was
the "Gazette" Printer of the Savoy, and the following epitaph was appended
to an elegy, entitled, "The Mercury Hawkers in Mourning," and published
on the occasion of his death:--

  Here lies a Printer, famous in his time,
  Whose life by lingering sickness did decline.
  He lived in credit, and in peace he died,
  And often had the chance of Fortune tried.
  Whose smiles by various methods did promote
  Him to the favour of the Senate's vote;
  And so became, by National consent,
  The only Printer of the Parliament.
  Thus by degrees, so prosp'rous was his fate,
  He left his heirs a very good estate.

Another is on a noted printer and bookseller in his day, Jacob Tonson, who
died in 1735:--

    The volume of his life being finished, here is the end of Jacob
    Tonson. Weep, authors, and break your pens; your Tonson, effaced from
    the book, is no more; but print the last inscription on this last page
    of death, for fear that, delivered to the press of the grave, he, the
    Editor, should want a title. Here lies a bookseller, the leaf of his
    life being finished, awaiting a new edition, augmented and corrected.

The celebrated Dr. Benjamin Franklin imitated the above, and designed it
for himself:--

    The body of B. Franklin, Printer, like the cover of an old book, its
    contents torn out, and stripped of its lettering and gilding, lies
    here, food for worms. But the work shall not be wholly lost, for it
    will, as he believed, appear once more, in a new and more perfect
    edition, corrected and amended by the Author. He was born Jan. 6,
    1706. Died ------, 17--. B.F.

Franklin died on the 17th of April, 1790, aged eighty-four years. After
the death of this sturdy patriot and sagacious writer, the following
singular sentiment was inscribed to his memory:--

    Benjamin Franklin, the * of his profession; the type of honesty; the !
    of all; and although the [Symbol: hand] of death put a . to his
    existence, each § of his life is without a ||.

On a plain, flat slab in the burial-ground of Christ-church, Philadelphia,
the following simple inscription appears over the remains of the good man
and his worthy wife:--

  Benjamin }
           } Franklin.
  Deborah  }
            February, 1790.

The pun on the supersession of an old edition by a new and revised one,
has often been worked out, as in the following example, which is that of
the Rev. John Cotton, who died in New England, in 1652:--

  A living, breathing Bible; tables where
  Both covenants at large engraven were;
  Gospel and law in his heart had each its column,
  His head an index to the sacred volume!
  His very name a title-page; and, next,
  His life a commentary on the text.
  Oh, what a moment of glorious worth,
  When in a new edition he comes forth!
  Without errata, we may think 'twill be,
  In leaves and covers of Eternity.

A notable epitaph was that of George Faulkner, the alderman and printer,
of Dublin, who died in 1775:

  Turn, gentle stranger, and this urn revere,
  O'er which Hibernia saddens with a tear.
  Here sleeps George Faulkner, printer, once so dear
  To humorous Swift, and Chesterfield's gay peer;
  So dear to his wronged country and her laws;
  So dauntless when imprisoned in her cause;
  No alderman e'er graced a weighter board,
  No wit e'er joked more freely with a lord.
  None could with him in anecdotes confer;
  A perfect annal-book, in Elzevir.
  Whate'er of glory life's first sheets presage,
  Whate'er the splendour of the title-page,
  Leaf after leaf, though learned lore ensues;
  Close as thy types and various as thy news;
  Yet, George, we see that one lot awaits them all,
  Gigantic folios, or octavos small;
  One universal finis claims his rank,
  And every volume closes in a blank.

In the churchyard of Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk, is a good specimen of a
typographical epitaph, placed in remembrance of a noted printer, who died
in the year 1818. It reads as follows:

        Here lie the remains of L. GEDGE, Printer.
  Like a worn-out character, he has returned to the Founder,
        Hoping that he will be re-cast in a better and
                   more perfect mould.

Our next example is profuse of puns, some of which are rather obscure to
younger readers, owing to the disuse of the old wooden press. It is the
epitaph of a Scotch printer:--

              Sacred to the memory of
                  ADAM WILLIAMSON,
            Pressman-printer, in Edinburgh,
              Who died Oct. 3, 1832,
                  Aged 72 years.

              All my stays are loosed;
      My cap is thrown off; my head is worn out;
                My box is broken;
      My spindle and bar have lost their power;
                My till is laid aside;
  Both legs of my crane are turned out of their path;
        My platen can make no impression;
            My winter hath no spring;
        My rounce will neither roll out nor in;
      Stone, coffin, and carriage have all failed;
  The hinges of my tympan and frisket are immovable;
          My long and short ribs are rusted;
    My cheeks are much worm-eaten and mouldering
              My press is totally down:
            The volume of my life is finished,
              Not without many errors;
  Most of them have arisen from bad composition, and
    are to be attributed more to the chase than the
      There are also a great number of my own:
    Misses, scuffs, blotches, blurs, and bad register;
  But the true and faithful Superintendent has undertaken
              to correct the whole.
          When the machine is again set up
              (incapable of decay),
    A new and perfect edition of my life will appear,
  Elegantly bound for duration, and every way fitted
        for the grand Library of the Great Author.

The next specimen is less satisfactory, because devoid of the hope that
should encircle the death of the Christian. It is the epitaph which
Baskerville, the celebrated Birmingham printer and type founder, directed
to be placed upon a tomb of masonry in the shape of a cone, and erected
over his remains:--

      Beneath this cone, in unconsecrated ground,
        A friend to the liberties of mankind
          Directed his body to be inurned.
  May the example contribute to emancipate thy mind
      from the idle fears of superstition, and the
              wicked arts of priestcraft.

It is recorded that "The tomb has long since been overturned, and even the
remains of the man himself desecrated and dispersed till the final day of
resurrection, when the atheism which in his later years he professed, will
receive assuredly so complete and overwhelming a refutation."

In 1599 died Christopher Barker, one of the most celebrated of the
sixteenth century typographers, printer to Queen Elizabeth--to whom, in
fact, the present patent, held by Eyre and Spottiswode, can be traced back
in unbroken succession.

  Here Barker lies, once printer to the Crown,
  Whose works of art acquired a vast renown.
  Time saw his worth, and spread around his fame,
  That future printers might imprint the same.
  But when his strength could work the press no more
  And his last sheets were folded into store,
  Pure faith, with hope (the greatest treasure given),
  Opened their gates, and bade him pass to heaven.

We shall bring to a close our examples of typographical epitaphs with the
following, copied from the graveyard of St. Michael's, Coventry, on a
worthy printer who was engaged over sixty years as a compositor on the
_Coventry Mercury_:--

                    lies inter'd
                 the mortal remains
                     JOHN HULM,
           who, like an old, worn-out type,
              battered by frequent use,
                reposes in the grave.
  But not without a hope that at some future time
    he might be cast in the mould of righteousness,
                 And safely locked-up
             in the chase of immortality.
     He was distributed from the board of life
          on the 9th day of Sept., 1827,
                      Aged 75.
           Regretted by his employers,
        and respected by his fellow artists.


The stirring lives of sportsmen have suggested spirited lines for their
tombstones, as will be seen from the examples we bring under the notice of
our readers.

The first epitaph is from Morville churchyard, near Bridgnorth, on John
Charlton, Esq., who was for many years Master of the Wheatland Foxhounds,
and died January 20th, 1843, aged 63 years; regretted by all who knew

  Of this world's pleasure I have had my share,
  And few the sorrows I was doomed to bear.
  How oft have I enjoy'd the noble chase
  Of hounds and foxes striving for the race!
  But hark! the knell of death calls me away,
  So sportsmen, all, farewell! I must obey.

Our next is written on Mills, the huntsman:--

  Here lies John Mills, who over the hills
    Pursued the hounds with hallo:
  The leap though high, from earth to sky,
    The huntsman we must follow.

A short, rough, but pregnant epitaph is placed over the remains of Robert
Hackett, a keeper of Hardwick Park, who died in 1703, and was buried in
Ault Hucknall churchyard:--

  Long had he chased
    The Red and Fallow Deer,
  But Death's cold dart
    At last has fix'd him here.

George Dixon, a noted foxhunter, is buried in Luton churchyard, and on his
gravestone the following appears:--

  Stop, passenger, and thy attention fix on,
  That true-born, honest, fox-hunter, GEORGE DIXON,
  Who, after eighty years' unwearied chase,
  Now rests his bones within this hallow'd place.
  A gentle tribute of applause bestow,
  And give him, as you pass, one _tally-ho_!
  Early to cover, brisk he rode each morn,
  In hopes the _brush_ his temple might adorn;
  The view is now no more, the chase is past,
  And to an earth, poor GEORGE is run at last.

On a stone in the graveyard of Mottram the following inscription

         In the memory of GEORGE NEWTON,
                of Stalybridge,
           who died August 7th, 1871,
          in the 94th year of his age.

  Though he liv'd long, the old man has gone at last,
  No more he'll hear the huntsman's stirring blast;
  Though fleet as Reynard in his youthful prime,
  At last he's yielded to the hand of Time.
  Blithe as a lark, dress'd in his coat of green,
  With hounds and horn the old man was seen.
  But ah! Death came, worn out and full of years,
  He died in peace, mourn'd by his offsprings' tears.

    "Let us run with patience the race that is set before us."

In the churchyard of Ecclesfield, may be read the following epitaph:--

        In memory of THOMAS RIDGE,
        the Ecclesfield huntsman,
    who died 13th day of January, 1871,
              Aged 77 years.

  Though fond of sport, devoted of the chase,
  And with his fellow-hunters first in place,
  He always kept the Lord's appointed day,
  Never from church or Sunday-school away.
  And now his body rests beneath the sod,
  His soul relying in the love of God.

Of the many epitaphs on sportsmen to be seen in Nottinghamshire, we cull a
few of the choicest. Our first is a literal copy from a weather-worn stone
in Eakring churchyard, placed to the memory of Henry Cartwright, senior
keeper to his Grace the Duke of Kingston for fifty-five years, who died
February 13th, 1773, aged eighty years, ten months, and three weeks:--

  My gun discharged, my ball is gone
  My powder's spent, my work is done,
  those panting deer I have left behind,
  May now have time to Gain their wind,
  Who I have oft times Chass'd them ore
  the burial Plains, but now no more.

We next present particulars of a celebrated deer-stealer. According to a
notice furnished in the "Nottingham Date Book," the deeds of Tom Booth
were for many years after his death a never-failing subject of
conversational interest in Nottingham. It is stated that no modern
deer-stealer was anything like so popular. Thorsby relates one exploit as
follows: "In Nottingham Park, at one time, was a favourite fine deer, a
chief ranger, on which Tom and his wily companions had often cast their
eyes; but how to deceive the keeper while they killed it was a task of
difficulty. The night, however, in which they accomplished their
purpose--whether by any settled plan or not is not known--they found the
keeper at watch, as usual, in a certain place in the park. One of them,
therefore, went in an opposite direction in the park, and fired his gun to
make the keeper believe he had shot a deer; upon which away goes the
keeper, in haste, to the spot, which was at a very considerable distance
from the place where the favourite deer was, and near which Tom Booth was
skulking. Tom, waiting a proper time, when he thought the keeper at a
sufficient distance for accomplishing his purpose, fired and killed the
deer, and dragged it through the river Leen undiscovered." Booth was a
stout man, and by trade a whitesmith. The stone marking the place of his
interment is still in good preservation, and stands in St. Nicholas'
burial-ground, against the southern wall of the church. It bears the
following inscription:--

  Here lies a marksman, who with art and skill,
  When young and strong, fat bucks and does did kill.
  Now conquered by grim Death (go, reader, tell it!)
  He's now took leave of powder, gun, and pellet.
  A fatal dart, which in the dark did fly,
  Has laid him down, among the dead to lie.
  If any want to know the poor slave's name,
  'Tis old Tom Booth,--ne'er ask from whence he came.

Old Tom was so highly pleased with the epitaph, which was written before
his death, that he had it engraved on the stone some months before its
services were required. In addition to the epitaph itself, the head-stone
was made to include Booth's name, &c., and also that of his wife, blank
places being left in each case for the age and time of death. Booth's
compartment of the stone was in due course properly filled up; but the
widow, disliking the exhibition of her name on a tombstone while living,
resolved that such stone should never indicate her resting place when
dead; she accordingly left an injunction that her body be interred
elsewhere, and the inscription is incomplete to this day.

Some time before Amos Street, a celebrated Yorkshire huntsman died, a
stone was obtained, and on it engraved the following lines:--

  This is to the memory of Old Amos,
  Who was when alive for hunting famous;
  But now his chases are all o'er,
  And here he's earth'd, of years four score.
  Upon this tomb he's often sat
  And tried to read his epitaph;
  And thou who dost so at this moment
  Shall ere long like him be dormant.

Poor "Old Amos" passed away on October 3rd, 1777, and was buried in
Birstal churchyard. The foregoing inscription may still be read.

The Rev. R. H. Whitworth tells us: "There is an old monument in the south
aisle of Blidworth Church, to the memory of Thomas Leake, Esq., who was
killed at Blidworth Rocking in A.D. 1598. He may be regarded as the last
of the race who sat in Robin Hood's seat, if those restless Forest Chiefs,
typified under that name, can be supposed ever to have sat at all. Leake
held office under the Crown, but was as wild a freebooter as ever drew
bow. His character is portrayed in his epitaph--


The border of this monument is rudely panelled, each panel having some
forest hunting subject in relief. There are hounds getting scent, and a
hound pursuing an antlered stag; a hunting horn, ribboned; plunging and
flaying knives, a cross-bow, a forest-bow, two arrows, and two hunters'
belts with arrows inserted. This is his register--

  Thomas Leake, esquire, buried the
        4th February, 1598.

There is a captivating bit of romance connected with Leake's death, which
occurred at Archer's Water. Although somewhat 'provectus in ætate,' he had
won the affections of the landlady's daughter, much to the annoyance of
the mother. Archer's Water was on the old driftroad by Blidworth, from
Edinburgh to London, that by which Jeannie Deans travelled, and over which
Dick Turpin rode. Hundreds of thousands of Scotch cattle went by this way
to town, and there was a difficulty connected with a few of them in which
Leake was concerned, and a price being set upon his head, his
mother-in-law, that was to be, betrayed him to two young soldiers anxious
to secure the reward, one of whom was, in the mother's eyes, the more
favoured lover. Tom was always attended by two magnificent dogs and went
well armed. Thrown off his guard he left his dogs in an outhouse, and
entering the inn laid aside his weapons, when he was set upon and
overpowered, and like many better men before him, slain. The name of a
Captain Salmond of the now extinct parish or manor of Salterford is
connected with this transaction. The date of the combat is 2nd February,
being the festival of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple, with which
the highly interesting and historical observance of Blidworth _Rocking_ is
connected. Within the memory of living men, a baby decked with such
flowers as the season afforded, was placed in a cradle and carried about
from house to house by an old man, who received a present on the occasion.
As the church is dedicated to St. Mary in connection with the
Purification, the 2nd of February being the Feast Day, this is probably an
interesting reminiscence of some old species of Miracle Play, or
observance connected with the foundation. Anciently people from all
neighbouring counties used to attend this season. Forest games were
played, and amid the attendant licence and confusion, Leake came to his
last grief. Not only in the church does this Ranger of the Blidworth Wood,
for this was his office, possess a memorial. A large cross was erected,
now standing at Fountain Dale, thus inscribed:--

        Hoc crucis fragmen
  Traditum a sylvicolis monumentum
   Loci ubi in singulari certamine
      Gladiator ille insignis
            Tho. Leake
          Mori occubuit
          Anno MDCVIII.

      Ab antiqua sede remotum
            H. P. C.
         Joannes Downall
    Prid. Non Sext. MDCCCXXXVI.

What became of the daughter tradition sayeth not. Doubtless she died, as
Tom Leake's intended bride ought, of grief, and was buried under some
grand old oak in Blidworth Forest."

Let us direct attention to another class of sportsmen. At Bunney, a
monument is erected to Sir Thomas Parkyns, the well-known wrestler. It
bears four lines in Latin, which have been translated thus:--

  At length he falls, the long contest's o'er,
  And Time has thrown whom none e'er threw before;
  Yet boast not (Time) thy victory, for he
  At last shall rise again and conquer thee.

The next is copied from a stone in St. Michael's churchyard, Coventry, on
a famous fencing-master:--

        To the memory of Mr. John Parkes,
              A native of this City
        He was a man of mild disposition,
            A Gladiator by profession;
        Who after having fought 350 battles,
          In the principal parts of Europe,
            With honour and applause,
  At length quitted the stage, sheathed his sword,
          And with Christian resignation,
          Submitted to the Grand Victor
            In the 52nd year of his age
                Anno Domini 1733.

An old stone bearing the foregoing inscription was replaced by a new one
some years ago at the expense of the late S. Carter, Esq., formerly member
of parliament for Coventry. In the pages of the _Spectator_ honourable
mention is made of John Parkes.

In the churchyard of Hanslope, is buried Sandy M'Kay, the Scottish giant,
who was killed in a prize-fight with Simon Byrne. A headstone bears the
following inscription:--

      Sacred to the memory of
           ALEX. M'KAY,
        (Late of Glasgow),
      Who died 3rd June, 1834,
          Aged 26 years.

  Strong and athletic was my frame;
  Far from my native home I came,
  And manly fought with Simon Byrne;
  Alas! but lived not to return.
  Reader, take warning of my fate,
  Lest you should rue your case too late:
  If you ever have fought before,
  Determine now to fight no more.

We are informed that Byrne was killed shortly afterwards, whilst engaged
in fighting.

From the prize-ring let us turn to the more satisfactory amusement of
cricket. In Highgate cemetery, Lillywhite, the celebrated cricketer, is
buried, and over his remains is placed a monument with the significant
emblem of a wicket being upset with a ball.

The following lines are said to be copied from the tombstone in a cemetery
near Salisbury:--

  I bowl'd, I struck, I caught, I stopp'd,
    Sure life's a game of cricket;
  I block'd with care, with caution popp'd,
    Yet Death has hit my wicket.

The Tennis Ball is introduced in an epitaph placed in St. Michael's
Church, Coventry. It reads thus:--

    "Here lyes the Body of Captain Gervase Scrope, of the Family of
    Scropes, of Bolton, in the County of York, who departed this life the
    26th day of August, Anno Domini, 1705."


        Here lyes an Old Toss'd Tennis Ball,
        Was Racketted from Spring to Fall
        With so much heat, and so much hast,
        Time's arm (for shame) grew tyr'd at last,
        Four Kings in Camps he truly seru'd,
        And from his Loyalty ne'r sweru'd.
        Father ruin'd, the Son slighted,
        And from the Crown ne'r requited.
        Loss of Estate, Relations, Blood,
        Was too well Known, but did no good,
        With long Campaigns and paines of th' Govt,
        He cou'd no longer hold it out:
        Always a restless life he led,
        Never at quiet till quite dead,
        He marry'd in his latter dayes,
        One who exceeds the com'on praise,
        But wanting breath still to make Known
        Her true Affection and his Own,
        Death kindly came, all wants supply'd
        By giuing Rest which life deny'd.

We conclude this class of epitaphs with a couple of piscatorial examples.
The first is from the churchyard of Hythe:--

  His net old fisher George long drew,
    Shoals upon shoals he caught,
  'Till Death came hauling for his due,
    And made poor George his draught.
  Death fishes on through various shapes,
    In vain it is to fret;
  Nor fish nor fisherman escapes
    Death's all-enclosing net.

In the churchyard of Great Yarmouth, under date of 1769, an epitaph runs

  Here lies doomed,
  In this vault so dark,
  A soldier weaver, _angler_, and clerk;
  Death snatched him hence, and from him took
  His gun, his shuttle, fish-rod, and hook.
  He could not weave, nor fish, nor fight, so then
  He left the world, and faintly cried--Amen.


Many interesting epitaphs are placed to the memory of tradesmen. Often
they are not of an elevating character, nor highly poetical, but they
display the whims and oddities of men. We will first present a few
relating to the watch and clock-making trade. The first specimen is from
Lydford churchyard, on the borders of Dartmoor:--

         Here lies, in horizontal position,
                the outside case of
           GEORGE ROUTLEIGH, Watchmaker;
    Whose abilities in that line were an honour
                 to his profession.
  Integrity was the Mainspring, and prudence the
           of all the actions of his life.
           Humane, generous, and liberal,
               his Hand never stopped
            till he had relieved distress.
      So nicely regulated were all his motions,
            that he never went wrong,
            except when set a-going
                  by people
          who did not know his Key;
            even then he was easily
                set right again.
  He had the art of disposing his time so well,
          that his hours glided away
            in one continual round
          of pleasure and delight,
    until an unlucky minute put a period to
                his existence.
              He departed this life
                  Nov. 14, 1802,
                    aged 57:
                    wound up,
          in hopes of being taken in hand
                  by his Maker;
    and of being thoroughly cleaned, repaired,
                  and set a-going
                in the world to come.

In the churchyard of Uttoxeter, a monument is placed to the memory of
Joseph Slater, who died November 21st, 1822, aged 49 years:--

  Here lies one who strove to equal time,
  A task too hard, each power too sublime;
  Time stopt his motion, o'erthrew his balance-wheel,
  Wore off his pivots, tho' made of hardened steel;
  Broke all his springs, the verge of life decayed,
  And now he is as though he'd ne'er been made.
  Such frail machine till time's no more shall rust,
  And the archangel wakes our sleeping dust;
  Then in assembled worlds in glory join,
  And sing--"The hand that made us is divine."

Our next is from Berkeley, Gloucestershire:--

  Here lyeth Thomas Peirce, whom no man taught,
  Yet he in iron, brass, and silver wrought;
  He jacks, and clocks, and watches (with art) made
  And mended, too, when others' work did fade.
  Of Berkeley, five times Mayor this artist was,
  And yet this Mayor, this artist, was but grass.
  When his own watch was down on the last day,
  He that made watches had not made a key
  To wind it up; but useless it must lie,
  Until he rise again no more to die.
      Died February 25th, 1665, aged 77.

The following is from Bolsover churchyard, Derbyshire:--

    lies, in a horizontal position, the outside
                    case of
                  THOMAS HINDE,
              Clock and Watch-maker,
  Who departed this life, wound up in hope of
  being taken in hand by his Maker, and being
  thoroughly cleaned, repaired, and set a-going
            in the world to come,
          On the 15th of August, 1836,
          In the 19th year of his age.

Respecting the next example, our friend, Mr. Edward Walford, M.A., wrote
to the _Times_ as follows: "Close to the south-western corner of the
parish churchyard of Hampstead there has long stood a square tomb, with a
scarcely decipherable inscription, to the memory of a man of science of
the last century, whose name is connected with the history of practical
navigation. The tomb, having stood there for more than a century, had
become somewhat dilapidated, and has lately undergone a careful
restoration at the cost and under the supervision of the Company of
Clockmakers, and the fact is recorded in large characters on the upper
face. The tops of the upright iron railings which surround the tomb have
been gilt, and the restored inscription runs as follows: 'In memory of Mr.
John Harrison, late of Red Lion-square, London, inventor of the
time-keeper for ascertaining the longitude at sea. He was born at Foulby,
in the county of York, and was the son of a builder of that place, who
brought him up to the same profession. Before he attained the age of 21,
he, without any instruction, employed himself in cleaning and repairing
clocks and watches, and made a few of the former, chiefly of wood. At the
age of 25 he employed his whole time in chronometrical improvements. He
was the inventor of the gridiron pendulum, and the method of preventing
the effects of heat and cold upon time-keepers by two bars fixed together;
he introduced the secondary spring, to keep them going while winding up,
and was the inventor of most (or all) the improvements in clocks and
watches during his time. In the year 1735 his first time-keeper was sent
to Lisbon, and in 1764 his then much improved fourth time-keeper having
been sent to Barbadoes, the Commissioners of Longitude certified that he
had determined the longitude within one-third of half a degree of a great
circle, having not erred more than forty seconds in time. After sixty
years' close application to the above pursuits, he departed this life on
the 24th day of March, 1776, aged 83.

In an epitaph in High Wycombe churchyard, life is compared to the working
of a clock. It runs thus:--

        Of no distemper,
        Of no blast he died,
                  But fell,
        Like Autumn's fruit,
        That mellows long,
                  Even wondered at
        Because he dropt not sooner.
        Providence seemed to wind him up
                  For fourscore years,
        Yet ran he nine winters more;
                  Till, like a clock,
        Worn out with repeating time,
        The wheels of weary life
                  At last stood still.
  In memory of JOHN ABDIDGE, Alderman.
                Died 1785.

We have some curious specimens of engineers' epitaphs. A good example is
copied from the churchyard of Bridgeford-on-the-Hill, Notts:--

  Sacred to the Memory of JOHN WALKER, the only son of
  Benjamin and Ann Walker, Engineer and Pallisade Maker,
  died September 22nd, 1832, aged 36 years.

        Farewell, my wife and father dear;
        My glass is run, my work is done,
        And now my head lies quiet here.
        That many an engine I've set up,
        And got great praise from men,
        I made them work on British ground,
        And on the roaring seas;
        My engine's stopp'd, my valves are bad,
        And lie so deep within;
        No engineer could there be found
        To put me new ones in.
        But Jesus Christ converted me
        And took me up above,
        I hope once more to meet once more,
        And sing redeeming love.

Our next is on a railway engineer, who died in 1840, and was buried in
Bromsgrove churchyard:--

  My engine now is cold and still,
  No water does my boiler fill;
  My coke affords its flame no more;
  My days of usefulness are o'er;
  My wheels deny their noted speed,
  No more my guiding hand they need;
  My whistle, too, has lost its tone,
  Its shrill and thrilling sounds are gone;
  My valves are now thrown open wide;
  My flanges all refuse to guide,
  My clacks also, though once so strong,
  Refuse to aid the busy throng:
  No more I feel each urging breath;
  My steam is now condensed in death.
  Life's railway o'er, each station's passed,
  In death I'm stopped, and rest at last.
  Farewell, dear friends, and cease to weep:
  In Christ I'm safe; in Him I sleep.

The epitaph we next give is on the driver of the coach that ran between
Aylesbury and London, by the Rev. H. Bullen, Vicar of Dunton, Bucks, in
whose churchyard the man was buried:--

  Parker, farewell! thy journey now is ended,
  Death has the whip-hand, and with dust is blended;
  Thy way-bill is examined, and I trust
  Thy last account may prove exact and just.
  When he who drives the chariot of the day,
  Where life is light, whose Word's the living way,
  Where travellers, like yourself, of every age,
  And every clime, have taken their last stage,
  The God of mercy, and the God of love,
  Show you the road to Paradise above!

Lord Byron wrote on John Adams, carrier, of Southwell, Nottinghamshire, an
epitaph as follows:--

  John Adams lies here, of the parish of Southwell,
  A carrier who carried his can to his mouth well;
  He carried so much, and he carried so fast
  He could carry no more--so was carried at last;
  For the liquor he drank, being too much for one,
  He could not carry off--so he's now carri-on.

On Hobson, the famous University carrier, the following lines were

  Here lies old Hobson: death has broke his girt,
  And here! alas, has laid him in the dirt;
  Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one
  He's here stuck in a slough and overthrown:
  'Twas such a shifter, that, if truth were known,
  Death was half glad when he had got him down;
  For he had any time these ten years full,
  Dodged with him betwixt Cambridge and the Bull;
  And surely Death could never have prevailed,
  Had not his weekly course of carriage failed.
  But lately finding him so long at home,
  And thinking now his journey's end was come,
  And that he had ta'en up his latest inn,
  In the kind office of a chamberlain
  Showed him the room where he must lodge that night,
  Pulled off his boots and took away the light.
  If any ask for him it shall be said,
  Hobson has supt and's newly gone to bed.

In Trinity churchyard, Sheffield, formerly might be seen an epitaph on a
bookseller, as follows:--

           In Memory of
       RICHARD SMITH, who died
      April 6th, 1757, aged 52.

  At thirteen years I went to sea;
    To try my fortune there,
  But lost my friend, which put an end
    To all my interest there.
  To land I came as 'twere by chance,
  At twenty then I taught to dance,
  And yet unsettled in my mind,
  To something else I was inclined;
  At twenty-five laid dancing down,
  To be a bookseller in this town,
  Where I continued without strife,
  Till death deprived me of my life.
  Vain world, to thee I bid farewell,
  To rest within this silent cell,
  Till the great God shall summon all
  To answer His majestic call,
  Then, Lord, have mercy on us all.

The following epitaph was written on James Lackington, a celebrated
bookseller, and eccentric character:--

  Good passenger, one moment stay,
  And contemplate this heap of clay;
  'Tis LACKINGTON that claims a pause,
  Who strove with death, but lost his cause:
  A stranger genius ne'er need be
  Than many a merry year was he.
  Some faults he had, some virtues too
  (The devil himself should have his due);
  And as dame fortune's wheel turn'd round,
  Whether at top or bottom found,
  He never once forgot his station,
  Nor e'er disown'd a poor relation;
  In poverty he found content,
  Riches ne'er made him insolent.
  When poor, he'd rather read than eat,
  When rich books form'd his highest treat,
  His first great wish to act, with care,
  The sev'ral parts assigned him here;
  And, as his heart to truth inclin'd,
  He studied hard the truth to find.
  Much pride he had,--'twas love of fame,
  And slighted gold, to get a name;
  But fame herself prov'd greatest gain,
  For riches follow'd in her train.
  Much had he read, and much had thought,
  And yet, you see, he's come to nought;
  Or out of print, as he would say,
  To be revised some future day:
  Free from errata, with addition,
  A new and a complete edition.

At Rugby, on Joseph Cave, Dr. Hawksworth, wrote:--

          Near this place lies the body of
                  JOSEPH CAVE,
              Late of this parish;
        Who departed this life Nov. 18, 1747,
                 Aged 79 years.

    He was placed by Providence in a humble station; but industry
    abundantly supplied the wants of nature, and temperance blest him with
    content and wealth. As he was an affectionate father, he was made
    happy in the decline of life by the deserved eminence of his eldest


    who, without interest, fortune, or connection, by the native force of
    his own genius, assisted only by a classical education, which he
    received at the Grammar School of this town, planned, executed, and
    established a literary work called

    _The Gentleman's Magazine_,

    whereby he acquired an ample fortune, the whole of which devolved to
    his family.

             Here also lies
        The body of WILLIAM CAVE,

    second son of the said JOSEPH CAVE, who died May 2, 1757, aged 62
    years, and who, having survived his elder brother,


    inherited from him a competent estate; and, in gratitude to his
    benefactor, ordered this monument to perpetuate his memory.

        He lived a patriarch in his numerous race,
        And shew'd in charity a Christian's grace:
        Whate'er a friend or parent feels he knew;
        His hand was open, and his heart was true;
        In what he gain'd and gave, he taught mankind
        A grateful always is a generous mind.
        Here rests his clay! his soul must ever rest,
        Who bless'd when living, dying must be blest.

The well-known blacksmith's epitaph, said to be written by the poet
Hayley, may be found in many churchyards in this country. It formed the
subject of a sermon delivered on Sunday, the 27th day of August, 1837, by
the then Vicar of Crich, Derbyshire, to a large assembly. We are told that
the vicar appeared much excited, and read the prayers in a hurried manner.
Without leaving the desk, he proceeded to address his flock for the last
time; and the following is the substance thereof: "To-morrow, my friends,
this living will be vacant, and if any one of you is desirous of becoming
my successor he has now an opportunity. Let him use his influence, and who
can tell but he may be honoured with the title of Vicar of Crich. As this
is my last address, I shall only say, had I been a blacksmith, or a son of
Vulcan, the following lines might not have been inappropriate:--

  My sledge and hammer lie reclined,
  My bellows, too, have lost their wind;
  My fire's extinct, my forge decayed,
  And in the dust my vice is laid.
  My coal is spent, my iron's gone,
  My nails are drove, my work is done;
  My fire-dried corpse lies here at rest,
  And, smoke-like, soars up to be bless'd.

If you expect anything more, you are deceived; for I shall only say,
Friends, farewell, farewell!" The effect of this address was too visible
to pass unnoticed. Some appeared as if awakened from a fearful dream, and
gazed at each other in silent astonishment; others for whom it was too
powerful for their risible nerves to resist, burst into boisterous
laughter, while one and all slowly retired from the scene, to exercise
their future cogitations on the farewell discourse of their late pastor.

From Silkstone churchyard we have the following on a Potter and his

    In memory of John Taylor, of Silkstone, potter, who departed this
    life, July 14th, Anno Domini 1815, aged 72 years.

    Also Hannah, his wife, who departed this life, August 13th, 1815, aged
    68 years.

        Out of the clay they got their daily bread,
        Of clay were also made.
        Returned to clay they now lie dead,
        Where all that's left must shortly go.
        To live without him his wife she tried,
        Found the task hard, fell sick, and died.
        And now in peace their bodies lay,
        Until the dead be called away,
        And moulded into spiritual clay.

On a poor woman who kept an earthenware shop at Chester, the following
epitaph was composed:--

  Beneath this stone lies CATHERINE GRAY,
  Changed to a lifeless lump of clay;
  By earth and clay she got her pelf,
  And now she's turned to earth herself.
  Ye weeping friends, let me advise,
  Abate your tears and dry your eyes;
  For what avails a flood of tears?
  Who knows but in a course of years,
  In some tall pitcher or brown pan,
  She in her shop may be again.

Our next is from the churchyard of Aliscombe, Devonshire:--

    Here lies the remains of JAMES PADY, brickmaker, late of this parish,
    in hopes that his clay will be remoulded in a workmanlike manner, far
    superior to his former perishable materials.

        Keep death and judgment always in your eye,
        Or else the devil off with you will fly,
        And in his kiln with brimstone ever fry:
        If you neglect the narrow road to seek,
        Christ will reject you, like a half-burnt brick!

In the old churchyard of Bullingham, on the gravestone of a builder, the
following lines appear:--

  This humble stone is o'er a builder's bed,
  Tho' raised on high by fame, low lies his head.
  His rule and compass are now locked up in store.
  Others may build, but he will build no more.
  His house of clay so frail, could hold no longer--
  May he in heaven be tenant of a stronger!

In Colton churchyard, Staffordshire, is a mason's tombstone decorated with
carving of square and compass, in relief, and bearing the following
characteristic inscription:--

           Sacred to the memory of
               JAMES HEYWOOD,
     Who died May 4th, 1804, in the 55th
              year of his age.

  The corner-stone I often times have dress'd;
  In Christ, the corner-stone, I now find rest.
  Though by the Builder he rejected were,
  He is my God, my Rock, I build on here.

In the churchyard of Longnor the following quaint epitaph is placed over
the remains of a carpenter:--

           Memory of SAMUEL
           BAGSHAW late of Har-
           ding-booth who depar-
           ted this life June the
           5th 1787 aged 71 years.

  Beneath lie mouldering into Dust
  A Carpenter's Remains.
  A man laborious, honest, just: his Character sustains.
  In seventy-one revolving Years
  He sow'd no Seeds of Strife;
  With Ax and Saw, Line, Rule and Square, employed his careful life.
  But Death who view'd his peaceful Lot
  His Tree of Life assail'd
  His Grave was made upon this spot, and his last Branch he nail'd.

Our next is from Hessle, near Hull, where over the remains of George
Prissick, plumber and glazier, is the following epitaph:--

  Adieu, my friend, my thread of life is spun;
  The diamond will not cut, the solder will not run;
  My body's turned to ashes, my grief and troubles past,
  I've left no one to worldly care--and I shall rise at last.

On a dyer, from the church of St. Nicholas, Yarmouth, we have as

  Here lies a man who first did dye,
    When he was twenty four,
  And yet he lived to reach the age,
    Of hoary hairs, fourscore.
  But now he's gone, and certain 'tis
    He'll not dye any more.

In Sleaford churchyard, on Henry Fox, a weaver, the following lines are

  Of tender thread this mortal web is made,
  The woof and warp and colours early fade;
  When power divine awakes the sleeping dust,
  He gives immortal garments to the just.

Our next, epitaph from Weston, is placed over the remains of a useful
member of society in his time:--

  Here lies entomb'd within this vault so dark,
  A tailor, cloth-drawer, soldier, and parish clerk;
  Death snatch'd him hence, and also from him took
  His needle, thimble, sword, and prayer-book.
  He could not work, nor fight,--what then?
  He left the world, and faintly cried, "Amen!"

On an Oxford bellows-maker, the following lines were written:--

  Here lyeth John Cruker, a maker of bellowes,
  His craftes-master and King of good fellowes;
  Yet when he came to the hour of his death,
  He that made bellowes, could not make breath.

The next epitaph, on Joseph Blakett, poet and shoemaker of Seaham, is said
to be from Byron's pen:--

  Stranger! behold interr'd together
  The souls of learning and of leather.
  Poor Joe is gone, but left his awl--
  You'll find his relics in a stall.
  His work was neat, and often found
  Well-stitched and with morocco bound.
  Tread lightly--where the bard is laid
  We cannot mend the shoe he made;
  Yet he is happy in his hole,
  With verse immortal as his sole.
  But still to business he held fast,
  And stuck to Phoebus to the last.
  Then who shall say so good a fellow
  Was only leather and prunella?
  For character--he did not lack it,
  And if he did--'twere shame to Black it!

The following lines are on a cobbler:--

  Death at a cobbler's door oft made a stand,
  But always found him on the mending hand;
  At length Death came, in very dirty weather,
  And ripp'd the soul from off the upper leather:
  The cobbler lost his all,--Death gave his last,
  And buried in oblivion all the past.

Respecting Robert Gray, a correspondent writes: He was a native of
Taunton, and at an early age he lost his parents, and went to London to
seek his fortune. Here, as an errand boy, he behaved so well, that his
master took him apprentice, and afterwards set him up in business, by
which he made a large fortune. In his old age he retired from trade and
returned to Taunton, where he founded a hospital. On his monument is the
following inscription:--

  Taunton bore him; London bred him;
  Piety train'd him; Virtue led him;
  Earth enrich'd him; Heaven possess'd him;
  Taunton bless'd him; London bless'd him:
  This thankful town, that mindful city,
  Share his piety and pity,
  What he gave, and how he gave it,
  Ask the poor, and you shall have it.
  Gentle reader, may Heaven strike
  Thy tender heart to do the like;
  And now thy eyes have read his story,
  Give him the praise, and God the glory.

He died at the age of 65 years, in 1635.

In Rotherham churchyard the following is inscribed on a miller:--

             In memory of
             EDWARD SWAIR,
  who departed this life, June 16, 1781.

  Here lies a man which Farmers lov'd
    Who always to them constant proved;
  Dealt with freedom, Just and Fair--
    An honest miller all declare.

On a Bristol baker we have the following:--

    Here lies THO. TURAR, and MARY, his wife. He was twice Master of the
    Company of Bakers, and twice Churchwarden of this parish. He died
    March 6, 1654. She died May 8th, 1643.

        Like to the baker's oven is the grave,
        Wherein the bodyes of the faithful have
        A setting in, and where they do remain
        In hopes to rise, and to be drawn again;
        Blessed are they who in the Lord are dead,
        Though set like dough, they shall be drawn like bread.

Here are some witty lines on a carpenter named John Spong, who died 1739,
and is buried in Ockham churchyard:--

  Who many a sturdy oak has laid along,
  Fell'd by Death's surer hatchet, here lies JOHN SPONG.
  Post oft he made, yet ne'er a place could get
  And lived by railing, tho' he was no wit.
  Old saws he had, although no antiquarian;
  And stiles corrected, yet was no grammarian.
  Long lived he Ockham's favourite architect,
  And lasting as his fame a tomb t' erect,
  In vain we seek an artist such as he,
  Whose pales and piles were for eternity.

On the tomb of an auctioneer in the churchyard at Corby, in the county of
Lincoln, we have found:--

  Beneath this stone, facetious wight
  Lies all that's left of Poor Joe Wright;
  Few heads with knowledge more informed,
  Few hearts with friendship better warmed;
  With ready wit and humour broad,
  He pleased the peasant, squire, and lord;
  Until grim death, with visage queer,
  Assumed Joe's trade of Auctioneer,
  Made him the Lot to _practise_ on,
  With "going, going," and anon
  He knocked him down to "Poor Joe's gone!"

In Wimbledon churchyard is the grave of John Martin, a natural son of Don
John Emanuel, King of Portugal. He was sent to this country about the year
1712, to be out of the way of his friends, and after several changes of
circumstances, ultimately became a gardener. It will be seen from the
following epitaph that he won the esteem of his employers:--

    To the memory of John Martin, gardener, a native of Portugal, who
    cultivated here, with industry and success, the same ground under
    three masters, forty years.

        Though skilful and experienced,
        He was modest and unassuming;
        And tho' faithful to his masters,
        And with reason esteemed,
        He was kind to his fellow-servants,
        And was therefore beloved.
        His family and neighbours lamented his death,
        As he was a careful husband, a tender father,
          and an honest man.

    This character of him is given to posterity by his last master,
    willingly because deservedly, as a lasting testimony of his great
    regard for so good a servant.

        He died March 30th, 1760.     Aged 66 years.

          For public service grateful nations raise
          Proud structures, which excite to deeds of praise;
          While private services, in corners thrown,
          Howe'er deserving, never gain a stone.

          But are not lilies, which the valleys hide,
          Perfect as cedars, tho' the valley's pride?
          Let, then, the violets their fragrance breathe,
          And pines their ever-verdant branches wreathe

          Around his grave, who from their tender birth
          Upreared both dwarf and giant sons of earth,
          And tho' himself exotic, lived to see
          Trees of his raising droop as well as he.

          Those were his care, while his own bending age,
          His master propp'd and screened from winter's rage,
          Till down he gently fell, then with a tear
          He bade his sorrowing sons transport him here.

          But tho' in weakness planted, as his fruit
          Always bespoke the goodness of his root,
          The spirit quickening, he in power shall rise
          With leaf unfading under happier skies.

The next is on the Tradescants, famous gardeners and botanists at Lambeth.
In 1657 Mr. Tradescant, Junr., presented to the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford,
a remarkable cabinet of curiosities:--

  Know, stranger, ere thou pass, beneath this stone
  Lye John Tradescant, grandsire, father, son;
  The last died in his spring; the other two
  Liv'd till they had travell'd art and nature through;
  As by their choice collections may appear,
  Of what is rare, in land, in sea, in air;
  Whilst they (as Homer's Iliad in a nut)
  A world of wonders in one closet shut;
  These famous antiquarians, that had been
  Both gard'ners to the ROSE AND LILY QUEEN,
  Transplanted now themselves, sleep here; and when
  Angels shall with trumpets waken men,
  And fire shall purge the world, these hence shall rise,
  And change this garden for a paradise.

We have here an epitaph on a grocer, culled from the Rev. C. W. Bardsley's
"Memorials of St. Anne's Church," Manchester. In a note about the name of
Howard, the author says: "Poor John Howard's friends gave him an
unfortunate epitaph--one, too, that reflected unkindly upon his wife. It
may still be seen in the churchyard.--Here lyeth the body of John Howard,
who died Jan. 2, 1800, aged 84 years; fifty years a respectable grocer,
and an honest man. As it is further stated that his wife died in 1749,
fifty years before, it would seem that her husband's honesty dated from
the day of her decease. Mrs. Malaprop herself, in her happiest moments,
could not have beaten this inscription."


Some singular epitaphs are to be found over the remains of men who either
manufactured, dispensed, or loved the social glass. In the churchyard of
Newhaven, the Sussex, following may be seen on the grave of a brewer:

          To the Memory of
         THOMAS TIPPER who
   departed this life May the 14th
         1785 Aged 54 Years.

  READER, with kind regard this GRAVE survey
  Nor heedless pass where TIPPER'S ashes lay,
  Honest he was, ingenuous, blunt, and kind;
  And dared do, what few dare do, speak his mind,
  PHILOSOPHY and HISTORY well he knew,
  Was versed in PHYSICK and in Surgery too,
  The best old STINGO he both brewed and sold,
  Nor did one knavish act to get his Gold.
  He played through Life a varied comic part,
  And knew immortal HUDIBRAS by heart.
  READER, in real truth, such was the Man,
  Be better, wiser, laugh more if you can.

The next, on John Scott, a Liverpool brewer, is rather rich in puns:--

  Poor JOHN SCOTT lies buried here;
    Although he was both hale and stout,
  Death stretched him on the bitter bier.
    In another world he hops about.

On a Butler in Ollerton church-yard is the following curious epitaph:--

  Beneath the droppings of this spout,
  Here lies the body once so stout,
                              Of Francis Thompson.
  A soul this carcase once possess'd,
  Which of its virtues was caress'd,
  By all who knew the owner best.
  The Rufford records can declare,
  His actions, who for seventy year,
  Both drew and drank its potent beer;
  Fame mentions not in all that time,
  In this great Butler the least crime,
                              To stain his reputation.
  To envy's self we now appeal,
  If aught of fault she can reveal,
                              To make her declaration.
  Here rest good shade, nor hell nor vermin fear,
  Thy virtues guard thy soul, thy body good strong beer.
            He died July 6th, 1739.

We will next give a few epitaphs on publicans. Our first is from Pannal
churchyard; it is on JOSEPH THACKEREY, who died on the 26th of November,

  In the year of our Lord 1740
  I came to the Crown;
  In 1791 they laid me down.

The following is from the graveyard of Upton-on-Severn, and placed to the
memory of a publican. The lines, it will be seen, are a dexterous weaving
of the spiritual with the temporal:--

  Beneath this stone, in hope of Zion,
  Doth lie the landlord of the "Lion,"
  His son keeps on the business still,
  Resign'd unto the Heavenly will.

In 1789 passed away the landlady of the "Pig and Whistle," Greenwich, and
the following lines were inscribed to her memory:--

  Assign'd by Providence to rule a tap,
  My days pass'd gibly, till an awkward rap,
  Some way, like bankruptcy, impell'd me down.
  But up I got again and shook my gown
  In gamesome gambols, quite as brisk as ever,
  Blithe as the lark and gay as sunny weather;
  Composed with creditors, at five in pound,
  And frolick'd on till laid beneath this ground.
  The debt of Nature must, you know, be paid,
  No trust from her--God grant _extent in aid_.

On an inn-keeper in Stockbridge, the next may be seen:--

            In memory of
            JOHN BUCKETT,
    Many years landlord of the King's
      Head Inn, in this Borough,
  Who departed this life Nov. 2, 1802.
            Aged 67 years.

  And is, alas! poor Buckett gone?
  Farewell, convivial, honest John.
  Oft at the well, by fatal stroke,
  Buckets, like pitchers, must be broke.
  In this same motley shifting scene,
  How various have thy fortunes been!
  Now lifted high--now sinking low.
  To-day thy brim would overflow,
  Thy bounty then would all supply,
  To fill and drink, and leave thee dry;
  To-morrow sunk as in a well,
  Content, unseen, with truth to dwell:
  But high or low, or wet or dry,
  No rotten stave could malice spy.
  Then rise, immortal Buckett, rise,
  And claim thy station in the skies;
  'Twixt Amphora and Pisces shine,
  Still guarding Stockbridge with thy sign.

From the "Sportive Wit: the Muses' Merriment," issued in 1656, we extract
the following lines on John Taylor, "the Water Poet," who was a native of
Gloucester, and died in Phoenix Alley, London, in the 75th year of his
age. You may find him, if the worms have not devoured him, in Covent
Garden Churchyard:--

  Here lies John Taylor, without rime or reason,
  For death struck his muse in so cold a season,
  That Jack lost the use of his scullers to row:
  The chill pate rascal would not let his boat go.
  Alas, poor Jack Taylor! this 'tis to drink ale
  With nutmegs and ginger, with a taste though stale,
  It drencht thee in rimes. Hadst thou been of the pack
  With Draiton and Johnson to quaff off thy sack,
  They'd infus'd thee a genius should ne'er expire,
  And have thaw'd thy muse with elemental fire.
  Yet still, for the honour of thy sprightly wit,
  Since some of thy fancies so handsomely hit,
  The nymphs of the rivers for thy relation
  Sirnamed thee the _water-poet_ of the nation.
  Who can write more of thee let him do't for me.
  A ---- take all rimers, Jack Taylor, but thee.
      Weep not, reader, if thou canst chuse,
      Over the stone of so merry a muse.

Robert Burns wrote the following epitaph on John Dove, innkeeper,

  Here lies Johnny Pigeon:
  What was his religion?
        Whae'er desires to ken,
  To some other warl'
  Maun follow the carl,
        For here Johnny had none!
  Strong ale was ablution--
  Small beer persecution,
        A dram was _memento mori_;
  But a full flowing bowl
  Was the saving of his soul,
        And port was celestial glory.

We extract, from a collection of epitaphs, the following on a publican:--

  A jolly landlord once was I,
  And kept the Old King's Head hard by,
  Sold mead and gin, cider and beer,
  And eke all other kinds of cheer,
  Till Death my license took away,
  And put me in this house of clay:
  A house at which you all must call,
  Sooner or later, great or small.

It is stated in Mr. J. Potter Briscoe's entertaining volume,
"Nottinghamshire Facts and Fictions," that in the churchyard of Edwalton
is a gravestone to the memory of Mrs. Freland, a considerable land-owner,
who died in 1741; but who, it would appear from the inscription, was a
very free liver, for her memorial says:

  She drank good ale, strong punch and wine,
  And lived to the age of ninety-nine.

A gravestone in Darneth Churchyard, near Dartford, bears the following

  Oh, the liquor he did love, but never will no more,
  For what he lov'd did turn his foe:
  For on the 28th of January 1741, that fatal day,
  The Debt he owed he then did pay.

At Chatham, on a drunkard, good advice is given:--

  Weep not for him, the warmest tear that's shed
  Falls unavailing o'er the unconscious dead;
  Take the advice these friendly lines would give,
  Live not to drink, but only drink to live.

From Tonbridge churchyard we glean the following:--

            This stone marks the spot
            Where a notorious sot
                  Doth lie;
            Whether at rest or not
            It matters not
                  To you or I.
        Oft to the "Lion" he went to fill his horn.
        Now to the "Grave" he's gone to get it warm.

    _Beered by public subscription by his hale and stout companions, who
    deeply lament his absence._

On a gravestone in the churchyard of Eton, placed to the memory of an
innkeeper, it is stated:--

  Life's an inn; my house will shew it:
  I thought so once, but now I know it.
  Man's life is but a winter's day;
  Some only breakfast and away;
  Others to dinner stop, and are full fed;
  The oldest man but sups and then to bed:
  Large is his debt who lingers out the day;
  He who goes soonest has the least to pay.

Similar epitaphs to the foregoing may be found in many churchyards in this
country. In Micklehurst churchyard, an inscription runs thus:--

  Life is an Inn, where all men bait,
  The waiter, Time, the landlord, Fate;
  Death is the score by all men due,
  I've paid my shot--and so must you.

In the old burial ground in Castle Street, Hull, on the gravestone of a
boy, a slightly different version of the rhyme appears:--

           In memory of
     John, the Son of John and
  Ann Bywater, died 25th January,
        1815, aged 14 years.

  Life's like an Inn, where Travellers stay,
  Some only breakfast and away;
  Others to dinner stay, and are full fed;
  The oldest only sup and go to bed;
  Long is the bill who lingers out the day,
  Who goes the soonest has the least to pay.

The churchyard of Melton Mowbray furnishes another rendering of the

  This world's an Inn, and I her guest:
  I've eat and drank and took my rest
  With her awhile, and now I pay
  Her lavish bill and go my way.

The foregoing inscriptions, comparing life to a house, remind us of a
curious inscription in Folkestone churchyard:--

             In memory of
            REBECCA ROGERS,
        who died Aug. 22, 1688,
            Aged 44 years.

  A house she hath, it's made of such good fashion
  The tenant ne'er shall pay for reparation,
  Nor will her landlord ever raise the rent,
  Or turn her out of doors for non-payment;
  From chimney money, too, this call is free,
  To such a house, who would not tenant be.

In "Chronicles of the Tombs," by Thomas Joseph Pettigrew, published in
1857, it is stated respecting the foregoing epitaph: "Smoke money or
chimney money is now collected at Battle, in Sussex, each householder
paying one penny to the Lord of the Manor. It is also levied upon the
inhabitants of the New Forest, in Hants, for the right of cutting peat and
turf for fuel. And from 'Audley's Companion to the Almanac,' page 76, we
learn that 'anciently, even in England, Whitsun farthings, or smoke
farthings, were a composition for offerings made in the Whitsun week, by
every man who occupied a house with a chimney, to the cathedral of the
diocese in which he lived.' The late Mr. E. B. Price has observed, in
_Notes and Queries_, (Vol. ii. p. 379), that there is a church at
Northampton, upon which is an inscription recording that the expense of
repairing it was defrayed by a grant of chimney money for, I believe,
seven years, temp. Charles II."

In the burial-ground of St. Michael's Church, London, was interred one of
the waiters of the famous Boar's Head Tavern:--

    Here lieth the bodye of ROBERT PRESTON, late Drawer at the Boar's Head
    Tavern, Great Eastcheap, who departed this Life, March 16, Anno Domini
    1730, aged 27 years.

        Bacchus, to give the topeing world surprize,
        Produc'd one sober son, and here he lies.
        Tho' nurs'd among full Hogsheads, he defy'd
        The charm of wine and ev'ry vice beside.
        O Reader, if to Justice thou'rt inclined,
        Keep Honest Preston daily in thy Mind.
        He drew good wine, took care to fill his pots,
        Had sundry virtues that outweighed his fauts, (_sic_)
        You that on Bacchus have the like dependence,
        Pray copy Bob, in measure and attendance.

The next example from Abesford, on an exciseman, is entitled to a place
among Bacchanalian epitaphs:--

  No supervisor's check he fears--
    Now no commissioner obeys;
  He's free from cares, entreaties, tears,
    And all the heavenly oil surveys.

In the churchyard of North Wingfield, Derbyshire, a gravestone bears the
following inscription:--

    In Memory of THOMAS, son of JOHN and MARY CLAY, who departed this life
    December 16th 1724, in the 40th year of his age.

        What though no mournful kindred stand
          Around the solemn bier,
        No parents wring the trembling hand,
          Or drop the silent tear.

        No costly oak adorned with art
          My weary limbs inclose;
        No friends impart a winding-sheet
          To deck my last repose.

The cause of the foregoing curious epitaph is thus explained. Thomas Clay
was a man of intemperate habits, and at the time of his death was indebted
to the village innkeeper, named Adlington, to the amount of twenty pounds.
The publican resolved to seize the body; but the parents of the deceased
carefully kept the door locked until the day appointed for the funeral. As
soon as the door was opened, Adlington rushed into the house, seized the
corpse, and placed it on a form in the open street in front of the
residence of the parents of the departed. Clay's friends refused to
discharge the publican's account. After the body had been exposed for
several days, Adlington committed it to the ground in a _bacon chest_.

We conclude this class of epitaphs with the following from Winchester

                              In memory of
                            Thomas Thetcher,
            a Grenadier in the North Regiment of Hants Militia,
            who died of a violent fever contracted by drinking small
                             beer when hot
                   the 12th of May, 1764, aged 26 years.
            In grateful remembrance of whose universal goodwill
      towards his comrades this stone is placed here at their expense, as
              a small testimony of their regard and concern.

            Here sleeps in peace a Hampshire Grenadier,
            Who caught his death by drinking cold small beer;
            Soldiers, be wise from his untimely fall,
            And when ye're hot drink strong, or none at all.

    This memorial, being decayed, was restored by the officers of the
    garrison, A.D. 1781:--

        An honest soldier never is forgot,
        Whether he die by musket or by pot.

    This stone was placed by the North Hants Militia, when disembodied at
    Winchester, on 26th April, 1802, in consequence of the original stone
    being destroyed.


We give a few of the many curious epitaphs placed to the memory of
soldiers and seafaring men. Our initial epitaph is taken from Longnor
churchyard, Staffordshire, and it tells the story of an extended and
eventful life:--

    In memory of WILLIAM BILLINGE, who was Born in a Corn Field at
    Fawfield head, in this Parish, in the year 1679. At the age of 23
    years he enlisted into His Majesty's service under Sir George Rooke,
    and was at the taking of the Fortress of Gibralter in 1704. He
    afterwards served under the Duke of Marlborough at Ramillies, fought
    on the 23rd of May, 1706, where he was wounded by a musket-shot in his
    thigh. Afterwards returned to his native country, and with manly
    courage defended his sovereign's rights in the Rebellion in 1715 and
    1745. He died within the space of 150 yards of where he was born, and
    was interred here the 30th January, 1791, aged 112 years.

        Billeted by death, I quartered here remain,
        And when the trumpet sounds I'll rise and march again.

On a Chelsea Hospital veteran, we have the following interesting

        Here lies WILLIAM HISELAND,
        A Veteran, if ever Soldier was,
        Who merited well a Pension,
          If long service be a merit,
  Having served upwards of the days of Man.
      Ancient, but not superannuated;
        Engaged in a Series of Wars,
          Civil as well as Foreign,
      Yet maimed or worn out by neither.
    His complexion was Fresh and Florid;
        His Health Hale and Hearty;
        His memory Exact and Ready.
                In Stature
        He exceeded the Military Size;
                In Strength
        He surpassed the Prime of Youth;
  What rendered his age still more Patriarchal,
        When above a Hundred Years old
          He took unto him a Wife!
        Read! fellow Soldiers, and reflect
        That there is a Spiritual Warfare,
        As well as a Warfare _Temporal_.
          Born the 1st August, 1620,
        Died the 17th of February, 1732,
        Aged One Hundred and Twelve.

At Bremhill, Wiltshire, the following lines are placed to the memory of a
soldier who reached the advanced age of 92 years:--

  A poor old soldier shall not lie unknown,
  Without a verse and this recording stone.
  'Twas his, in youth, o'er distant lands to stray,
  Danger and death companions of his way.
  Here, in his native village, stealing age
  Closed the lone evening of his pilgrimage.
  Speak of the past--of names of high renown,
  Or brave commanders long to dust gone down,
  His look with instant animation glow'd,
  Tho' ninety winters on his head had snow'd.
  His country, while he lived, a boon supplied,
  And Faith her shield held o'er him when he died.

A correspondent states that in Battersea Church there is a handsome
monument to Sir EDWARD WYNTER, a Captain in the East India Company's
service in the reign of Charles II., which records that in India, where he
had passed many years of his life, he was

  A rare example, and unknown to most,
  Where wealth is gain'd, and conscience is not lost;
  Nor less in martial honour was his name,
  Witness his actions of immortal fame.
  Alone, unharm'd, a tiger he opprest,
  And crush'd to death the monster of a beast.
  Thrice twenty mounted Moors he overthrew,
  Singly, on foot, some wounded, some he slew,
  Dispersed the rest,--what more could Samson do?
  True to his friends, a terror to his foes,
  Here now in peace his honour'd bones repose.

Below, in bas-relief, he is represented struggling with the tiger, both
the combatants appearing in the attitude of wrestlers. He is also
depicted in the performance of the yet more wonderful achievement, the
discomfiture of the "thrice twenty mounted Moors," who are all flying
before him.

In Yarmouth churchyard, a monumental inscription tells a painful story as

    To the memory of GEORGE GRIFFITHS, of the Shropshire Militia, who died
    Feb 26th, 1807, in consequence of a blow received in a quarrel with
    his comrade.

        Time flies away as nature on its wing,
        I in a battle died (not for my King).
        Words with my brother soldier did take place,
        Which shameful is, and always brings disgrace.
        Think not the worse of him who doth remain,
        For he as well as I might have been slain.

We have also from Yarmouth the next example:--

    To the memory of ISAAC SMITH, who died March 24th, 1808, and SAMUEL
    BODGER, who died April 2nd, 1808, both of the Cambridgeshire Militia.

        The tyrant Death did early us arrest,
        And all the magazines of life possest:
        No more the blood its circling course did run,
        But in the veins like icicles it hung;
        No more the hearts, now void of quickening heat,
        The tuneful march of vital motion beat;
        Stiffness did into every sinew climb,
        And a short death crept cold through every limb.

The next example is from Bury St. Edmunds:--

  Late Serjeant-Major of the Grenadier Guards,
      Died Nov. 13, 1834, aged 53 years.

  A husband, father, comrade, friend sincere,
  A British soldier brave lies buried here.
  In Spain and Flushing, and at Waterloo,
  He fought to guard our country from the foe;
  His comrades, Britons, who survive him, say
  He acted nobly on that glorious day.

Edward Parr died in 1811, at the age of 38 years, and was buried at North
Scarle churchyard. His epitaph states:--

  A soldier once I was, as you may see,
  My King and Country claim no more from me.
  In battle I receiv'd a dreadful ball
  Severe the blow, and yet I did not fall.
  When God commands, we all must die it's true
  Farewell, dear Wife, Relations all, adieu.

A British soldier lies buried under the shadow of the fine old Minster of
Beverley. He died in 1855, and his epitaph states:--

  A soldier lieth beneath the sod,
  Who many a field of battle trod:
  When glory call'd, his breast he bar'd,
  And toil and want, and danger shar'd.
  Like him through all thy duties go;
  Waste not thy strength in useless woe,
  Heave thou no sigh and shed no tear,
  A British soldier slumbers here.

The stirring lives of many female soldiers have furnished facts for
several important historical works, and rich materials for the writers of
romance. We give an illustration of the stone erected by public
subscription in Brighton churchyard over the remains of a notable female
warrior, named Phoebe Hessel. The inscription tells the story of her long
and eventful career. The closing years of her life were cheered by the
liberality of George IV. During a visit to Brighton, when he was Prince
Regent, he met old Phoebe, and was greatly interested in her history. He
ascertained that she was supported by a few benevolent townsmen, and the
kind-hearted Prince questioned her respecting the amount that would be
required to enable her to pass the remainder of her days in comfort.
"Half-a-guinea a week" said Phoebe Hessel, "will make me as happy as a
princess." That amount by order of her royal benefactor was paid to her
until the day of her death. She told capital stories, had an excellent
memory, and was in every respect most agreeable company. Her faculties
remained unimpared to within a few hours of her death. On September 22,
1821, she was visited by a person of some literary taste, and the
following particulars were obtained respecting her life. The writer

"I have seen to-day an extraordinary character in the person of Phoebe
Hessel, a poor woman stated to be 106 years of age. It appears that she
was born in March 1715, and at fifteen formed a strong attachment to
Samuel Golding, a private in the regiment called Kirk's Lambs, which was
ordered to the West Indies. She determined to follow her lover, enlisted
into the 5th regiment of foot, commanded by General Pearce, and embarked
after him. She served there five years without discovering herself to
anyone. At length they were ordered to Gibraltar. She was likewise at
Montserrat, and would have been in action, but her regiment did not reach
the place till the battle was decided. Her lover was wounded at Gibraltar
and sent to Plymouth; she then waited on the General's lady at Gibraltar,
disclosed her sex, told her story, and was immediately sent home. On her
arrival, Phoebe went to Samuel Golding in the hospital, nursed him there,
and when he came out, married and lived with him for twenty years; he had
a pension from Chelsea. After Golding's death, she married Hessel, has had
many children, and has been many years a widow. Her eldest son was a
sailor with Admiral Norris: he afterwards went to the East Indies, and, if
he is now alive, must be nearly seventy years of age. The rest of the
family are dead. At an advanced age, she earned a scanty livelihood at
Brighton by selling apples and gingerbread on the Marine Parade.


"I saw this woman to-day in her bed, to which she is confined from having
lost the use of her limbs. She has even now, old and withered as she is, a
characteristic countenance, and, I should judge from her present
appearance, must have had a fine, though perhaps a masculine style of head
when young. I have seen many a woman at the age of sixty or seventy look
older than she does under the load of 108 years of human life. Her cheeks
are round and seem firm, though ploughed with many a small wrinkle. Her
eyes, though their sight is gone, are large and well formed. As soon as it
was announced that somebody had come to see her, she broke the silence of
her solitary thoughts and spoke. She began in a complaining tone, as if
the remains of a strong and restless spirit were impatient of the prison
of a decaying and weak body. 'Other people die, and I cannot,' she said.
Upon exciting her recollection of former days, her energy seemed roused,
and she spoke with emphasis. Her voice was strong for an old person; and I
could easily believe her when, upon being asked if her sex was not in
danger of being detected by her voice, she replied that she always had a
strong and manly voice. She appeared to take a pride in having kept her
secret, declaring that she told it to no man, woman, or child, during the
time she was in the army; 'for you know, Sir, a drunken man and a child
always tell the truth. But,' said she, 'I told my secret to the ground. I
dug a hole that would hold a gallon, and whispered it there.' While I was
with her the flies annoyed her extremely: she drove them away with a fan,
and said they seemed to smell her out as one that was going to the grave.
She showed me a wound she had received in her elbow by a bayonet. She
lamented the error of her former ways, but excused it by saying, 'When you
are at Rome, you must do as Rome does.' When she could not distinctly hear
what was said, she raised herself in the bed and thrust her head forward
with impatient energy. She said when the king saw her, he called her 'a
jolly old fellow.' Though blind, she could discern a glimmering light, and
I was told would frequently state the time of day by the effect of light."

The next is copied from a time-worn stone in Weem churchyard, near
Aberfeldy, Perthshire:--

    In memory of Captain James Carmichael, of Bockland's Regiment.--Died
    25th Nov. 1758:

        Where now, O Son of Mars, is Honour's aim?
        What once thou wast or wished, no more's thy claim.
        Thy tomb, Carmichael, tells thy Honour's Roll,
        And man is born, as thee, to be forgot.
        But virtue lives to glaze thy honours o'er,
        And Heaven will smile when brittle stone's no more.

The following is inscribed on a gravestone in Fort William Cemetery:--

          To the Memory of
      Late of the 42nd Regiment,
  Who died on the xiii of December,
      Aged eighty-three years,
       A True Highlander,
         A Sincere Friend,
     And the best Deerstalker
           Of his day.

A gravestone in Barwick-in-Elmet, Yorkshire, states:--

  Here lies, retired from busy scenes,
  A first lieutenant of Marines,
  Who lately lived in gay content
  On board the brave ship "Diligent."
  Now stripp'd of all his warlike show,
  And laid in box of elm below,
  Confined in earth in narrow borders,
  He rises not till further orders.

The next is from Dartmouth Churchyard:--

    THOMAS GOLDSMITH, who died 1714.

    He commanded the "Snap Dragon," as Privateer belonging to this port,
    in the reign of Queen Anne, in which vessel he turned pirate, and
    amass'd much riches.

        Men that are virtuous serve the Lord;
        And the Devil's by his friends ador'd;
        And as they merit get a place
        Amidst the bless'd or hellish race;
        Pray then, ye learned clergy show
        Where can this brute, Tom Goldsmith, go?
        Whose life was one continued evil,
        Striving to cheat God, Man, and Devil.

We find the following at Woodbridge on JOSEPH SPALDING, Master and
Mariner, who departed this life Sept. 2nd, 1796, aged 55:--

  Embark'd in life's tempestuous sea, we steer
    'Midst threatening billows, rocks and shoals;
  But Christ by faith, dispels each wavering fear,
    And safe secures the anchor of our souls.

In Selby churchyard, the following is on JOHN EDMONDS, master mariner, who
died 5th Aug. 1767:--

  Tho' Boreas, with his blustering blasts
    Has tost me to and fro
  Yet by the handiwork of God,
    I'm here enclosed below.
  And in this silent bay I lie
    With many of our fleet,
  Until the day that I set sail
    My Saviour Christ to meet.

Another, on the south side of Selby churchyard:--

  The boisterous main I've travers'd o'er,
  New seas and lands explored,
  But now at last, I'm anchor'd fast,
  In peace and silence moor'd.

In the churchyard, Selby, near the north porch, in memory of WILLIAM
WHITTAKER, mariner, who died 22nd Oct., 1797, we read--

  Oft time in danger have I been
    Upon the raging main,
  But here in harbour safe at rest
    Free from all human pain.

South-hill Church, Bedfordshire, contains a plain monument to the memory
of Admiral BYNG, who was shot at Portsmouth:--

        To the perpetual disgrace of public justice,
  The Honourable JOHN BYNG, Vice Admiral of the Blue,
      fell a martyr to political persecution, March 14,
                      in the year 1757;
  when bravery and loyalty were insufficent securities for
          the life and honour of a naval officer.

The following epitaph, inscribed on a stone in Putney Churchyard, is
nearly obliterated:--

             Lieut ALEX. DAVIDSON
        Royal Navy has Caus'd this Stone
          to be Erected to the Memory of
          HARRIOT his dearly beloved Wife
        who departed this Life Jan 24 1808
                Aged 38 Years.

  I have crossed this Earth's Equator Just sixteen times
  And in my Country's cause have brav'd far distant climes
  In HOWE'S TRAFALGAR and several Victories more
  Firm and unmov'd I heard the Fatal Cannons roar
  Trampling in human blood I felt not any fear
  Nor for my Slaughter'd gallant Messmates shed A tear
  But of A dear Wife by Death unhappily beguil'd
  Even the British Sailor must become A child
  Yet when from this Earth God shall my soul unfetter
  I hope we'll meet in Another World and a better.

Some time ago a correspondent to the _Spectator_ stated: "As you are not
one to despise 'unconsidered trifles' when they have merit, perhaps you
will find room for the following epitaph, on a Deal Boatman, which I
copied the other day from a tombstone in a churchyard in that town:--

      In Memory of GEORGE PHILLPOT,
  Who died March 22nd, 1850, aged 74 years.
      Full many a life he saved
        With his undaunted crew;
      _He put his trust in Providence_,

A hero; his heroic life and deeds, and the philosophy of religion, perfect
both in theory and practice, which inspired them, all described in four
lines of graphic and spirited verse! Would not 'rare Ben' himself have
acknowledged this a good specimen of 'what verse can say in a little?'
Whoever wrote it was a poet 'with the name.'"

"There is another in the same churchyard, which though weak after the
above, and indeed not uncommon, I fancy, in seaside towns, is at least
sufficiently quaint:--

    In Memory of JAMES EPPS BUTTRESS, who, in rendering assistance to the
    French Schooner, "Vesuvienne," was drowned, December 27th, 1852, aged

        Though Boreas' blast and Neptune's wave
          Did toss me to and fro,
        In spite of both, by God's decree,
          I harbour here below;
        And here I do at anchor ride
          With many of our fleet,
        Yet once again I must set sail,
          Our Admiral, Christ, to meet.

    Also two sons, who died in infancy, &c.

The 'human race' typified by '_our fleet_,' excites vague reminiscences of
Goethe and Carlyle, and 'our Admiral Christ' seems not remotely associated
in sentiment with the 'We fight that fight for our fair father Christ,'
and 'The King will follow Christ and we the King,' of our grand poet. So
do the highest and the lowest meet. But the heartiness, the vitality, nay,
almost vivacity, of some of these underground tenantry is surprising.
There is more life in some of our dead folk than in many a living crowd."

We copied the following five epitaphs from Hessle-road cemetery, Hull:--

                 WILLIAM EASTON,
               Who was lost at sea,
           In the fishing smack Martha,
           In the gale of January, 1865.
                 Aged 30 years.

  When through the torn sail the wild tempest is streaming;
  When o'er the dark wave the red lightning is gleaming,
  No hope lends a ray the poor fisher to cherish.
  Oh hear, kind Jesus; save, Lord, or we perish!

        In affectionate remembrance of
             THOMAS CRACKLES
      Humber Pilot, who was drowned off
          The Lincolnshire Coast,
      During the gale, October 19th, 1869.
             Aged 24 years.

  How swift the torrent rolls
  That hastens to the sea;
  How strong the tide that bears our souls
              On to Eternity.

      In affectionate remembrance of
             DAVID COLLISON,
  Who was drowned in the "Spirit of the Age,"
      Off Scarborough, Jan. 6th, 1864.
              Aged 36 years.

  I cannot bend over his grave,
    He sleeps in the secret sea;
  And not one gentle whisp'red wave
    Can tell that place to me.

  Although unseen by human eyes,
    And mortal know'd it not;
  Yet Christ knows where his body lies,
    And angels guard the spot.

      ROBERT PICKERING, who was
  Drowned from the smack "Satisfaction,"
    On the Dutch coast, May 7, 1869.
            Aged 18 years.

  The waters flowed on every side,
    No chance was there to save;
  At last compelled, he bowed and died,
    And found a watery grave.

  In affectionate remembrance of
    53 years Mariner of Hull,
    Who died October 5th, 1864.
          Aged 70 years.

  Long time I ploughed the ocean wide,
    A life of toil I spent;
  But now in harbour safe arrived
    From care and discontent.

  My anchor's cast, my sails are furled,
    And now I am at rest.
  Of all the parts throughout the world,
    Sailors, this is the best.

Our next example is copied from a stone which is so fast decaying that
already some parts of the inscription are obliterated:--

           to the memory
   . . . . .r of the Sloop Janatt,
  . . . . . . . who was unfortunately
    drowned off Flamborough Head,
        17th April, 1823.
          Aged 41 years.

  This stone was Erected by
      his Countrymen in
  remembrance of his Death.

  I have left the troubled ocean,
  And now laid down to sleep,
  In hopes I shall set sail
  Our Saviour Christ to meet.

A gravestone in Horncastle churchyard, Lincolnshire, has this epitaph:--

  My helm was gone,
  My sails were rent,
  My mast went by the board,
  My hull it struck upon a rock,
  Receive my soul, O Lord!

On a sailor's gravestone in the burial-ground at Hamilton, we are told:--

  The seas he ploughed for twenty years,
  Without the smallest dread or fears:
  And all that time was never known
  To strike upon a bank or stone.


Puns in epitaphs have been very common, and may be found in Greek and
Latin, and still more plentifully in our English compositions. In the
French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, and other languages, examples
may also be found. Empedrocles wrote an epitaph containing the
paronomasia, or pun, on a physician named Pausanias, and it has by
Merivale been happily translated:--

  Pausanias--not so nam'd without a cause,
  As one who oft has giv'n to pain a pause,
  Blest son of Æsculapius, good and wise,
  Here, in his native Gela, buried lies;
  Who many a wretch once rescu'd by his charms
  From dark Persephone's constraining arms.

In Holy Trinity Church, Hull, is an example of a punning epitaph. It is on
a slab in the floor of the north aisle of the nave, to the memory of "The
Worshipful Joseph Field, twice Mayor of this town, and Merchant
Adventurer." He died in 1627, aged 63 years:--

  Here is a Field sown, that at length must sprout,
  And 'gainst the ripening harvest's time break out,
  When to that Husband it a crop shall yield
  Who first did dress and till this new-sown Field;
  Yet ere this Field you see this crop can give,
  The seed first dies, that it again may live.
            _Sit Deus amicus,
            Sanctis, vel in Sepulchris spes est._

On Bishop Theophilus Field, in Hereford Cathedral, ob. 1636, is another

  The Sun that light unto three churches gave
  Is set; this Field is buried in a grave.
  This Sun shall rise, this Field renew his flowers,
  This sweetness breathe for ages, not for hours.

He was successively Bishop of Llandaff, St. David's, and Hereford.

The following rather singular epitaph, with a play upon the name, occurs
in the chancel of Checkley Church, Staffordshire:--

    To the Memory of the Reverend JAMES WHITEHALL, Rector of this place
    twenty and five years, who departed this life the second daie of
    March, 1644.

        White was his name, and whiter than this stone.
        In hope of joyfole resurrection
        Here lies that orthodox, that grave divine,
        In wisdom trve, vertve did soe clearly shine;
        One that could live and die as he hath done
        Suffer'd not death but a translation.
        Bvt ovt of charitie I'll speake no more,
        Lest his friends pine with sighs, with teares the poor.

From Hornsea Church we have the epitaph of Will Day, gentleman; he lived
34 years, died May 22nd, 1616:--

  If that man's life be likened to a day,
  One here interr'd in youth did lose a day,
  By death, and yet no loss to him at all,
  For he a threefold day gain'd by his fall;
  One day of rest is bliss celestial,
  Two days on earth by gifts terrestryall--
  Three pounds at Christmas, three at Easter Day,
  Given to the poure until the world's last day,
  This was no cause to heaven; but, consequent,
  Who thither will, must tread the steps he went.
  For why? Faith, Hope, and Christian Charity,
  Perfect the house framed for eternity.

On the east wall of the Chancel of Kettlethorpe Church, co. Lincoln, is a
tablet to the memory of "Johannes Becke, quondam Rector istius ecclesiæ,"
who died 1597, with the following lines in old English characters:--

  I am a BECKE, or river as you know,
  And wat'red here ye church, ye schole, ye pore,
  While God did make my springes here for to flow:
  But now my fountain stopt, it runs no more;
  From Church and schole mi life ys now bereft,
  But no ye pore four poundes I yearly left.

We may add that the stream of his charity still flows, and is yearly
distributed amongst the poor of Kettlethorpe.

Bishop Sanderson, in his "Survey of Lincoln Cathedral," gives the
following epitaph of Dr. William Cole, Dean of Lincoln, who died in 1600.
The upper part of the stone, with Dr. Cole's arms, is, or was lately, in
the Cathedral, but the epitaph has been lost:--

  Reader, behold the pious pattern here
  Of true devotion and of holy fear.
  He sought God's glory and the churches good.
  Idle idol worship he withstood.
  Yet dyed in peace, whose body here doth lie
  In expectation of eternity.
  And when the latter trump of heaven shall blow
  Cole, now rak'd up in ashes, then shall glow.

Here is another from Lincoln Cathedral, on Dr. Otwell Hill:--

  'Tis OTWELL HILL, a holy Hill,
    And truly, sooth to say,
  Upon this Hill be praised still
    The Lord both night and day.
  Upon this Hill, this HILL did cry
    Aloud the scripture letter,
  And strove your wicked villains by
    Good conduct to make better.
  And now this HILL, tho' under stones,
    Has the Lord's Hill to lie on;
  For Lincoln Hill has got his bones,
    His soul the Hill of Sion.

The _Guardian_, for 3rd Dec., 1873, gives the following epitaph as being
in Lillington Church, Dorset, on the grave of a man named Cole, who died
in 1669:--

  Reader, you have within this grave
  A Cole rak'd up in dust.
  His courteous Fate saw it was Late,
  And that to Bed he must.
  Soe all was swept up to be Kept
  Alive until the day
  The Trump shall blow it up and shew
  The Cole but sleeping lay.
  Then do not doubt the Coles not out
  Though it in ashes lyes,
  That little sparke now in the Darke
  Will like the Phoenyx rise.

Our next example was inscribed in Peterborough Cathedral, to the memory of
Sir Richard Worme, ob. 1589:--

  Does Worm eat Worme? Knight Worme this truth confirms,
  For here, with worms, lies Worme, a dish for worms.
  Does worm eat Worme? sure Worme will this deny,
  For Worme with worms, a dish for worms don't lie.
  'Tis so, and 'tis not so, for free from worms
  'Tis certain Worme is blest without his worms.

On a person named Cave, at Barrow-on-Soar, Leicestershire, we have the
following epitaph:

  Here, in this Grave, there lies a Cave.
    We call a Cave a Grave:
  If Cave be Grave, and Grave be Cave,
    Then, reader, judge, I crave,
  Whether doth Cave here lie in Grave
    Or Grave here lie in Cave:
  If Grave in Cave here buried lie,
  Then Grave, where is thy victory?
  Go reader, and report, here lies a Cave,
  Who conquers Death, and buries his own Grave.

In Bletchley, ob. 1615, on Mrs. Rose Sparke:--

        Sixty-eight years a fragrant Rose she lasted,
        Noe vile reproach her virtues ever blasted;
        Her autume past expects a glorious springe,
        A second better life more flourishing.

    Hearken unto me, ye holy children, and bud forth as a Rose.--Eccles.
    XXXIX., 13.

From several punning epitaphs on the name of Rose we give one more
specimen. It is from Tawton Church, ob. 1652, on Rose Dart:--

  A Rose springing Branch no sooner bloom'd,
  By Death's impartial Dart lyes here entombed.
  Tho' wither'd be the Bud, the stock relyes
  On Christ, both sure by Faith and Hope to rise.

In Barnstaple Church, ob. 1627, on Grace Medford, is an epitaph as

  Scarce seven years old this Grace in glory ends,
  Nature condemns, but Grace the change commends;
  For Gracious children, tho' they die at seven,
  Are heirs-apparent to the Court of Heaven.
  Then grudge not nature at so short a Race;
  Tho' short, yet sweet, for surely 'twas God's Grace.

On a punster the following was written:--

  Beneath the gravel and these stones,
  Lies poor JACK TIFFEY'S skin and bones;
  His flesh I oft have heard him say,
  He hoped in time would make good hay;
  Quoth I, "How can that come to pass?"
  And he replied, "All flesh is grass!"


A few epitaphs relating to music and the drama now claim our attention.
Our first example is to be found in the cathedral at Norwich:--

  Here WILLIAM INGLOTT, organist, doth rest,
  Whose art in musick this Cathedral blest;
  For descant most, for voluntary all,
  He past on organ, song, and virginall.
  He left this life at age of sixty-seven,
  And now 'mongst angels all sings St. in Heaven;
  His fame flies far, his name shall never die,
  See, art and age here crown his memorie.
        _Non digitis, Inglotte, tuis terrestria tangis,
        Tangis nunc digitis organa celsa poli._
                     Anno Dom. 1621.
  Buried the last day               This erected the 15th
  of December, 1621.                day of June, 1622.

In Wakefield parish church a tablet bears an inscription as follows:--

                 In memory of
               HENRY CLEMETSHAW,
         upwards of fifty years organist
            of this church, who died
           May 7, 1821, aged 68 years.

  Now, like an organ, robb'd of pipes and breath,
  Its keys and stops are useless made by death,
  Tho' mute and motionless in ruins laid;
  Yet when re-built by more than mortal aid,
  This instrument, new voiced, and tuned, shall raise,
  To God, its builder, hymns of endless praise.

We copy the following from a monument in Holy Trinity Church, Hull:--

                 In memory of
                GEORGE LAMBERT,
         late Organist of this Church,
     which office he held upwards of 40 years,
        performing its duties with ability
          and assiduity rarely exceeded,
         affording delight to the lovers
               of Sacred Harmony,
             This Tablet is erected
       by his Musical and private Friends,
       aided by the brothers of the Humber
  and Minerva Lodges of Free Masons of this Town
      (being a member of the latter Lodge),
        That they might place on record
        the high sense they entertained
      of his personal and professional merit.
      He died Feb. 19th, 1838, aged 70 years,
       And his Remains were interred at the
      Parish Church of St. John in Beverley.

      Tho' like an Organ now in ruins laid,
      Its stops disorder'd and its frame decay'd,
      This instrument ere long new tun'd shall raise
      To God, its Builder, notes of endless praise.

From a churchyard in Wales we obtain the following curious epitaph on an
organ blower:--

  Under this stone lies MEREDITH MORGAN,
  Who blew the bellows of our church organ.
  Tobacco he hated, to smoke most unwilling,
  Yet never so pleased as when _pipes_ he was filling.
  No reflection on him for rude speech could be cast,
  Though he gave our old organ many a blast!
  No puffer was he, though a capital blower;
  He could blow double G, and now lies a note lower.

Our next epitaph records the death of a fiddler, who appears to have been
so much attached to his wife that upon the day of her death he, too,
yielded to the grim tyrant. Of this pair, buried in Flixton churchyard, it
may be truly said: 'In life united, and in death not parted.' The
inscription is as follows:--

    To the Memory of JOHN BOOTH, of Flixton, who died 16th March, 1778,
    aged 43 years; on the same day and within a few hours of the death of
    his wife HANNAH, who was buried with him in the same grave, leaving
    seven children behind them.

        Reader, have patience, for a Moment Stay,
          Nor grudge the Tribute of a friendly tear,
        For John, who once made all our Village gay,
          Has taken up his Clay-cold Lodging here.

        Suspended now his fiddle lies asleep,
          That once with Musick us'd to charm the Ear.
        Not for his Hannah long reserv'd to weep,
          John yields to Fate with his companion dear.

        So tenderly he loved his dearer part,
          His Fondness could not bear a stay behind;
        And Death through Kindness seem'd to throw the dart
          To ease his sorrow, as he knew his mind.

        In cheerful Labours all their Time they spent,
          Their happy Lives in Length of Days acquir'd;
        But Hand in Hand to Nature's God they went,
          And just lay down to sleep when they were tir'd.

        The Relicks of this faithful, honest Pair
          One little Space of Mother Earth contains.
        Let Earth protect them with a Mother's Care,
          And Constant Verdure grace her for her pains.

        The Pledges of their tender loves remain,
          For seven fine children bless'd their nuptial State.
        Behold them, neighbours! nor behold in vain,
          But heal their Sorrows and their lost Estate.

In the Old Cemetery, Newport, Monmouthshire, on a Scotch Piper, the
following appears:--

  To the memory of Mr. JOHN MACBETH, late piper to His Grace
  the Duke of Sutherland, and a native of the Highlands of Scotland:
                Died April 24th, 1852, Aged 46 years.

      Far from his native land, beneath this stone,
      Lies JOHN MACBETH, in prime of manhood gone;
      A kinder husband never yet did breathe,
      A firmer friend ne'er trod on Albyn's heath;
      His selfish aims were all in heart and hand,
      To be an honour to his native land,
      As real Scotchmen wish to fall or stand.
      A handsome _Gael_ he was, of splendid form,
      Fit for a siege, or for the Northern Storm.
      Sir Walter Scott remarked at Inverness,
      "How well becomes Macbeth the Highland dress!"
      His mind was stored with ancient Highland lore;
      Knew Ossian's songs, and many bards of yore;
      But music was his chief, and soul's delight.
      And oft he played, with Amphion's skill and might,
      His Highland pipe, before our Gracious Queen!
      'Mong Ladies gay, and Princesses serene!
      His magic chanter's strains pour'd o'er their hearts,
      With thrilling rapture soft as Cupid's darts!
      Like Shakespeare's witches, scarce they drew the breath,
      But wished, like them, to say, "All hail, Macbeth!"
      The Queen, well pleased, gave him by high command,
      A splendid present from her Royal hand!
      But nothing aye could make him vain or proud,
      He felt alike at Court or in a crowd;
      With high and low his nature was to please,
      Frank with the Peasant, with the Prince at ease.
      Beloved by thousands till his race was run,
      Macbeth had ne'er a foe beneath the sun;
      And now he plays among the Heavenly bands,
      A diamond chanter never made with hands.

In the church of Ashover, Derbyshire, a tablet contains this

         To the Memory of
            DAVID WALL,
  whose superior performance on the
      bassoon endeared him to an
    extensive musical acquaintance.
     His social life closed on the
   4th Dec., 1796, in his 57th year.

The next is copied from a gravestone in Stoney Middleton churchyard:--

    In memory of GEORGE, the son of GEORGE and MARGARET SWIFT, of Stoney
    Middleton, who departed this life August the 21st, 1759, in the 20th
    year of his age.

    We the Quoir of Singers of this Church have erected this stone.

      He's gone from us, in more seraphick lays
      In Heaven to chant the Great Jehovah's praise;
      Again to join him in those courts above,
      Let's here exalt God's name with mutual love.

The following was written in memory of Madame Malibran, who died September
23rd, 1836:--

  "The beautiful is vanished, and returns not."

  'Twas but as yesterday, a mighty throng,
    Whose hearts, as one man's heart, thy power could bow,
  Amid loud shoutings hailed thee queen of song,
    And twined sweet summer flowers around thy brow;
  And those loud shouts have scarcely died away,
    And those young flowers but half forgot thy bloom,
  When thy fair crown is changed for one of clay--
    Thy boundless empire for a narrow tomb!
  Sweet minstrel of the heart, we list in vain
    For music now; THY melody is o'er;
  _Fidelio_ hath ceased o'er hearts to reign,
    _Somnambula_ hath slept to wake no more!
  Farewell! thy sun of life too soon hath set,
    But memory shall reflect its brightness yet.

Garrick's epitaph in Westminster Abbey, reads:--

  To paint fair Nature by divine command,
  Her magic pencil in his glowing hand,
  A SHAKESPEARE rose; then, to expand his fame
  Wide o'er the breathing world, a GARRICK came:
  Tho' sunk in death, the forms the poet drew
  The actor's genius bade them breathe anew;
  Tho', like the bard himself, in night they lay,
  Immortal GARRICK call'd them back to day;
  And till eternity, with power sublime,
  Shall mark the mortal hour of hoary time,
  SHAKESPEARE and GARRICK, like twin stars shall shine,
  And earth irradiate with beams divine.

A monument placed in Westminster to the memory of Mrs. Pritchard states:--

    This Tablet is here placed by a voluntary subscription of those who
    admired and esteemed her. She retired from the stage, of which she had
    long been the ornament, in the month of April, 1768: and died at Bath
    in the month of August following, in the 57th year of her age.

        Her comic vein had every charm to please,
        'Twas nature's dictates breath'd with nature's ease;
        Ev'n when her powers sustain'd the tragic load,
        Full, clear, and just, the harmonious accents flow'd,
        And the big passions of her feeling heart
        Burst freely forth, and show'd the mimic art.
        Oft, on the scene, with colours not her own,
        She painted vice, and taught us what to shun;
        One virtuous tract her real life pursu'd,
        That nobler part was uniformly good;
        Each duty there to such perfection wrought,
        That, if the precepts fail'd, the example taught.

On a comedian named John Hippisley, interred in the churchyard of Clifton,
Gloucestershire, we have the following:--

  When the Stage heard that death had struck her John,
  Gay Comedy her Sables first put on;
  Laughter lamented that her Fav'rite died,
  And Mirth herself, ('tis strange) laid down and cry'd.
  Wit droop'd his head, e'en Humour seem'd to mourn,
  And solemnly sat pensive o'er his urn.

Garrick's epitaph to the memory of James Quin, in Bath Cathedral, is very

  That tongue, which set the table in a roar,
  And charm'd the public ear, is heard no more;
  Closed are those eyes, the harbingers of wit,
  Which spoke, before the tongue, what Shakespeare writ;
  Cold are those hands, which, living, were stretch'd forth,
  At friendship's call, to succour modest worth.
  Here is JAMES QUIN! Deign, reader to be taught,
  Whate'er thy strength of body, force of thought,
  In Nature's happiest mould however cast,
  "To this complexion thou must come at last."

We next give an actor's epitaph on an artist. In Chiswick churchyard is
Garrick's epitaph on William Hogarth, (died Oct. 29, 1764, aged 67 years)
as follows:--

  Farewell, great painter of mankind,
    Who reach'd the noblest point of art,
  Whose pictured morals charm the mind,
    And thro' the eye correct the heart.

  If genius fire thee, reader, stay;
    If nature touch thee, drop a tear;
  If neither move thee, turn away,
    For HOGARTH'S honour'd dust lies here.

  No marble pomp, or monumental praise,
  My tomb, this dial--epitaph, these lays;
  Pride and low mouldering clay but ill agree;
  Death levels me to beggars--Kings to me.

  Alive, instruction was my work each day;
  Dead, I persist instruction to convey;
  Here, reader, mark, perhaps now in thy prime,
  The stealthy steps of _never-standing Time_:
  Thou'lt be what I am--catch the present hour,
  Employ that well, for that's within thy power.

In St. Mary's Church, Beverley, a tablet is placed in remembrance of a
notable Yorkshire actor:--

            In Memory of
           SAMUEL BUTLER,
    A poor player that struts and
  frets his hour upon the stage, and
        then is heard no more.
        Obt. June 15th 1812,
              Æt. 62.

Butler's gifted son, Samuel William, was buried in Ardwick cemetery,
Manchester. A gravestone placed to his memory bears the following eloquent
inscription by Charles Swain:--

                      Here rest the
                    mortal remains of
                  SAMUEL WILLIAM BUTLER,
  In him the stage lost a highly-gifted and accomplished actor,
              one whose tongue the noblest creations
              of the poet found truthful utterance.
           After long and severe suffering he departed
          this life the 17th day of July, in the year of
                  our Lord 1845. Aged 41 years.

        Whence this ambition, whence this proud desire,
        This love of fame, this longing to aspire?
        To gather laurels in their greenest bloom,
        To honour life and sanctify the tomb?
        'Tis the Divinity that never dies,
        Which prompts the soul of genius still to rise.
        Though fade the Laurel, leaf by leaf away,
        The soul hath prescience of a fadeless day;
        And God's eternal promise, like a star,
        From faded hopes still points to hopes afar;
        Where weary hearts for consolation trust,
        And bliss immortal quickens from the dust.
        On this great hope, the painter, actor, bard,
        And all who ever strove for Fame's reward,
        Must rest at last; and all that earth have trod
        Still need the grace of a forgiving God!

A very interesting sketch of the life of Butler, from the pen of John
Evans, is given in the "Papers of the Manchester Literary Club" vol. iii,
published 1877.

In many collections of epitaphs the following is stated to be inscribed on
a gravestone at Gillingham, but we are informed by the Vicar that no such
epitaph is to be found, nor is there any trace of it having been placed
there at any time:--

                        To the Memory of
                    THOMAS JACKSON, Comedian,
    Who was engaged 21st of December, 1741, to play a comic cast of
    characters, in this great theatre--the world; for many of which
                 he was prompted by nature to excel.

    The season being ended, his benefit over, the charges all paid, and
    his account closed, he made his exit in the tragedy of Death, on the
    17th of March, 1798, in full assurance of being called once more to
    rehearsal; where he hopes to find his forfeits all cleared, his cast
    of parts bettered, and his situation made agreeable, by Him who paid
    the great stock-debt, for the love He bore to performers in general.

The following epitaph was written by Swift on Dicky Pearce, who died 1728,
aged 63 years. He was a famous fool, and his name carries us back to the
time when kings and noblemen employed jesters for the delectation of
themselves and their friends. It is from Beckley, and reads as follows:--

  Here lies the Earl of Suffolk's Fool,
    Men call him DICKY PEARCE;
  His folly serv'd to make men laugh,
    When wit and mirth were scarce.
  Poor Dick, alas! is dead and gone,
    What signifies to cry?
  Dickys enough are still behind
    To laugh at by and by.

In our "Historic Romance," published 1883, by Hamilton, Adams, and Co.,
London, will be found an account of "Fools and Jesters of the English
Sovereigns," and we therein state that the last recorded instance of a
fool being kept by an English family, is that of John Hilton's Fool,
retained at Hilton Castle, Durham, who died in 1746.

The following epitaph is inscribed on a tombstone in the churchyard of St.
Mary Friars, Shrewsbury, on Cadman, a famous "flyer" on the rope,
immortalised by Hogarth, and who broke his neck descending from a steeple
in Shrewsbury, in 1740:--

  Let this small monument record the name
  Of CADMAN, and to future times proclaim
  How, by an attempt to fly from this high spire,
  Across the _Sabrine_ stream, he did acquire
  His fatal end. 'Twas not for want of skill,
  Or courage to perform the task, he fell;
  No, no,--a faulty cord being drawn too tight
  Hurried his soul on high to take her flight,
  Which bid the body here beneath, good-night.

Joe Miller, of facetious memory, next claims our attention. We find it
stated in Chambers's "Book of Days" (issued 1869), as follows: Miller was
interred in the burial-ground of the parish of St. Clement Danes, in
Portugal Street, where a tombstone was erected to his memory. About ten
years ago, that burial-ground, by the removal of the mortuary remains, and
the demolition of the monuments, was converted into a site for King's
College Hospital. Whilst this not unnecessary, yet undesirable,
desecration was in progress, the writer saw Joe's tombstone lying on the
ground; and being told that it would be broken up and used as materials
for the new building, he took an exact copy of the inscription, which was
as follows:

           Here lye the Remains of
           Honest JO : MILLER,
                 who was
             a tender Husband,
             a sincere Friend,
           a facetious Companion,
         and an excellent Comedian.
     He departed this Life the 15th day of
         August 1738, aged 54 years.

  If humour, wit, and honesty could save
  The humourous, witty, honest, from the grave,
  The grave had not so soon this tenant found,
  Whom honesty, and wit, and humour, crowned;
  Could but esteem, and love preserve our breath,
  And guard us longer from the stroke of Death,
  The stroke of Death on him had later fell,
  Whom all mankind esteemed and loved so well.

                   S. DUCK,
          From respect to social worth,
    mirthful qualities, and histrionic excellence,
  commemorated by poetic talent in humble life.
      The above inscription, which Time
    had nearly obliterated, has been preserved
      and transferred to this Stone, by order of
          MR. JARVIS BUCK, Churchwarden,
                   A.D. 1816.


An interesting sketch of the life of JOE MILLER will be found in the "Book
of Days," vol. II., page 216, and in the same informing and entertaining
work, the following notes are given respecting the writer of the foregoing
epitaph: "The 'S. DUCK,' whose name figures as author of the verses on
MILLER'S tombstone, and who is alluded to on the same tablet, by Mr.
Churchwarden Buck, as an instance of 'poetic talent in humble life,'
deserves a short notice. He was a thresher in the service of a farmer near
Kew, in Surrey. Imbued with an eager desire for learning, he, under most
adverse circumstances, managed to obtain a few books, and educate himself
to a limited degree. Becoming known as a rustic rhymer, he attracted the
attention of Caroline, queen of George II., who, with her accustomed
liberality, settled on him a pension of £30 per annum; she made him a
Yeoman of the Guard, and installed him as keeper of a kind of museum she
had in Richmond Park, called Merlin's Cave. Not content with these
promotions, the generous, but perhaps inconsiderate queen, caused Duck to
be admitted to holy orders, and preferred to the living of Byfleet, in
Surrey, where he became a popular preacher among the lower classes,
chiefly through the novelty of being the 'Thresher Parson.' This gave
Swift occasion to write the following quibbling epigram:--

  "The thresher Duck could o'er the queen prevail;
  The proverb says,--'No fence against a flail.'
  From threshing corn, he turns to thresh his brains,
  For which her Majesty allows him grains;
  Though 'tis confest, that those who ever saw
  His poems, think 'em all not worth a straw.
  Thrice happy Duck! employed in threshing stubble!
  Thy toil is lessened, and thy profits double.

"One would suppose the poor thresher to have been beneath Swift's notice,
but the provocation was great, and the chastisement, such as it was,
merited. For though few men had ever less pretensions to poetical genius
than Duck, yet the Court party actually set him up as a rival--nay, as
superior--to Pope. And the saddest part of the affair was that Duck, in
his utter simplicity and ignorance of what really constituted poetry, was
led to fancy himself the greatest poet of the age. Consequently,
considering that his genius was neglected, and that he was not rewarded
according to his poetical deserts by being made the clergyman of an
obscure village, he fell into a state of melancholy, which ended in
suicide; affording another to the numerous instances of the very great
difficulty of doing good. If the well-meaning queen had elevated Duck to
the position of farm-bailiff, he might have led a long and happy life,
amongst the scenes and the classes of society in which his youth had
passed, and thus been spared the pangs of disappointed vanity and
misdirected ambition."

Says a thoughtful writer, if truth, perspicuity, wit, gravity, and every
property pertaining to the ancient or modern epitaph, were ever united in
one of terse brevity, it was that made for Burbage, the tragedian, in the
days of Shakespeare:--

  "Exit BURBAGE."

Jerrold, perhaps, with that brevity, which is the soul of wit, trumped the
above by his anticipatory epitaph on that excellent man and distinguished
historian, Charles Knight:--

  "Good KNIGHT."


We have under this heading some curious graveyard gleanings on remarkable
men and women. Our first is from a tombstone erected in the churchyard of
Spofforth, at the cost of Lord Dundas, telling the remarkable career of
John Metcalf, better known as "Blind Jack of Knaresborough":--

  Here lies JOHN METCALF, one whose infant sight
  Felt the dark pressure of an endless night;
  Yet such the fervour of his dauntless mind,
  His limbs full strung, his spirits unconfined,
  That, long ere yet life's bolder years began,
  The sightless efforts marked th' aspiring man;
  Nor marked in vain--high deeds his manhood dared,
  And commerce, travel, both his ardour shared.
  'Twas his a guide's unerring aid to lend--
  O'er trackless wastes to bid new roads extend;
  And, when rebellion reared her giant size,
  'Twas his to burn with patriot enterprise;
  For parting wife and babes, a pang to feel,
  Then welcome danger for his country's weal.
  Reader, like him, exert thy utmost talent given!
  Reader, like him, adore the bounteous hand of Heaven.

He died on the 26th of April, 1801, in the 93rd year of his age.

A few jottings respecting Metcalf, will probably be read with interest. At
the age of six years he lost his sight by an attack of small-pox. Three
years later he joined the boys in their bird-nesting exploits, and climbed
trees to share the plunder. When he had reached thirteen summers he was
taught music, and soon became a proficient performer; he also learned to
ride and swim, and was passionately fond of field-sports. At the age of
manhood it is said his mind possessed a self-dependence rarely enjoyed by
those who have the perfect use of their faculties; his body was well in
harmony with his mind, for when twenty-one years of age he was six feet
one and a-half inches in height, strong and robust in proportion. At the
age of twenty-five, he was engaged as a musician at Harrogate. About this
time he was frequently employed during the dark nights as a guide over the
moors and wilds, then abundant in the neighbourhood of Knaresborough. He
was a lover of horse-racing, and often rode his own animals. His horses he
so tamed that when he called them by their respective names they came to
him, thus enabling him to find his own amongst any number and without
trouble. Particulars of the marriage of this individual read like a
romance. A Miss Benson, daughter of an innkeeper, reciprocated the
affections of our hero; however, the suitor did not please the parents of
the "fair lady," and they selected a Mr. Dickinson as her future husband.
Metcalf, hearing that the object of his affection was to be married the
following day to the young man selected by her father, hastened to free
her by inducing the damsel to elope with him. Next day they were made man
and wife, to the great surprise of all who knew them, and to the
disappointment of the intended son-in-law. To all it was a matter of
wonder how a handsome woman as any in the country, the pride of the place,
could link her future with 'Blind Jack,' and, for his sake, reject the
many good offers made her. But the bride set the matter at rest by
declaring: "His actions are so singular, and his spirit so manly and
enterprising, that I could not help it."

It is worthy of note that he was the first to set up, for the public
accommodation of visitors to Harrogate, a four-wheeled chaise and a
one-horse chair; these he kept for two seasons. He next bought horses and
went to the coast for fish, which he conveyed to Leeds and Manchester. In
1745, when the rebellion broke out in Scotland, he joined a regiment of
volunteers raised by Colonel Thornton, a patriotic gentleman, for the
defence of the House of Hanover. Metcalf shared with his comrades all the
dangers of the campaign. He was defeated at Falkirk, and victorious at
Culloden. He was the first to set up (in 1754) a stage-waggon between York
and Knaresborough, which he conducted himself twice a week in summer, and
once a week in winter. This employment he followed until he commenced
contracting for road-making. His first contract was for making three miles
of road between Minskip and Ferrensby. He afterwards erected bridges and
houses, and made hundreds of miles of roads in Yorkshire, Lancashire,
Cheshire, and Derbyshire. He was a dealer in timber and hay, of which he
measured and calculated the solid contents by a peculiar method of his
own. The hay he always measured with his arms, and, having learned the
height, he could tell the number of square yards in the stack. When he
went out, he always carried with him a stout staff some inches taller than
himself, which was of great service both in his travels and measurements.
In 1778 he lost his wife, after thirty-nine years of conjugal felicity, in
the sixty-first year of her age. She was interred at Stockport. Four years
later he left Lancashire, and settled at the pleasant rural village of
Spofforth, not far distant from the town of his nativity. With a daughter,
he resided on a small farm until he died, in 1801. At the time of his
decease, his descendants were four children, twenty grandchildren, and
ninety great-grandchildren.

[In one of our articles in _Chambers's Journal_ we furnished the foregoing
sketch, and it has since been reproduced in many newspapers and in several

In "Yorkshire Longevity," compiled by Mr. William Grainge, of Harrogate, a
most painstaking writer on local history, will be found an interesting
account of Henry Jenkins, a celebrated Yorkshireman. It is stated: "In the
year 1743, a monument was erected, by subscription, in Bolton churchyard,
to the memory of Jenkins; it consists of a square base of freestone, four
feet four inches on each side, by four feet six inches in height,
surmounted by a pyramid eleven feet high. On the east side is inscribed:--

      This monument was
    erected by contribution,
  in ye year 1743, to ye memory
       of HENRY JENKINS.

On the west side:--

    Aged 169.

In the church, on a mural tablet of black marble, is inscribed the
following epitaph, composed by Dr. Thomas Chapman, Master of Magdalen
College, Cambridge:--

             Blush not, marble,
         to rescue from oblivion
              the memory of
              HENRY JENKINS:
         a person obscure in birth,
       but of a life truly memorable;
             he was enriched
         with the goods of nature,
             if not of fortune,
                 and happy
              in the duration,
                if not variety,
              of his enjoyments:
            tho' the partial world
            despised and disregarded
            his low and humble state,
          the equal eye of Providence
              beheld, and blessed it
  with a patriarch's health and length of days:
            to teach mistaken man,
  these blessings were entailed on temperance,
    or, a life of labour and a mind at ease.
      He lived to the amazing age of 169;
    was interred here, Dec. 6, (or 9,) 1670,
  and had this justice done to his memory 1743.

This inscription is a proof that learned men, and masters of colleges, are
not always exempt from the infirmity of writing nonsense. Passing over the
modest request to the _black_ marble not to blush, because it may _feel_
itself degraded by bearing the name of the plebeian Jenkins, when it ought
only to have been appropriated to kings and nobles, we find but
questionable philosophy in this inappropriate composition.

The multitude of great events which took place during the lifetime of this
man are truly wonderful and astonishing. He lived under the rule of nine
sovereigns of England--Henry VII.; Henry VIII.; Edward VI.; Mary;
Elizabeth; James I.; Charles I.; Oliver Cromwell; and Charles II. He was
born when the Roman Catholic religion was established by law. He saw the
dissolution of the monasteries, and the faith of the nation
changed--Popery established a second time by Queen Mary--Protestantism
restored by Elizabeth--the Civil War between Charles and the Parliament
begun and ended--Monarchy abolished--the young Republic of England,
arbiter of the destinies of Europe--and the restoration of Monarchy under
the libertine Charles II. During his time, England was invaded by the
Scots; a Scottish King was slain, and a Scottish Queen beheaded in
England; a King of Spain and a King of Scotland were Kings in England;
three Queens and one King were beheaded in England in his days; and fire
and plague alike desolated London. His lifetime appears like that of a
nation, more than an individual, so long was it extended and so crowded
was it with such great events."

The foregoing many incidents remind us of the well-known Scottish epitaph
on Marjory Scott, who died February 26th, 1728, at Dunkeld, at the extreme
age of one hundred years. According to Chambers's "Domestic Annals of
Scotland," the following epitaph was composed for her by Alexander
Pennecuik, but never inscribed, and it has been preserved by the reverend
statist of the parish, as a whimsical statement of historical facts
comprehended within the life of an individual:--

  Stop, passenger, until my life you read,
  The living may get knowledge from the dead.
  Five times five years I led a virgin life,
  Five times five years I was a virtuous wife;
  Ten times five years I lived a widow chaste,
  Now tired of this mortal life I rest.
  Betwixt my cradle and my grave hath been
  Eight mighty kings of Scotland and a queen.
  Full twice five years the Commonwealth I saw.
  Ten times the subjects rise against the law;
  And, which is worse than any civil war,
  A king arraigned before the subject's bar.
  Swarms of sectarians, hot with hellish rage,
  Cut off his royal head upon the stage.
  Twice did I see old prelacy pulled down,
  And twice the cloak did sink beneath the gown.
  I saw the Stuart race thrust out; nay, more,
  I saw our country sold for English ore;
  Our numerous nobles, who have famous been,
  Sunk to the lowly number of sixteen.
  Such desolation in my days have been,
  I have an end of all perfection seen!

A foot-note states: "The minister's version is here corrected from one of
the _Gentleman's Magazines_ for January 1733; but both are incorrect,
there having been during 1728 and the one hundred preceding years no more
than six kings of Scotland."

In Scott's "Tales of a Grandfather," there is an account of the Battle of
Lillyard's Edge, which was fought in 1545. The spot on which the battle
occurred is so called from an Amazonian Scottish woman, who is reported,
by tradition, to have distinguished herself in the fight. An inscription
which was placed on her tombstone was legible within the present century,
and is said to have run thus:--

  Fair Maiden Lillyard lies under this stane,
  Little was her stature, but great was her fame;
  Upon the English louns she laid many thumps,
  And when her legs were cutted off, she fought upon her stumps.

The tradition says that a beautiful young lady, called Lillyard, followed
her lover from the little village of Maxton, and when she saw him fall in
battle, rushed herself into the heat of the fight, and was killed, after
slaying several of the English.

On one of the buttresses on the south side of St. Mary's Church, at
Beverley, is an oval tablet, to commemorate the fate of two Danish
soldiers, who, during their voyage to Hull, to join the service of the
Prince of Orange, in 1689, quarrelled, and having been marched with the
troops to Beverley, during their short stay there sought a private meeting
to settle their differences by the sword. Their melancholy end is recorded
in a doggerel epitaph, of which we give an illustration.

In the parish registers the following entries occur:--

  1689, December 16.--Daniel Straker, a Danish trooper buried.
   "    December 23.--Johannes Frederick Bellow, a Danish trooper,
                      beheaded for killing the other, buried.

In a note from the Rev. Jno. Pickford, M.A., we are told: "The mode of
execution was, it may be presumed, by a broad two-handed sword, such a
one as Sir Walter Scott has particularly described in "Anne of
Geierstein," as used at the decapitation of Sir Archibald de Hagenbach,
"and which the executioner is described as wielding with such address and
skill. The Danish culprit was, like the oppressive knight, probably bound
and seated in a chair; but such swords as those depicted on the tablet
could not well have been used for the purpose, for they are long, narrow
in the blade, and perfectly straight."


We have in the "Diary of Abraham de la Pryme," the Yorkshire Antiquary,
some very interesting particulars respecting the Danes. Writing in 1689,
the diarist tells us: "Towards the latter end of the aforegoing year,
there landed at Hull about six or seven thousand Danes, all stout fine
men, the best equip'd and disciplin'd of any that was ever seen. They were
mighty godly and religious. You would seldom or never hear an oath or ugly
word come out of their mouths. They had a great many ministers amongst
them, whome they call'd pastours, and every Sunday almost, ith' afternoon,
they prayed and preach'd as soon as our prayers was done. They sung almost
all their divine service, and every ministre had those that made up a
quire whom the rest follow'd. Then there was a sermon of about
half-an-houre's length, all _memoratim_, and then the congregation broke
up. When they adminstered the sacrament, the ministre goes into the church
and caused notice to be given thereof, then all come before, and he
examined them one by one whether they were worthy to receive or no. If
they were he admitted them, if they were not he writ their names down in a
book, and bid them prepare against the next Sunday. Instead of bread in
the sacrament, I observed that they used wafers about the bigness and
thickness of a sixpence. They held it no sin to play at cards upon
Sundays, and commonly did everywhere where they were suffered; for indeed
in many places the people would not abide the same, but took the cards
from them. Tho' they loved strong drink, yet all the while I was amongst
them, which was all this winter, I never saw above five or six of them

The diarist tells us that the strangers liked this country. It appears
they worked for the farmers, and sold tumblers, cups, spoons, &c., which
they had imported, to the English. They acted in the courthouse a play in
their own language, and realised a good sum of money by their
performances. The design of the piece was "Herod's Tyranny--The Birth of
Christ--The Coming of the Wise Men."

In Bolton churchyard, Lancashire, is a gravestone of considerable
historical interest. It has been incorrectly printed in several books and
magazines, but we are able to give a literal copy drawn from a carefully
compiled "History of Bolton," by John D. Briscoe:--


    The servant of God, was borne in London, 1608, came into this toune in
    1629, married Mary, daughter of James Crompton, of Breightmet, 1635,
    with whom he lived comfortably 20 yeares, & begot 4 sons and 6
    daughters. Since then he lived sole till the da of his death. In his
    time were many great changes, & terrible alterations--18 yeares Civil
    Wars in England, besides many dreadful sea fights--the crown or
    command of England changed 8 times, Episcopacy laid aside 14 yeares;
    London burnt by Papists, & more stately built againe; Germany wasted
    300 miles; 200,000 protestants murdered in Ireland, by the papists;
    this toune thrice stormed--once taken, & plundered. He went throw many
    troubles and divers conditions, found rest, joy, & happines only in
    holines--the faith, feare, and loue of God in Jesus Christ. He died
    the 29 of Ap and lieth here buried, 1684. Come Lord Jesus, o come
    quickly. Holiness is man's happines.


We gather from Mr. Briscoe's history that Okey was a woolcomber, and came
from London, to superintend some works at Bolton, where he married the
niece of the proprietor, and died in affluence.

Bradley, the "Yorkshire Giant," was buried in the Market Weighton church,
and on a marble monument the following inscription appears:--

         In memory of
     (Of Market Weighton,)
    Who died May 30th, 1820,
        Aged 33 years.
         He Measured
  Seven feet nine inches in Height,
         and Weighed
     twenty-seven stones.

In "Celebrities of the Yorkshire Wolds," by Frederick Ross, an interesting
sketch of Bradley is given. Mr Ross states that he was a man of temperate
habits, and never drank anything stronger than water, milk, or tea, and
was a very moderate eater.

In Hampsthwaite churchyard was interred a "Yorkshire Dwarf." Her
gravestone states:--

    In memory of JANE RIDSDALE, daughter of George and Isabella Ridsdale,
    of Hampsthwaite, who died at Swinton Hall, in the parish of Masham, on
    the 2nd day of January, 1828, in the 59th year of her age. Being in
    stature only 31-1/2 inches high.

        Blest be the hand divine which gently laid
        My head at rest beneath the humble shade;
        Then be the ties of friendship dear;
        Let no rude hand disturb my body here.

In the burial-ground of St. Martin's, Stamford, Lincolnshire, is a
gravestone to Lambert of surprising corpulency:--

          In remembrance of that prodigy in nature,
                     DANIEL LAMBERT,
                 a native of Leicester,
  who was possessed of an excellent and convivial mind, and
            in personal greatness had no competitor.
  He measured three feet one inch round the leg, nine feet four
      inches round the body, and weighed 52 stones 11lbs.
                   (14lb. to the stone).
  He departed this life on the 21st of June, 1809, aged 39 years.
      As a testimony of respect, this stone was erected by his
                   friends in Leicester.

Respecting the burial of Lambert we gather from a sketch of his life the
following particulars: "His coffin, in which there was a great difficulty
to place him, was six feet four inches long, four feet four inches wide,
and two feet four inches deep; the immense substance of his legs made it
necessarily a square case. This coffin, which consisted of 112 superficial
feet of elm, was built on two axle-trees, and four cog-wheels. Upon these
his remains were rolled into his grave, which was in the new burial ground
at the back of St. Martin's Church. A regular descent was made by sloping
it for some distance. It was found necessary to take down the window and
wall of the room in which he lay to allow of his being taken away."

In St. Peter's churchyard, Isle of Thanet, a gravestone bears the
following inscription:--

  In memory of Mr. RICHARD JOY called the
              Kentish Samson
        Died May 18th 1742 aged 67

    Hercules Hero Famed for Strength
    At last Lies here his Breadth and Length
    See how the mighty man is fallen
    To Death ye strong and weak are all one
    And the same Judgment doth Befall
    Goliath Great or David small.

Joy was invited to Court to exhibit his remarkable feats of strength. In
1699 his portrait was published, and appended to it was an account of his
prodigious physical power.

The next epitaph is from St. James's cemetery, Liverpool:--

          Reader pause. Deposited beneath are the remains of
                         SARAH BIFFIN,

    who was born without arms or hands, at Quantox Head, County of
    Somerset, 25th of October, 1784, died at Liverpool, 2nd October, 1850.
    Few have passed through the vale of life so much the child of hapless
    fortune as the deceased: and yet possessor of mental endowments of no
    ordinary kind. Gifted with singular talents as an Artist, thousands
    have been gratified with the able productions of her pencil! whilst
    versatile conversation and agreeable manners elicited the admiration
    of all. This tribute to one so universally admired is paid by those
    who were best acquainted with the character it so briefly portrays. Do
    any inquire otherwise--the answer is supplied in the solemn admonition
    of the Apostle--

        Now no longer the subject of tears,
          Her conflict and trials are o'er,
        In the presence of God she appears

            *       *       *       *

Our correspondent, Mrs. Charlotte Jobling, from whom we received the
above, says: "The remainder is buried. It stands against the wall, and
does not appear to now mark the grave of Miss Biffin." Mr. Henry Morley,
in his carefully prepared and entertaining "Memoirs of Bartholomew Fair,"
writing about the fair of 1799, mentions Miss Biffin. "She was found,"
says Mr. Morley, "in the Fair, and assisted by the Earl of Morton, who sat
for his likeness to her, always taking the unfinished picture away with
him when he left, that he might prove it to be all the work of her own
shoulder. When it was done he laid it before George III., in the year
1808; obtained the King's favour for Miss Biffin; and caused her to
receive, at his own expense, further instruction in her art from Mr.
Craig. For the last twelve years of his life he maintained a
correspondence with her; and, after having enjoyed favour from two King
Georges, she received from William IV. a small pension, with which, at the
Earl's request, she retired from a life among caravans. But fourteen years
later, having been married in the interval, she found it necessary to
resume, as Mrs. Wright, late Miss Biffin, her business as a skilful
miniature painter, in one or two of our chief provincial towns."

The following on Butler, the author of "Hudibras," merits a place in our
pages. The first inscription is from St. Paul's, Covent Garden:--

    BUTLER, the celebrated author of "Hudibras," was buried in this
    church. Some of the inhabitants, understanding that so famous a man
    was there buried, and regretting that neither stone nor inscription
    recorded the event, raised a subscription for the purpose of erecting
    something to his memory. Accordingly, an elegant tablet has been put
    up in the portico of the church, bearing a medallion of that great
    man, which was taken from his monument in Westminster Abbey.

The following lines were contributed by Mr. O'Brien, and are engraved
beneath the medallion:--

  A few plain men, to pomp and pride unknown,
  O'er a poor bard have rais'd this humble stone,
  Whose wants alone his genius could surpass,
  Victim of zeal! the matchless "Hudibras."
  What, tho' fair freedom suffer'd in his page,
  Reader, forgive the author--for the age.
  How few, alas! disdain to cringe and cant,
  When 'tis the mode to play the sycophant.
  But oh! let all be taught, from BUTLER'S fate,
  Who hope to make their fortunes by the great;
  That wit and pride are always dangerous things,
  And little faith is due to courts or kings.

The erection of the above monument was the occasion of this very good
epigram by Mr. S. Wesley:--

  Whilst BUTLER (needy wretch!) was yet alive,
  No gen'rous patron would a dinner give;
  See him, when starv'd to death and turn'd to dust,
  Presented with a monumental bust!
  The poet's fate is here in emblem shown,
  He ask'd for bread, and he received a stone.

It is worth remarking that the poet was starving, while his prince,
Charles II., always carried a "Hudibras" in his pocket.

The inscription on his monument in the Abbey is as follows:--

                        Sacred to the Memory of
                           SAMUEL BUTLER,

    Who was born at Strensham, in Worcestershire, 1612, and died at
    London, 1680; a man of uncommon learning, wit, and probity: as
    admirable for the product of his genius, as unhappy in the rewards of
    them. His satire, exposing the hypocrisy and wickedness of the rebels,
    is such an inimitable piece, that, as he was the first, he may be
    said to be the last writer in his peculiar manner. That he, who, when
    living, wanted almost everything, might not, after death, any longer
    want so much as a tomb, John Barber, citizen of London, erected this
    monument 1721.

Here are a few particulars respecting an oddity, furnished by a
correspondent: "Died, at High Wycombe, Bucks, on the 24th May, 1837, Mr.
John Guy, aged 64. His remains were interred in Hughenden churchyard, near
Wycombe. On a marble slab, on the lid of his coffin, is the following

  Here, without nail or shroud, doth lie
  Or covered by a pall, JOHN GUY.

          Born May 17th, 1773.
          Died ---- 24th, 1837.

On his grave-stone these lines are inscribed:--

  In coffin made without a nail,
    Without a shroud his limbs to hide;
  For what can pomp or show avail,
    Or velvet pall, to swell the pride.
  Here lies JOHN GUY beneath this sod,
    Who lov'd his friends, and fear'd his God.

This eccentric gentleman was possessed of considerable property, and was a
native of Gloucestershire. His grave and coffin were made under his
directions more than a twelvemonth before his death; the inscription on
the tablet on his coffin, and the lines placed upon his gravestone, were
his own compositions. He gave all necessary orders for the conducting of
his funeral, and five shillings were wrapped in separate pieces of paper
for each of the bearers. The coffin was of singular beauty and neatness in
workmanship, and looked more like a piece of tasteful cabinet work
intended for a drawing-room, than a receptable for the dead.

Near the great door of the Abbey of St. Peter, Gloucester, says Mr. Henry
Calvert Appleby, at the bottom of the body of the building, is a marble
monument to John Jones, dressed in the robes of an alderman, painted in
different colours. Underneath the effigy, on a tablet of black marble, are
the following words:--

    JOHN JONES, alderman, thrice mayor of the city, burgess of the
    Parliament at the time of the gunpowder treason; registrar to eight
    several Bishops of this diocese.

He died in the sixth year of the reign of King Charles, on the first of
June, 1630. He gave orders for his monument to be raised in his lifetime.
When the workmen had fixed it up, he found fault with it, remarking that
the _nose was too red_. While they were altering it, he walked up and down
the body of the church. He then said that he had himself almost finished,
so he paid off the men, and died the next morning.

The next epitaph from Newark, Nottinghamshire, furnishes a chapter of
local history:--

             Sacred to the memory
      Of HERCULES CLAY, Alderman of Newark,
      Who died in the year of his Mayoralty,
                Jan. 1, 1644.
        On the 5th of March, 1643,
      He and his family were preserved
          By the Divine Providence
    From the thunderbolt of a terrible cannon
    Which had been levelled against his house
             By the Besiegers,
      And entirely destroyed the same.
     Out of gratitude for this deliverance,
               He has taken care
     To perpetuate the remembrance thereof
     By an alms to the poor and a sermon;
                By this means
         Raising to himself a Monument
           More durable than Brass.

  The thund'ring Cannon sent forth from its mouth the devouring Flames
  Against my Household Gods, and yours, O Newark.
  The Ball, thus thrown, Involved the House in Ruin;
  But by a Divine Admonition from Heaven I was saved,
  Being thus delivered by a strength Greater than that of Hercules,
  And having been drawn out of the deep Clay,
  I now inhabit the stars on high.
  Now, Rebel, direct thy unavailing Fires at Heaven,
  Art thou afraid to fight against God--thou
  Who hast been a Murderer of His People?
  Thou durst not, Coward, scatter thy Flames
  Whilst Charles is lord of earth and skies.

        Also of his beloved wife
        Mary (by the gift of God)
      Partaker of the same felicity.

  Wee too made one by his decree
  That is but one in Trinity,
  Did live as one till death came in
  And made us two of one agen;
  Death was much blamed for our divorce,
  But striving how he might doe worse
  By killing th' one as well as th' other,
  He fairely brought us both togeather,
  Our soules together where death dare not come,
  Our bodyes lye interred beneath this tomb,
  Wayting the resurrection of the just,
  O knowe thyself (O man), thou art but dust.[1]

    [1] "Annals of Newark-upon-Trent," by Cornelius Brown, published 1879.

It is stated that Charles II., in a gay moment asked Rochester to write
his epitaph. Rochester immediately wrote:--

  Here lies the mutton-eating king,
    Whose word no man relied on;
  Who never said a foolish thing,
    Nor ever did a wise one.

On which the King wrote the following comment:--

  If death could speak, the king would say,
    In justice to his crown,
  His _acts_ they were the minister's,
    His words they were his own.

Our friend, Mr. Thomas Broadbent Trowsdale, F.R.H.S., who has written much
and well in history, folk-lore, etc., tells us: "In the fine old church of
Chepstow, Monmouthshire, nearly opposite the reading desk, is a memorial
stone with the following curious acrostic inscription, in capital

      HERE SEPT. 9TH, 1680,
           WAS BURIED
  Who, in Berkshire, was well known
  To love his country's freedom 'bove his own:
  But being immured full twenty year
  Had time to write, as doth appear--


  H ere or elsewhere (all's one to you or me)
  E arth, Air, or Water gripes my ghostly dust,
  N one knows how soon to be by fire set free;
  R eader, if you an old try'd rule will trust,
  Y ou'll gladly do and suffer what you must.

  M y time was spent in serving you and you,
  A nd death's my pay, it seems, and welcome too;
  R evenge destroying but itself, while I
  T o birds of prey leave my old cage and fly;
  E xamples preach to the eye--care then, (mine says)
  N ot how you end, but how you spend your days.

This singular epitaph points out the last resting place of Henry Marten,
one of the judges who condemned King Charles I. to the scaffold. On the
Restoration, Marten was sentenced to perpetual imprisonment, Chepstow
Castle being selected as the place of his incarceration. There he died in
1680, in the twenty-eighth year of his captivity, and seventy-eighth of
his age. He was originally interred in the chancel of the church; but a
subsequent vicar of Chepstow, Chest by name, who carried his petty party
animosities even beyond the grave, had the dead man's dust removed,
averring that he would not allow the body of a regicide to lie so near the
altar. And so it was that Marten's memorial came to occupy its present
position in the passage leading from the nave to the north aisle. We are
told that one, Mr. Downton, a son-in-law of this pusillanimous parson,
touched to the quick by his relative's harsh treatment of poor Marten's
inanimate remains, retorted by writing this satirical epitaph for the Rev.
Mr. Chest's tombstone:--

  Here lies at rest, I do protest,
    One CHEST within another!
  The chest of wood was very good,--
    Who says so of the other?

Some doubt has been thrown on the probability of a man of Marten's culture
having written, as is implied in the inscription, the epitaph which has a
place on his memorial.

The regicide was a son of Sir Henry Marten, a favourite of the first
James, and by him appointed Principal Judge of the Admiralty and Dean of
Arches. Young Henry was himself a prominent person during the period of
the disastrous Civil War, and was elected Member of Parliament for
Berkshire in 1640. He was, in politics, a decided Republican, and threw in
his lot with the Roundhead followers of sturdy Oliver. When the tide of
popular favour turned in Charles II.'s direction, and Royalty was
reinstated, Marten and the rest of the regicides were brought to judgment
for signing the death warrant of their monarch. The consequence, in
Marten's case, was life-long imprisonment, as we have seen, in Chepstow

Next is a copy of an acrostic epitaph from Tewkesbury Abbey:--

    Here lyeth the body of THOMAS MERRETT, of Tewkesbury,
    Barber-chirurgeon, who departed this life the 22nd day of October,

        T hough only Stone Salutes the reader's eye,
        H ere (in deep silence) precious dust doth lye,
        O bscurely Sleeping in Death's mighty store,
        M ingled with common earth till time's no more,
        A gainst Death's Stubborne laws, who dares repine,
        S ince So much Merrett did his life resigne.

        M urmurs and Teares are useless in the grave,
        E lse hee whole Vollies at his Tomb might have.
        R est here in Peace; who like a faithful steward,
        R epair'd the Church, the Poore and needy cur'd;
        E ternall mansions do attend the Just,
        T o clothe with Immortality their dust,
        T ainted (whilst under ground) with wormes and rust.

Under the shadow of the ancient church of Bakewell, Derbyshire, is a stone
containing a long inscription to the memory of John Dale, barber-surgeon,
and his two wives, Elizabeth Foljambe and Sarah Bloodworth. It ends

    Know posterity, that on the 8th of April, in the year of grace 1757,
    the rambling remains of the above JOHN DALE were, in the 86th yeare of
    his pilgrimage, laid upon his two wives.

        This thing in life might raise some jealousy,
        Here all three lie together lovingly,
        But from embraces here no pleasure flows,
        Alike are here all human-joys and woes;
        Here Sarah's chiding John no longer hears,
        And old John's rambling Sarah no more fears;
        A period's come to all their toylsome lives,
        The good man's quiet; still are both his wives.

The following is from St. Julian's church, Shrewsbury:--

    The remains of HENRY CORSER of this parish, Chirurgeon, who Deceased
    April 11, 1691, and Annie his wife, who followed him the next day

        We man and wife,
        Conjoined for Life,
        Fetched our last breath
        So near that Death,
        Who part us would,
        Yet hardly could.
        Wedded againe,
        In bed of dust,
        Here we remaine,
        Till rise we must.
        A double prize this grave doth finde,
        If you are wise keep it in minde.

In St. Anne's Churchyard, Soho, erected by the Earl of Orford (Walpole),
in 1758, these lines were (or are) to be read:--

          Near this place is interred
        THEODORE, King of Corsica,
            Who died in this Parish
          December XI., MDCCLVI.,
          Immediately after leaving
          The _King's Bench Prison_,
    By the benefit of the _Act of Insolvency_;
          In consequence of which
      He _registered his Kingdom of Corsica
         For the use of his Creditors_!

  The grave--great teacher--to a level brings
  Heroes and beggars, galley-slaves and kings!
  But THEODORE this moral learned, ere dead;
  Fate pour'd its lessons on his living head,
  Bestow'd a kingdom, and denied him bread.

In the burial-ground of the Island of Juan Fernandez, a monument states:--

                    In Memory of
                 ALEXANDER SELKIRK,
    A native of Largo, in the county of Fife, Scotland,
          Who lived on this island, in complete
        solitude, for four years and four months.
  He was landed from the Cinque Ports galley, 96 tons,
      18 guns, A.D. 1704, and was taken off in the
          Duke, privateer, 12th February, 1709.
      He died Lieutenant of H.M.S. Weymouth,
              A.D. 1723, aged 47 years.
    This Tablet is erected near Selkirk's look out,
      By Commodore Powell and the Officers
          of H.M.S. Topaze, A.D. 1868.

It is generally believed that the adventures of Selkirk suggested to
Daniel Defoe the attractive story of "Robinson Crusoe." In the "Dictionary
of English Literature," by William Davenport Adams, will be found
important information bearing on this subject.

In _Gloucester Notes and Queries_ we read as follows: "Stout's Hill is the
name of a house situated on high ground to the south of the Village of
Uley, built in the style which, in the last century, was intended for
Gothic, but which may be more exactly defined as the 'Strawberry Hill'
style. In a house of earlier date lived the father of Samuel Rudder, the
laborious compiler of the _History of Gloucestershire_ (1779). He lies in
the churchyard of Uley, on the south side of the chancel, and his
grave-stone has a brass-plate inserted, which records a remarkable fact:--

    Underneath lies the remains of ROGER RUTTER, _alias_ RUDDER, eldest
    son of John Rutter, of Uley, who was buried August 30, 1771, aged 84
    years, having never eaten flesh, fish, or fowl, during the course of
    his long life.

Tradition tells us that this vegetarian lived mainly on 'dump,' in various
forms. Usually he ate 'plain dump:' when tired of plain dump, he changed
his diet to 'hard dump;' and when he was in a special state of
exhilaration, he added the variety of 'apple dump' to his very moderate

On the gravestone of Richard Turner, Preston, a hawker of fish, the
following inscription appears:--

    Beneath this stone are deposited the remains of RICHARD TURNER, author
    of the word Teetotal, as applied to abstinence from all intoxicating
    liquors, who departed this life on the 27th day of October, 1846, aged
    56 years.

In Mr. W. E. A. Axon's able and entertaining volume, "Lancashire
Gleanings" (pub. 1883), is an interesting chapter on the "Origin of the
Word 'Teetotal.'" In the same work we are told that Dr. Whitaker, the
historian of Whalley, wrote the following epitaph on a model publican:--

                  Here lies the Body of
                   JOHN WIGGLESWORTH,
            More than fifty years he was the
            perpetual Innkeeper in this Town.
  Withstanding the temptations of that dangerous calling,
            he maintained good order in his
            House, kept the Sabbath day Holy,
              frequented the Public Worship
            with his Family, induced his guests
              to do the same, and regularly
              partook of the Holy Communion.
            He was also bountiful to the Poor,
              in private as well as in public,
            and, by the blessings of Providence
                  on a life so spent, died
                possessed of competent Wealth,
                        Feb. 28, 1813,
                        aged 77 years.

The churchyard of Sutton Coldfield, Warwickshire, contains a gravestone
bearing an inscription as follows:--

          As a warning to female virtue,
    And a humble monument of female chastity,
          This stone marks the grave of
                 MARY ASHFORD,
     Who, in the 20th year of her age, having
  Incautiously repaired to a scene of amusement,
      Was brutally violated and murdered
          On the 27th of May, 1817.

  Lovely and chaste as the primrose pale,
  Rifled of virgin sweetness by the gale,
  Mary! the wretch who thee remorseless slew
  Avenging wrath, who sleeps not, will pursue;
  For though the deed of blood was veiled in night,
  Will not the Judge of all mankind do right?
  Fair blighted flower, the muse that weeps thy doom,
  Rears o'er thy murdered form this warning tomb.

The writer of the foregoing epitaph was Dr. Booker, vicar of Dudley. The
inscription is associated with one of the most remarkable trials of the
present century. It will not be without interest to furnish a few notes on
the case. One Abraham Thornton was tried at the Warwick assizes for the
murder of Mary Ashford, and acquitted. The brother and next of kin of the
deceased, not being satisfied with the verdict, sued out, as the law
allowed him, an appeal against Thornton, by which he could be put on his
trial again. The law allowed the appeal in case of murder, and it also
gave option to the accused of having it tried by wager of law or by wager
of battle. The brother of the unfortunate woman had taken no account of
this, and accordingly, not only Mr. Ashford, but the judge, jury, and bar
were taken greatly aback, and stricken with dismay when the accused, being
requested to plead, took a paper from Mr. Reader, his counsel, and a pair
of gloves, one of which he drew on, and, throwing the other on the ground,
exclaimed, "Not guilty; and I am ready to defend the same with my body!"
Lord Ellenborough on the bench appeared grave, and the accuser looked
amazed, so the court was adjourned to enable the judge to have an
opportunity of conferring with his learned brethren. After several
adjournments, Lord Ellenborough at last declared solemnly, but
reluctantly, that wager of battle was still the law of the land, and that
the accused had a right of appeal to it. To get rid of the law an attempt
was made, by passing a short and speedy Act of Parliament, but this was
ruled impossible, as it would have been _ex post facto_, and people wanted
curiously to see the lists set up in the Tothill Fields. As Mr. Ashford
refused to meet Thornton, he was obliged to cry "craven!" After that the
appellor was allowed to go at large, and he could not be again tried by
wager of law after having claimed his wager of battle. In 1819 an Act was
passed to prevent any further appeals for wager of battle.

The following is copied from a gravestone in Saddleworth churchyard, and
tells a painful story:--

    Here lies interred the dreadfully bruised and lacerated bodies of
    WILLIAM BRADBURY and THOMAS his son, both of Greenfield, who were
    together savagely murdered, in an unusually horrible manner, on Monday
    night, April 2nd, 1832, old William being 84, and Thomas 46 years old.

        Throughout the land, wherever news is read,
        Intelligence of their sad death has spread;
        Those now who talk of far-fam'd Greenfield's hills
        Will think of Bill i' Jacks and Tom o' Bills.

        Such interest did their tragic end excite
        That, ere they were removed from human sight,
        Thousands upon thousands daily came to see
        The bloody scene of the catastrophe.
        One house, one business, and one bed,
        And one most shocking death they had;
        One funeral came, one inquest pass'd,
        And now one grave they have at last.

The following on a Hull character is from South Cave churchyard:--

  In memory of THOMAS SCATCHARD,
  Who dy'd rich in friends, Dec. 10, 1809.
           Aged 58 years.
  That Ann lov'd Tom, is very true,
  Perhaps you'll say, what's that to you.
  Who e'er thou art, remember this,
  Tom lov'd Ann, 'twas that made bliss.

In Welton churchyard, near Hull, the next curious inscription appears on
an old gravestone:--

    Here lieth He ould JEREMY, who hath eight times maried been, but now
    in his ould Age, he lies in his cage, under The gras so Green, which
    JEREMIAH SIMPSON departed this life in the 84 yeare of his age, in the
    year of our Lord 1719.

Mr. J. Potter Briscoe favours us with an account of a famous local
character, and a copy of his epitaph. According to Mr. Briscoe, Vincent
Eyre was by trade a needle-maker, and was a firm and consistent Tory in
politics, taking an active interest in all the party struggles of the
period. His good nature and honesty made him popular among the poor
classes, with whom he chiefly associated. A commendable trait in his
character is worthy of special mention, namely, that, notwithstanding
frequent temptations, he spurned to take a bribe from any one. In the year
1727 an election for a Member of Parliament took place, and all the ardour
of Vin's nature was at once aroused in the interests of his favourite
party. The Tory candidate, Mr. Borlase Warren, was opposed by Mr. John
Plumtree, the Whig nominee, and, in the heat of the excitement, Vin
emphatically declared that he should not mind dying immediately if the
Tories gained the victory. Strange to relate, such an event actually
occurred, for when the contest and the "chairing" of the victor was over,
he fell down dead with joy, September 6th, 1727. The epitaph upon him is
as follows:--

        Here lies VIN EYRE;
        Let fall a tear
          For one true man of honour;
        No courtly lord,
        Who breaks his word,
          Will ever be a mourner.
        In freedom's cause
        He stretched his jaws,
          Exhausted all his spirit,
        Then fell down dead.
        It must be said
          He was a man of merit.
        Let Freemen be
        As brave as he,
          And vote without a guinea;
        VIN EYRE is hurled
        To t'other world,
        And ne'er took bribe or penny.
  True to his friend, to helpless parent kind,
  He died in honour's cause, to interest blind.
  Why should we grieve life's but an airy toy?
  We vainly weep for him who died of joy.

We will next give some account of an eccentric Lincolnshire schoolmaster,
named William Teanby, who resided for many years at Winterton. Respecting
the early years of his career we have not been able to obtain any
information. At the age of 30, he was engaged as a school-master in the
vestry of Winterton church. He had many scholars, and continued teaching
until he had attained a very advanced age. Some years before his death a
gravestone was ordered, whereon he cut in ancient court hand the epitaph
of his wife and children. From this slab he mostly took his food, and long
before his death, placed on two pieces of wood, it served him for a table.
After the epitaph of his wife and children, he left a vacancy for his own
name and age, to be inserted by a friend, which was done at his death. The
coffin in which he proposed being buried was used by him a considerable
time as a cupboard. The old man retained perfect possession of his senses
to the last, and at the age of 95 attended the Lincoln assizes, and gave
away as curiosities, many circular pieces of paper for watches, not larger
than half-a-crown, on which he had written the Lord's prayer and creed. He
was habitually serious. Through attending his school in the church, he
became familiar with the house of death; in feasting from his stone slab,
he enjoyed his meals from the very source which was afterwards to record
the events of his life; and in what was his every day cupboard he now
enjoys a peaceful and quiet rest. He passed away at the advanced age of
97. The tombstone bears the following lines:--

  To us grim death but sadly harsh appears,
  Yet all the ill we feel, is in our fears;
  To die is but to live, upon that shore
  Where billows never beat, nor tempests roar;
  For ere we feel its probe, the pang is o'er;
  The wife, by faith, insulting death defies;
  The poor man resteth in yon azure skies;--
  That home of ease the guilty ne'er can crave,
  Nor think to dwell with God, beyond the grave;--
  It eases lovers, sets the captive free,
  And though a tyrant he gives liberty.

The following lines also appear on the same stone:--

  Death's silent summons comes unto us all,
  And makes a universal funeral!--
  Spares not the tender babe because it's young,
  Youth too, and its men in years, and weak and strong!
  Spares not the wicked, proud, and insolent,
  Neither the righteous, just, nor innocent;
  All living souls, must pass the dismal doom
  Of mournful death, to join the silent tomb.

The following lines to the memory of Thomas Stokes are from his gravestone
in Burton churchyard, upon which a profile of his head is cut. He for many
years swept the roads in Burton:--

                  This stone
          was raised by Subscription
                to the memory of
                THOMAS STOKES,
        an eccentric, but much respected,
              Deaf and Dumb man,
          better known by the name of
                "DUMB TOM,"
      who departed this life Feb. 25th, 1837,
                aged 54 years.

  What man can pause and charge this senseless dust
  With fraud, or subtilty, or aught unjust?
  How few can conscientiously declare
  Their acts have been as honourably fair?
  No gilded bait, no heart ensnaring need
  Could bribe poor STOKES to one dishonest deed.
  Firm in attachment to his friends most true--
  Though Deaf and Dumb, he was excell'd by few.
  Go ye, by nature form'd without defect,
  And copy Tom, and gain as much respect.

Next we deal with an instance of pure affection. The churchyard of the
Yorkshire village of Bowes contains the grave of two lovers, whose
touching fate suggested Mallet's beautiful ballad of "Edward and Emma."
The real names of the couple were Rodger Wrightson and Martha Railton. The
story is rendered with no less accuracy than pathos by the poet:--

  Far in the windings of the vale,
    Fast by a sheltering wood,
  The safe retreat of health and peace,
    A humble cottage stood.

  There beauteous Emma nourished fair,
    Beneath a mother's eye;
  Whose only wish on earth was now
    To see her blest and die.

  Long had she filled each youth with love,
    Each maiden with despair,
  And though by all a wonder owned,
    Yet knew not she was fair.

  Till Edwin came, the pride of swains,
    A soul devoid of art;
  And from whose eyes, serenely mild,
    Shone forth the feeling heart.

We are told that Edwin's father and sister were bitterly opposed to their
love. The poor youth pined away. When he was dying Emma, was permitted to
see him, but the cruel sister would scarcely allow her to bid him a word
of farewell. Returning home, she heard the passing bell toll for the death
of her lover--

  Just then she reached, with trembling step,
    Her aged mother's door--
  "He's gone!" she cried, "and I shall see
    That angel face no more!"

  "I feel, I feel this breaking heart
    Beat high against my side"--
  From her white arm down sunk her head;
    She, shivering, sighed, and died.

The lovers were buried the same day and in the same grave. In the year
1848, Dr. F. Dinsdale, F.S.A., editor of the "Ballads and Songs of David
Mallet," etc., erected a simple but tasteful monument to the memory of the
lovers, bearing the following inscription:--

    RODGER WRIGHTSON, junr., and MARTHA RAILTON, both of Bowes; buried in
    one grave. He died in a fever, and upon tolling his passing bell, she
    cry'd out My heart is broke, and in a few hours expired, purely thro'
    love, March 15, 1714-15. Such is the brief and touching record
    contained in the parish register of burials. It has been handed down
    by unvarying tradition that the grave was at the west end of the
    church, directly beneath the bells. The sad history of these true and
    faithful lovers forms the subject of Mallet's pathetic ballad of
    "Edwin and Emma."[2]

    [2] Black's "Guide to Yorkshire."

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 £2000 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.

In Middleton Tyas Church, near Richmond, is the following:--

          This Monument rescues from Oblivion
      the Remains of the Reverend JOHN MAWER, D.D.,
  Late vicar of this Parish, who died Nov. 18, 1763, aged 60.
        As also of HANNAH MAWER, his wife, who died
                 Dec. 20th, 1766, aged 72.
                 Buried in this Chancel.
            They were persons of eminent worth.
      The Doctor was descended from the Royal Family
      of Mawer, and was inferior to none of his illustrious
      ancestors in personal merit, being the greatest
            Linguist this Nation ever produced.
    He was able to speak & write twenty-two Languages,
      and particularly excelled in the Eastern Tongues,
        in which he proposed to His Royal Highness
      Frederick Prince of Wales, to whom he was firmly
        attached, to propagate the Christian Religion
          in the Abyssinian Empire; a great & noble
              Design, which was frustrated by the
  Death of that amiable Prince; to the great mortification of
        this excellent Person, whose merit meeting with
    no reward in this world, will, it's to be hoped, receive
          it in the next, from that Being which Justice
                      only can influence.


We bring together under this heading a number of specimens that we could
not include in the foregoing chapters of classified epitaphs.

Our example is from Bury St. Edmunds churchyard:--

    Here lies interred the Body of
          MARY HASELTON,
    A young maiden of this town,
  Born of Roman Catholic parents,
    And virtuously brought up,
  Who, being in the act of prayer
      Repeating her vespers,
  Was instantaneously killed by a
  flash of Lightning, August 16th,
        1785. Aged 9 years.

  Not Siloam's ruinous tower the victims slew,
  Because above the many sinn'd the few,
  Nor here the fated lightning wreaked its rage
  By vengeance sent for crimes matur'd by age.
  For whilst the thunder's awful voice was heard,
  The little suppliant with its hands uprear'd,
  Addressed her God in prayers the priest had taught,
  His mercy craved, and His protection sought;
  Learn reader hence that wisdom to adore,
  Thou canst not scan and fear His boundless power;
  Safe shalt thou be if thou perform'st His will,
  Blest if he spares, and more blest should He kill.

A lover at York inscribed the following lines to his sweetheart, who was
accidentally drowned, December 24, 1796:--

  Nigh to the river Ouse, in York's fair city,
  Unto this pretty maid death shew'd no pity;
  As soon as she'd her pail with water fill'd
  Came sudden death, and life like water spill'd.

An accidental death is recorded on a tombstone in Burton Joyce churchyard,
placed to the memory of Elizabeth Cliff, who died in 1835:--

  This monumental stone records the name
  Of her who perished in the night by flame
  Sudden and awful, for her hoary head;
  She was brought here to sleep amongst the dead.
  Her loving husband strove to damp the flame
  Till he was nearly sacrificed the same.
  Her sleeping dust, tho' by thee rudely trod,
  Proclaims aloud, prepare to meet thy God.

We are told that a tombstone in Creton churchyard states:--

  On a Thursday she was born,
  On a Thursday made a bride,
  On a Thursday put to bed,
  On a Thursday broke her leg, and
  On a Thursday died.

From Ashburton we have the following:--

  Here I lie, at the chancel door,
  Here I lie, because I'm poor;
  The farther in, the more you pay,
  Here I lie as warm as they.

In the churchyard of Kirk Hallam, Derbyshire, a good specimen of a true
Englishman is buried, named Samuel Cleater, who died May 1st, 1811, aged
65 years. The two-lined epitaph has such a genuine, sturdy ring about it,
that it deserves to be rescued from oblivion:--

  True to his King, his country was his glory,
  When Bony won, he said it was a story.

A monument in Bakewell church, Derbyshire is a curiosity, blending as it
does in a remarkable manner, business, loyalty, and religion:--

    To the memory of MATTHEW STRUTT, of this town, farrier, long famed in
    these parts for veterinary skill. A good neighbour, and a staunch
    friend to Church and King. Being Churchwarden at the time the present
    peal of bells were hung, through zeal for the house of God, and
    unremitting attention to the airy business of the belfry, he caught a
    cold, which terminated his existence May 25, 1798, in the 68th year of
    his age.

In Tideswell churchyard, among several other singular gravestone
inscriptions, the following occurs, and is worth reprinting:--

             In Memory of
      who died 22nd December, 1795,
             Aged 17 years.

  Come honest sexton, with thy spade,
  And let my grave be quickly made;
  Make my cold bed secure and deep,
  That, undisturbed, my bones may sleep,
  Until that great tremendous day,
  When from above a voice shall say,--
  "Awake, ye dead, lift up your eyes,
  Your great Creator bids you rise!"
  Then, free from this polluted dust,
  I hope to be amongst the just.


The old church of St. Mary's, Sculcoates, Hull, contains several
interesting monuments, and we give a sketch of one, a quaint-looking mural
memorial, having on it an inscription in short-hand. In Sheahan's "History
of Hull," the following translation is given:--

    In the vault beneath this stone lies the body of Mrs. JANE DELAMOTH,
    who departed this life, 10th January, 1761. She was a poor sinner, but
    not wicked without holiness, departing from good works, and departed
    in the Faith of the Catholic Church, in full assurance of eternal
    happiness, by the agony and bloody sweat, by the cross and passion, by
    the precious death and burial, by the glorious resurrection and
    ascension of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, Amen.

We believe that the foregoing is a unique epitaph, at all events we have
not heard of or seen any other monumental inscription in short-hand.

The following curious epitaph is from Wirksworth, Derbyshire:--

                  Near this place lies the body of
                        PHILIP SHULLCROSS,

    Once an eminent Quill-driver to the attorneys in this Town. He died
    the 17th of Nov. 1787, aged 67.

    Viewing Philip in a moral light, the most prominent and remarkable
    features in his character were his zeal and invincible attachment to
    dogs and cats, and his unbounded benevolence towards them, as well as
    towards his fellow-creatures.

        TO THE CRITIC.

        Seek not to show the devious paths Phil trode,
        Nor tear his frailties from their dread abode,
        In modest sculpture let this tombstone tell,
        That much esteem'd he lived, and much regretted fell.

At Castleton, in the Peak of Derbyshire, is another curious epitaph,
partly in English and partly in Latin, to the memory of an attorney-at-law
named Micah Hall, who died in 1804. It is said to have been penned by
himself, and is more epigrammatic than reverent. It is as follows:--

            The memory of
       MICAH HALL, Gentleman,
  Who died on the 14th of May, 1804,
            Aged 79 years.

          Quid eram, nescitis;
          Quid sum, nescitis;
          Ubi abii, nescitis;

This verse has been rendered thus:--

  What I was you know not--
  What I am you know not--
  Whither I am gone you know not--
    Go about your business.

In Sarnesfield churchyard, near Weobley, is the tombstone of John Abel,
the celebrated architect of the market-houses of Hereford, Leominster,
Knighton, and Brecknock, who died in the year 1694, having attained the
ripe old age of ninety-seven. The memorial stone is adorned with three
statues in kneeling posture, representing Abel and his two wives; and also
displayed are the emblems of his profession--the rule, the compass, and
the square--the whole being designed and sculptured by himself. The
epitaph, a very quaint one, was also of his own writing, and runs thus:--

  This craggy stone a covering is for an architector's bed;
  That lofty buildings raisèd high, yet now lyes low his head;
  His line and rule, so death concludes, are lockèd up in store;
  Build they who list, or they who wist, for he can build no more.

            His house of clay could hold no longer,
            May Heaven's joy build him a stronger.
                         JOHN ABEL.
              Vive ut vivas in vitam æternam.

The following inscription copied from a monument at Darfield, near
Barnsley, records a murder which occurred on the spot where the stone is

           To the Memory of
      Who was murdered at Darfield,
      On the 11th of October, 1841.

  At midnight drear by this wayside
  A murdered man poor DEPLEDGE died,
  The guiltless victim of a blow
  Aimed to have brought another low,
  From men whom he had never harmed
  By hate and drunken passions warmed.
  Now learn to shun in youth's fresh spring
  The courses which to ruin bring.

The following singular verse occurs upon a tombstone contiguous to the
chancel door in Grindon churchyard, near Leek, Staffordshire:--

  Farewell, dear friends; to follow me prepare;
  Also our loss we'd have you to beware,
  And your own business mind. Let us alone,
  For you have faults great plenty of your own.
  Judge not of us, now We are in our Graves
  Lest ye be Judg'd and awfull Sentence have;
  For Backbiters, railers, thieves, and liars,
  Must torment have in Everlasting Fires.

Bibliography of Epitaphs.

Addison, Joseph. Westminster Abbey, the _Spectator_, Nos. 26 and 329.

Alden, Rev. Timothy. A Collection of American Epitaphs; New York, 1814,
12mo., 5 vols.

Andrews, William, F.R.H.S. Gleanings from Yorkshire Graveyards, _Yorkshire
Magazine_, vol. 2, pp. 95-6; Epitaphs on Sportsmen, _Illustrated Sporting
and Dramatic News_, July 24th and 31st, 1880. Curious Epitaphs,
_Chambers's Journal_, vol. 55, pp. 570-572. Many articles in the
_Argonaut_, _Eastern Morning News_, _Fireside_, _Hand and Heart_, _Hull
Miscellany_, _Hull News_, _Long Ago_, _Newcastle Courant_, _Notes and
Queries_, _Notes about Notts._, _Nottingham Daily Guardian_, _Oldham
Chronicle_, _Press News_, _Reliquary_, _Whitaker's Journal_,
_Yorkshireman_, and about fifty other London magazines and provincial

Anthologia: A Collection of Ludicrous Epitaphs and Epigrams; 1807, 12mo.

Appleby, Henry Calvert, Hull. Shakespeare and Epitaphs. "Miscellanea,"
edited by William Andrews, F.R.H.S., pp. 28-32.

Archer, Capt. J. H. Lawrence. The Monumental Inscriptions of the British
West Indies, from the earliest date, with Genealogical and Historical
Annotations from original, local, and other sources, illustrative of the
Histories and Genealogies of the 17th and 18th Centuries. London: Chatto
and Windus, 1875, 4to.

    Capt. Archer collected these epitaphs during the years 1858 and
    1864-5, in the colonies of Jamaica and Barbadoes. The above is a very
    interesting volume.

Asiaticus: Sketches of Bengal, Epitaphs in Burial Grounds round Calcutta.
Calcutta, 1803, 8vo, 2 parts in 1 vol.

Bancroft, Thos. Two Books of Epigrammes and Epitaphs, Dedicated to two Top
Branches of Gentry: Sir Charles Shirley, Bart., and William Davenport,
Esq. London: printed by J. Okes, for Matthew Walbancke, and are to be sold
at his shop in Grayes-Inne-gate, 1639, 4to, 86 pp.

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beautiful Depository of the Dead; with Historical Sketches of Stoke
Newington. London, n.d. [1869], 8vo.

[Benham, Mrs. Edward]. Among the Tombs of Colchester. Colchester: Benham
and Co., 1880, 8vo, 76 pp.

Blacker, Rev. Beaver Henry, M.A. Monumental Inscriptions in the Parish
Church of Cheltenham. London, 1877, 4to. Privately Printed.

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Blanchard, L. The Cemetery at Kensal Green: the Grounds and Monuments.
London: 1843, 8vo.

Booth, Rev. John, M.A. Metrical Epitaphs, Ancient and Modern. London and
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upwards of six hundred original Epitaphs; Moral, Admonitory, Humorous, and
Satirical. London, 1791, 12mo.

[Boyd, Rev. A. K. H.] Concerning Churchyards; by A. K. H. B. _Fraser's
Magazine_, vol. 58, pp. 47-59.

Boyd, H. S. Tributes to the Dead, in a series of Ancient Epitaphs
translated from the Greek, 1826, 12mo.

Brown, James, Keeper of the Grounds, and author of the "Deeside Guide."
The Epitaphs and Monumental Inscriptions in Grey Friars' Churchyard,
Edinburgh; collected by James Brown. Compiled and Edited [by J. Moodie
Miller], with an Introduction by D[avid] L[aing, LL.D.] Edinburgh: J.
Moodie Miller, 1867; 8vo, pp. lxxxiv-360, (and 23 illustrations.)

Caldwell, Thomas. A Select Collection of Ancient and Modern Epitaphs and
Inscriptions. London, 1796, 12mo.

Cansick, Frederick Teague. A Collection of Curious and Interesting
Epitaphs copied from the Monuments of Distinguished and Noted Characters
in the Ancient Church and Burial Grounds of St. Pancras, Middlesex.
London: J. R. Smith; 1869-72, 8vo, 2 vols.

Cemeteries, The, and Catacombs of Paris, _Quarterly Review_, vol. 21, pp.

Churchyard Gleanings, or, a Collection of Epitaphs and Monumental
Inscriptions. Derby: Published by Thomas Richardson; n.d., 8vo, 24 pp.,
and a large folding plate.

Churchyard Lyrist: consisting of five hundred original Inscriptions to
commemorate the dead; 1832.

Churchyard, The Seaside. _Household Words_, vol. 2, pp. 257-262.

Churchyard Wanderings. _Colburn's New Monthly Magazine_, vol. 5, pp.

Clark, Benjamin. Hand-book for Visitors to Kensal Green Cemetery. A new
edition, with additions. London: Masters, 1843, 12mo., pp. xvi-108.

Clay, Edward. An History and Topographical Description of Framlingham,
Interspersed with explanatory notes, poetical extracts, and translations
of the Latin Inscriptions. Halesworth, n.d. [1810], 8vo, 144 pp., with two
plates of the Castle.

Cobbe, Frances Power. French and English Epitaphs. _Temple Bar_, vol. 22,
pp. 349-357.

Collinson, G. Cemetery Interments. London: Longman, 1840.

Counties of England, The, and their Quaint Old Lays and Epitaphs. _Tait's
Edinburgh Magazine_, N.S., vol. 26, pp. 399-400.

    The epitaphs in this article are collected from "Ye New and Complete
    British Traveller."

Croft, H. J., Guide to Kensal Green Cemetery, new edition. London, 1867,

Crull, Jodocus, M.D. The Antiquities of St. Peter's, or the Abbey Church
of Westminster: containing all the Inscriptions, Epitaphs, &c., upon the
Tombs and Gravestones; London, 1711, 8vo. Second edition, London, 1715,
8vo; third edition, vol. 1, edited by H. S., vol. 2, by J. R., London,
1722, 8vo, 2 vols.; fourth edition, London, 1741, 8vo, 2 vols.; fifth
edition, London, 1742, 8vo, 2 vols.

Dart, Rev. John. The History and Antiquities of the Cathedral Church of
Canterbury, And the Once-Adjoining Monastery, &c.; London: Printed and
sold by J. Cole, Engraver, at the Crown in Great Kirby St., Hatton
Garden, and J. Hoddle, Engraver, in Bridewell Precinct, near Fleet Bridge,
MDCCXXVI, fol., pp. ix-204; Appendix, pp. i-lvi, [With Illustrations.]

    There is, in the above history, (pp. 39-91), a survey of the monuments
    in Canterbury Cathedral, with the inscriptions on the monuments and
    tombstones, and 27 plates.

[Diprose, John]. Diprose's Book of Epitaphs: Humorous, Eccentric, Ancient,
and Remarkable. London: Diprose and Bateman, Lincoln's Inn Fields, n.d.,
[1879, 1880], 8vo, 80 pp.

Duncan, Andrew, M.D., M.P. Monumental Inscriptions selected from the
Burial Grounds at Edinburgh; 1815, 8vo, 108 pp.

E., D. Stray Thoughts on Monumental Inscriptions. _Christian Observer_,
vol. 6, pp. 609-619.

Epigrams and Epigraphs, by the author of "Proverbial Folk-Lore," n.d.,
8vo, 176 pp.

Epitaph, _Encyclopædia Brittannica_, eighth edition, vol. 9, pp. 282-283;
ninth edition, pp. 493-496.

----, _Penny Encyclopædia_, vol. 9, pp. 482-483.

Epitaphial Memorablia. _Dublin University Magazine_, vol. 55, pp. 580-585.

Epitaphs. _Chambers's Journal_, vol. 46, pp. 124-126.

----, Ancient and Modern,--_Chambers's Journal_, vol. 37, pp. 141-143.

----, Ancient and Modern in four parts; n.d., 8vo.

----, Bibliographical, _The Bibliographer_, vol. 1, pp. 81-82.

    In this article there are epitaphs on Caxton, John Daye, Christopher
    Barker, John Foster, first printer of Boston, U.S., John Baskerville,
    Adam Williamson, and Rev. John Cotton.

----, Collection of, and Inscriptions, 1802, 12mo.

----, Collection of, A, and Monumental Inscriptions. Historical,
Biographical, Literary, and Miscellaneous; with an Essay by Samuel
Johnson, LL.D., London: 1806, 12mo., 2 vols.

----, Collection, A, of Curious and Interesting, copied from the existing
monuments of distinguished and noted characters in the Churches and
Churchyards of Hornsey, Tottenham, Enfield, Edmonton, Barnet, and Hadley,
in the county of Middlesex, 1875, 8vo, with plates and arms.

----, On, and Elegiac Inscriptions. _Dublin University Magazine_, vol. 40,
pp. 206-212.

----, Original Collection, An, of Extant Epitaphs, gathered by a
'Commercial' in Spare Moments. London: Maiben, 1870, 8vo.

----, Original and Selected, with an Historical and Moral Essay on the
subject; by a Clergyman, 1840, 8vo.

----, Scriptural, London: Smith and Elder, 1847, 18mo.

----, Select Collection of, A, not to be found in any other; dedicated to
the Archbishops and Bishops. London, 1754, 8vo.

----, Some Curious, _Chambers's Journal_, vol. 57, pp. 666-668.

----, Traders', _Chambers's Journal_, vol. 50, pp. 377-379.

---- and Epigrams. _The Norfolk Garland_, 1872, 8vo, pp. 142-147.
[Epitaphs on W. Slater, the Yarmouth Stage Coachman, Micaiah Sage, Sir
Thomas Hare, Bart., Beatrice, wife of John Guavor, John Dowe, Thomas Allyn
and his two wives, Robert Gilbert, Prebendary J. Spendlove and his wife,
Richard Corbet, D.D., William Inglott, Organist of Norwich Cathedral, Tom

---- and Epigrams, Curious, Quaint, and Amusing, from various sources.
London: Palmer, 1869, 12mo., 120 pp.

Fairley, W., F.S. S., Mining Engineer. Epitaphiana: or, The Curiosities of
Churchyard Literature. Being a Miscellaneous Collection of Epitaphs. With
an Introduction, giving an account of the various customs prevailing
amongst the Ancients and Moderns in the Disposal of their Dead. London:
Samuel Tinsley, 1873, 8vo, pp. viii-171.

Fisher, P., The Catalogue of most of the Memorable Tombes, Grave-stones,
Plates, Escutcheons, or Atchievements in the demolisht or yet extant
Churches of London, from St. Katherine's beyond the Tower to Temple Barre.
London, 1668, 4to. There were two other editions of this work published in
1670, and 1684. The Tombes, Monuments, and Sepulchral Inscriptions, lately
visible in St. Paul's Cathedral, and St. Faith's under it, completely
rendered in Latin and English, with several discourses on sundry persons
entombed therein. London, 1684, 4to.

Frobisher, Nathaniel. New Select Collection of Epitaphs; Humorous,
Whimsical, Moral, and Satyrical. "The House appointed for all living,"
Job. [Round a view of a church and churchyard]. London: Printed for
Nathaniel Frobisher, in the Pavement, York; n.d., [1790], 8vo, 216 pp.,
[With an engraved title].

Gardiner, Richard. An Elegy on the Death of Lady Asgill, Lady of Sir
Charles Asgill, Knt., and Alderman of London; to which is added, An
Epitaph on the late Sir Edmund Bacon, Bart., of Gillingham, in the county
of Norfolk. London, 1754, fol.

Garrick, David. Epitaphs on Claudy Philips, A Lady's Bullfinch, A
Clergyman, William Hogarth, James Quin, Sterne, Mr. Holland, Mr. Beighton,
Whitehead, Howard. _Poetical Works_, 1785, 12mo., 2 vols., vol. 2, pp.

Gibson, James. Inscriptions on the Tombstones and Monuments erected in
Memory of the Covenanters. With Historical Introduction and Notes.
Glasgow: Dunn and Wright, 176 Buchanan St., n.d. [1879], 12mo., pp.
viii-291. [With five plates].

    The above interesting sketches were written for the _Ardrossan and
    Saltcoats Herald_, and appeared in that paper during the spring and
    summer of 1875.

Graham, William. A Collection of Epitaphs and Monumental Inscriptions,
Ancient and Modern; with an Emblematical Frontispiece, [Lanercost Priory,
Camb.]. Second edition; London: for T. and J. Allman, 1823, 8vo, pp.

Hackett, John, late Commoner of Balliol College, Oxford. Select and
Remarkable Epitaphs on Illustrious and other Persons in Several Parts of
Europe. With Translations of such as are in Latin and Foreign Languages.
And Compendious Accounts of the Deceased, their Lives and Works. London:
Printed for T. Osborne and J. Shipton, in Gray's Inn, 1757, 8vo, 2 vols.,
pp. 288, 246, and Indexes, (22 pp.)

Hall-Stevenson, John. Works: containing Crazy Tales, Fables for grown
Gentlemen, Lyric Epistles, Pastoral Cordial, Pastoral Puke, Macarony
Fables, Monkish Epitaphs. London, 1793-5, 8vo, 3 vols.

Hare, Augustus J. C. Epitaphs for Country Churchyards, Collected and
Arranged. Oxford: Parker and Co., 1856, 12mo., 70 pp.

Harrison, Rev. F. Bayford, Churchyard Poetry, _Macmillan's Magazine_, vol.
47, pp. 296-302.

Henney, William, of Hammersmith. A New and Improved Edition of Moral and
Interesting Epitaphs, and Remarkable Monumental Inscriptions in England
and America, to which are added Poems on Life, Death, and Eternity.
Printed for and sold only by the Editor. Ninth edition, with additions,
n.d., 8vo, 60 pp.; another edition, 1814, 12mo.

Hervey, James, M.A. Meditations among the Tombs. In a Letter to a Lady.
_Meditations and Contemplations_, 1779, 8vo, 2 vols., vol 1, pp. 1-112.

Huddersford, George, M.A. The Uricamical Chaplet, a Selection of Original
Poetry; comprising smaller Poems, Serious and Comic, Classical Trifles,
Sonnets, Inscriptions and Epitaphs, Songs and Ballads, Mock-Heroic
Epigrams, Fragments, &c. London, 1805, 8vo.

Inscriptions upon the Tombs and Gravestones in the Dissenters' Burial
Place, near Bunhill Fields. London, 1717, 8vo.

J., W. Illustrated Guide to Kensal Green Cemetery. London, 1861, 8vo.

[James, J. A.] Bunhill Memorials; Sacred Reminiscences of three hundred
Ministers and other Persons of note who are buried in Bunhill Fields, of
every Denomination, with the Inscriptions on their Tombs and Gravestones.
1849, 8vo.

Jones, James, Gent. Sepulchrorum Inscriptiones: or, a Curious Collection
of above Nine Hundred of the most Remarkable Epitaphs, Antient and Modern,
Serious and Merry; In the Kingdoms of Great Britain, Ireland, &c. In
English Verse. Faithfully collected. Westminster, 1727, 8vo.

Johnson, Samuel, LL.D. An Essay on Epitaphs. _Gentleman's Magazine_, vol.
10, pp. 593-596. Also included in his Works, Edited by Arthur Murphy,
1792, 12 vols., 8vo, vol. ii, pp. 270-280.

    Essay on Pope's Epitaphs. "Lives of the Most Eminent Poets." [1801],
    vol. 3, pp. 199-217.

      This Essay was first contributed to _The Universal Visitor_, and
      afterwards included in the "Lives of the Poets," where it is placed
      at the end of the Life of Pope, and is reprinted in the "Works of
      Dr. Johnson," [vol. xi, pp. 199-216].

Kelke, W. H. Churchyard Manual, with Five Hundred Epitaphs. London, Cox,
1854, 8vo.

Kensal Green, The Cemetery at, the Grounds and Monuments, with a Memoir of
the Duke of Sussex, n.d., 8vo, with illustrations.

Kippax, J. R. Churchyard Literature: Choice Collection of American
Epitaphs. Chicago, 1876, 12mo.

Last Homes of the Londoners, _Chambers's Journal_, vol. 37, pp. 406-408.

Loaring, Henry James. Epitaphs: Quaint, Curious, and Elegant. With Remarks
on the Obsequies of Various Nations. Compiled and Collated. London:
William Tegg, n.d. [1872], 8vo, pp. vi-262.

M'Dowall, William. Memorials of St. Michael's, the Old Parish Churchyard
of Dumfries, 1876, 8vo, pp. ix-446. [With a frontispiece (St. Michael's
Church and Churchyard) and vignette title].

    This is a most valuable local work.

Macgregor, Major Robert Guthrie, of the Bengal Retired List. Epitaphs from
the Greek Anthology. Translated. London: Nissen and Parker, 1857, 8vo, 230

Macrae, D. Queer Epitaphs. Book of Blunders. London: Simpkin, Marshall,
and Co., 1872.

Maitland, Charles, M.D. The Church in the Catacombs: a Description of the
Primitive Church of Rome, Illustrated by its Sepulchral Remains. London:
Longman, Brown, Green, and Longman. 1846, 8vo, 312 pp., with

    Chapter III. of this work gives an interesting account of the
    Catacombs as a Christian Cemetery.

Memorials of the Dead, The Journal of the Society for Preserving the, in
the Churches and Churchyards of Great Britain. Norwich: Samuel Sayer,
1883, 8vo, Nos. 1-4. (continued).

    A Quarterly Magazine of twenty-four pages.

Mills, J., of Cowbit, Lincolnshire. Verses, Odes, &c., on Spalding, and
Letters and Epitaphs, addressed to various persons and subjects, n.d.,
4to, 42 pp.

Monteith, Robert, M.A. A Theatre of Mortality: or, the Illustrious
Inscriptions extant upon the Monuments in the Grey Friars' Church Yard,
&c., in Edinburgh and its Suburbs. Edinburgh, 1704.

    A Further Collection of Funeral Inscriptions over Scotland. Edinburgh,
    1713, small 8vo, 2 vols.

Neve, John Le. Monumenta Anglicana: being Inscriptions on the Monuments of
several Eminent Persons. London, 1717-19, 8vo, 5 vols.

    Lives, The, Characters, Deaths, Burials and Epitaphs, &c., of all the
    Protestant Bishops of the Church of England, since the Reformation as
    settled by Queen Elizabeth, A.D., 1559. London, 1731, 8vo, vol. 1, in
    two parts; part 1, 268 pp., part 2, 288 pp.

Norfolk, Horatio Edward. Gleanings in Graveyards: a Collection of Curious
Epitaphs. London: J. R. Smith, 1861, 12mo., 172 pp.; Second edition, 1861,
12mo., 172 pp.; Third edition, revised and enlarged, 1866, 12mo., 228 pp.

Northend, Charles. A Book of Epitaphs. New York, 1873, 12mo., 171 pp.

Norwood Cemetery, a Descriptive Sketch, with Copies of the Inscriptions,
etc., 1847, 8vo, 42 pp., with many cuts.

Orchard, R. A New Selection of Epitaphs and Remarkable Monumental
Inscriptions. Second edit., 1827, 12mo.

Parr, Samuel, D.D. Latin Inscriptions, _Works, Edited by J. Johnstone,
M.D._, vol. iv, pp. 559-655; English Inscriptions, ib. pp. 656-676;
Illustrations of the Preceding Inscriptions, ib. pp. 677-720; and
Correspondence Illustrative of the Inscriptions, vol. viii., pp. 555-656.

Parish Minister, A, Verses for Graves Stones in Churchyards. London, 1816,

Parsons, Rev. Philip, M.A. The Monuments and Painted Glass of upwards of
one hundred Churches, chiefly in the Eastern Part of Kent; most of which
were examined by the Editor in person, and the rest communicated by the
resident clergy. With an Appendix, containing three Churches in other
counties [Hadleigh and Lavenham, Suffolk, and Dedham, Essex.] To which is
added a small Collection of detached Epitaphs, with a few notes on the
whole. Canterbury, 1794, 4to, pp. viii-549, with errata and indexes, 4
pages, pp. 424-8, omitted.

    Mr. Parsons died at the College, at Wye, in 1812, at the age of

Peck, Francis, M.A. Desiderata Curiosa: or, a Collection of Divers Scarce
and Curious Pieces relating chiefly to Matters of English History;
consisting of Choice Tracts, Memoirs, Letters, Wills, Epitaphs, &c.
Transcribed, many of them, from the originals themselves, and the rest
from divers Ancient MS. copies, or the MS. Collections of Sundry Famous
Antiquaries and other Eminent Persons, both of the last and present Age.
The whole as far as possible digested into an order of time, and
illustrated with ample Notes, Contents, Additional Discourses, and a
complete Index. Adorned with cuts. A new edition, greatly corrected, with
some Memoirs of the Life and Writing of Mr. Peck. London: Printed for
Thomas Evans in the Strand, MDCCLXXIX., 2 vols., 4to. [With portrait and
nine plates.]

Peirse, C. G. B. Riddles, Epitaphs, and Bon Mots. Designed by C. Grace,
1873, 4to.

Pettigrew, Thomas Joseph, F.R.S., F.S.A. Chronicles of the Tombs. A Select
Collection of Epitaphs, Preceded by an Essay on Epitaphs and other
Monumental Inscriptions, with Incidental Observations on Sepulchral
Antiquities. (Bohn's Antiq. Lib.,) 1857, 8vo, pp. v-529.

Pope, Alexander, Epitaphs on Charles, Earl of Dorset; Sir William Trumbal;
Hon. S. Harcourt; James Craggs; Nicholas Rowe; Mrs. Corbet; Hon. Robert
and Mary Digby; Sir G. Kneller; Gen. Henry Withers; Elijah Fenton; Mr.
Gay; Sir I. Newton; F. Atterbury, D.D.; Edmund, Duke of Buckingham.
_Works, edited by Bishop Warburton_, 1770, 8vo, 9 vols. Vol. vi, pp.

Preparing for the End. _Chambers's Journal_, vol. 49, pp. 229-232.

Pulleyn, William, Church-Yard Gleanings and Epigrams. London, n.d., [1830]

[Ranken, Peter]. Epitaphs: or, Church-yard Gleanings. "Better to have a
bad Epitaph when dead, than their ill report while living."--_Hamlet._
Collected by Old Mortality, jun. London: Bemrose and Sons, and Ranken and
Co. n.d. [1874] 8vo, 184 pp.

Richings, Benjamin. Original and Selected Epitaphs, with Essays. London:
Parker and Son, 1840. post 8vo.

Robinson, Joseph R., Sculptor, Derby. Epitaphs, Collected from the
Cemeteries of London, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Hull, Leicester, Sheffield,
Manchester, Nottingham, Birmingham, Derby, &c. With Original and Selected
Epitaphs by Tennyson, Longfellow, Montgomery, Mrs. Hemans, Eliza Cook,
Wordsworth, Robert Nicholl, Chas. Mackay, Milman, Mrs. Norton, J. B.
Langley, Mrs. Sigourney, Mrs. Barbauld, Bernard, G. W. Longstaff, Alaric
Watts, &c. The whole collected and arranged. London, Atchley, 1859, 12mo.,
208 pp.

Rogers, Rev. Charles, LL.D. Monuments and Monumental Inscriptions in
Scotland. Printed for the Grampian Club, 1871, 8vo, 2 vols.

    "Dr. Rogers has not merely collected the epitaphs and inscriptions on
    the tombstones and monuments of Scotland, but he often gives
    illustrative particulars of a biographical and historical character.
    For this and similar things, his work must become a standard book of
    reference."--_Glasgow Star._

S., H. L., and L. S. M. Epitaphs collected from Holy Writ, and our best
Authors on Sacred Subjects. Arranged and edited by G. B. Chaloner. London:
Atchley, 1868, 12mo. 200 pp.

Sanderson, Robert. Lincoln Cathedral; an exact copy of all the Ancient
Monumental Inscriptions there, as they stood in MDCXLI; collected. And
compared with and corrected by Sir William Dugdale's MS. Survey. London,
1851, 8vo.

Simpson, Joseph. A Collection of Curious, Interesting, and Facetious
Epitaphs, Monumental Inscriptions, &c. London: Published and sold by
Joseph Simpson; 1854, 8vo, 48 pp.

Smart, Christopher. Poems on Several Occasions, viz., Munificence and
Modesty; Female Dignity; To Lady Hussey Delaval; Verses from Catullus;
After Dining with Mr. Murray; Epitaphs; &c. London, 1763, 4to.

Smith, W. Browning. Epitaph. _Encyclopædia Brit._, ninth edition, vol.
viii, pp. 493-496.

Snow, J. Lyra Memorialis; Original Epitaphs, &c., with an Essay by William
Wordsworth. London: Bell, 1847, 12mo.

    This is a second and an enlarged edition of his _Light in Darkness:
    Churchyard Thoughts_, which was published in 1844.

Tissington, Silvester. A Collection of Epitaphs and Monumental
Inscriptions on the most Illustrious Persons of all Ages and Countries;
1857, 8vo, 530 pp.

Toldervy, William. Select Epitaphs. London: Owen, 1755, 8vo, 2 vols.

Tombs, Among the. _Household Words_, vol. 17, pp. 372-375.

Tombstones, Inscriptions on. _Christian Remembrancer_, vol. 6, pp. 421.

Trowsdale, Thomas Broadbent, F.R.H.S. A Visit to the Old Burial Ground in
Castle Street, Hull. Hull: Printed and Published by J. M. Taylor, 1878,
8vo, 8 pp.

    Reprinted from _The Hull Miscellany_.

Wake, H. T. All the Monumental Inscriptions in the graveyards of Brigham
and Bridekirk, near Cockermouth, in the County of Cumberland, from 1666 to
1876. Cockermouth, 1878, 8vo.

Walker, G. A., Surgeon. Gatherings from Grave Yards, Particularly those of
London: With a concise History of the Modes of Interment Among different
Nations, from the earliest periods. And a Detail of dangerous and fatal
results produced by the unwise and revolting custom of inhuming the Dead
in the midst of the Living. London: Longman and Co.; Nottingham, J.
Hicklin; 1839, 8vo, pp. xvii-258. [With an engraved title.]

Webb, T. A New Select Collection of Epitaphs: Panegyrical and Moral,
Humorous, Whimsical, Satyrical, and Inscriptive. London, 1775, 12mo., 2

Weever, John. Ancient Funerall Monuments within the United Monarchie of
Great Britaine, Ireland, and the Ilands adiacent, with the dissolved
Monasteries therein contained; their Founders, and what eminent persons
have beene in the same interred; As also the Death and buriall of certaine
of the Bloud Roiall, the Nobilitie, and Gentrie of these Kingdomes
entombed in forraine Nations, with other matters mentioned in the insuing
Title. Composed by the Travels and Studie of John Weever. Spe labor leuis.
London: Printed by Tho: Harper, MDCXXXI. And are to be sold in Little
Britayne by Laurence Sadler at the signe of the Golden Lion. Fol., 871 pp.
[With Portrait and Engraved Title.]

Westminster Abbey, The History and Antiquities of, and Henry VII's Chapel;
their Tombs, Ancient Monuments, and Inscriptions, &c. Illustrated. London,
1856, 4to.

Wignell, J. A Collection of Original Pieces: consisting of Poems,
Prologues, Epilogues, Songs, Epistles, Epitaphs, &c. London, 1762, 8vo.

Winchester Cathedral. Historical and Critical Account of, with a review of
the Monuments; 1801, 8vo, 148 pp.


  Abdidge, John, 37.

  Abel, John, 155.

  Aberfeldy, Perthshire, 75.

  Abesford, 63.

  Adams, John, 39.

  Adams's, W. Davenport, "Dict. of Eng. Literature," quoted, 136.

  Adlington, 63, 64.

  Aliscombe, Devon., 45.

  Andrews's, W., "Historic Romance," quoted, 101.

  Anne, Queen, 76.

  Appleby, H. C., quoted, 128.

  Ardwick Cemetery, 98.

  Ashburton, 151.

  Ashford, Mr., 139.

  ----, Mary, Booker's epitaph on, 138.

  Ashover, Derby., 94.

  Audley's _Companion to the Almanac_, quoted, 62.

  Ault Hucknall, Derby., 22.

  Axon's, W. E. A., "Lancashire Gleanings," quoted, 137.

  Aylesbury, 39.

  Bacchanalian Epitaphs, 54.

  Bagshaw, Samuel, 46.

  Bakers, Company of, 50.

  Bakewell, Derby., 3-6, 133, 152.
    Church, 3, 4.

  Ball's, H. W. "The Social Hist. and Antiqs. of Barton-on-Humber,"
        quoted, 147.

  Barbadoes, 36.

  Barber, John, 127.

  Bardesley's, Rev. C. W. "Memorials of St. Anne's Church, Manchester,"
       quoted, 53.

  Barker, Christopher, 19.

  Barnstaple, 89.

  Barrow-on-Soar, Leicester., 88.

  Barton-on-Humber, 146-148;
    Ball's "Social Hist. and Antiqs. of," quoted, 147;
    King's Head Public House, 148;
    St. Peter's Churchyard, 146.

  Barwick-in-Elmet, Yorks., 76.

  Baskerville, John, 18.

  Bath, 96;
    Cathedral 97.

  Battersea, 67;
    The Church at, 67.

  Battle, Sussex, Collection of Smoke money in, 61.

  Becke, Rev. John, 86.

  Beckley, 100.

  Bede, Cuthbert, see Bradley, Rev. E., B.A.

  Belbroughton, Worcester., 7, 8;
    The Church at, 71.

  Bellem, Worcester. 7.

  Bellow, J. F., 116.

  Benson, Miss, 109.

  Berkely, Gloucester., 35.

  Berkshire, 131, 132.

  Beverley, Yorks., 98, 116;
    The Minster, 69, 91;
    St. Mary's Church, 98;
    Tablet of two Danish Soldiers at, 116.

  Biffin, Sarah, 124, 125;
    see also Wright, Mrs.

  Billinge, William, 65.

  Bingley, 11.

  Bingham, Notts., 3.

  Birmingham, 19.

  Birstal, 26.

  Blackett, John, 48.

  Bletchley, 89.

  Blidworth, 26-28;
    Archer's Water, 27;
    Forest, 29.

  Blidworth Rocking, 26, 28.

  Bloodworth, Sarah, see Dale, Sarah.

  Bodger, Samuel, 68.

  Bolsover, Derby., 35.

  Bolton, Lancashire, 120, 121.

  ----, Yorks., 112.

  Booker, Dr., epitaph on Mary Ashford, 138.

  Booth, Hannah, 92, 93.

  ----, John, 92, 93.

  ----, Tom, 24, 25.

  Bowes, Yorks., 145.

  Bradbury, Thomas, 139, 140.

  ----, William, 139, 140.

  Bradley, Rev. E., B.A., (Cuthbert Bede), quoted, 7.

  ----, W., the Yorkshire Giant, 121, 122.

  Breighmet, 121.

  Bremhill, Wiltshire, 66.

  Briscoe's, John D., "Hist. of Bolton," quoted, 120, 121.

  ----, J. Potter, 59, 141;
    "Nottinghamshire Facts and Fictions" quoted, 59.

  Bridgeford-on-the-Hill, Notts., 37.

  Bridgnorth, 21.

  Briggs, Hezekiah, 11.

  Brighton, 70, 73;
    Churchyard, 70;
    Marine Parade, 73.

  Bristol, 50.

  Broadbent, John, 12.

  Broomsgrove, 38.

  Brown's, C., "Annals of Newark-upon-Trent," quoted, 130.

  Buck, J., 102, 105.

  Buckett, John. 56, 57.

  Buller, Rev. H., 39.

  Bullingham, 45.

  Bunney, 29.

  Burbage, Rich., 107.

  Burkitt, Jonathan, 147, 148.

  Burns's, Robert, epitaph on John Dove, 58.

  Burton, 144.

  ----, Joyce. 151.

  Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk, 17, 69, 150.

  Butler, Samuel, 98.

  ----, Samuel, author of "Hudibras," 125, 126;
    O'Brien's epitaph on, 125;
    Wesley's epigram on, 126.

  ----, Samuel W., 98, 99.

  Buttress, Jas. Epps, 79.

  Byfleet, 105.

  Byng, Admiral, 77, 78.

  Byrne, Simon, 30.

  Byron's, Lord, epitaph on John Adams, 39;
    on John Blackett, 48.

  Bywater, Ann, 60.

  ----, John, 60.

  ----, John, son of above, 60.

  Cadman,, a famous "flyer," 101.

  Callow, Rev. William, 8.

  Campbell, Capt. Patrick, 75.

  Carlyle, Thomas, 80.

  Carmichael, Capt. James, 72.

  Caroline, Queen, 105.

  Carter, S., 30.

  Cartwright, Henry, 23.

  Castleton, Derby., 154.

  Catherine, Queen of Henry VIII., 10.

  Cave, --., 88.

  ----, Edward, sen., 42.

  ----, Edward, jun., 42.

  ----, Jos., 42.

  ----, William, 42.

  Cave, South, 140.

  Caxton, William, 14.

  Chapman's Dr. Thos., epitaph on Henry Jenkins, 112.

  Chambers's, Dr. Robert, "Book of Days," quoted, 9, 10, 101, 105;
    "Dom, Annals of Scotland," quoted, 114.

  _Chambers's Journal_, quoted, 111.

  Charles I., 113, 114, 128, 131.

  ---- II., 67, 113, 114, 133;
    and Butler's "Hudibras," 126.

  Charlton, John, 21.

  Chatham, 59.

  Checkley, Stafford., 85.

  Chelsea Hospital, 66, 73.

  Chepstow, Monmouth., 130-133;
    Castle, 131, 133;
    Church, 132.

  Cheshire, 111.

  Chest, Rev. --., 132.
    Downton's epitaph on, 132.

  Chester, 45.

  Chesterfield, Lord, 17.

  Chimney Money, see Smoke Money.

  Chiswick, 97.

  Clay, Hercules, 128, 129.

  ----, John, 63.

  ----, Mary, 63.

  ----, Thomas, 63, 64.

  Cleater, S,. 152.

  Clemetshaw, Henry, 91.

  Cliff, Elizabeth, 151.

  Clifton, Gloucester., 97.

  Clockmakers, The Company of, and the restoration of Harrison's tomb at
       Hampstead, 36.

  Cocks, Rev. Chas. S., 8.

  Cole, William, Dean of Lincoln, 87, 88.

  Collison, David, 81.

  Colton, Stafford., 46.

  Corby, Lincoln., 50.

  Corser, Annie, 134.

  ----, Henry, 134.

  Corsica, Theodore, King of, 135.

  Cotton, Rev. John, 16.

  Coventry, 20;
    St. Michael's Churchyard, 20, 29. 31.

  _Coventry Mercury_, quoted, 20.

  Crackles, Thomas, 80.

  Crayford, 1.

  Creton, 151.

  Crich, Derby., 43.

  Crompton, Jas., 121.

  ----, Mary, 121.

  Cromwell, Oliver, 113, 132.

  Cruker, John, 48.

  Culloden, 110.

  Dale, Elizabeth, (neé Foljambe), 133.

  ----, John, 133, 134.

  ----, Sarah, (neé Bloodworth) 133, 134.

  Danish Soldiers, Tablet of the, at Beverley, 116, 119.

  Darfield, Barnsley, 155.

  Darlington, 13.

  Darnbrough, William, 11, 12.

  Darneth, Dartford, 59.

  Dart, Rose, 89.

  Dartmoor, 33.

  Dartmouth, 76.

  Davidson, Lieut. Alex., 78.

  ----, Harriet, 78.

  Day, William, 86.

  Deal, 78.

  Deans, Jeannie, 27.

  Defoe's, Daniel, "Robinson Crusoe," quoted, 136.

  Delamoth, Mrs. Jane, 153.

  Depledge, Thos., 156.

  Dibdin, Rev. T. F., D.D., quoted, 10.

  Dickinson, Mr., 110.

  Dinsdale's, Dr. F., F.S.A., "Ballads and Songs of David Mallet," quoted,

  Dixon, George. 22.

  Dove, John, 58.

  Downton's epitaph on Rev. --., Chest, 132.

  Dublin, 16.

  Duck, S., 102, 105, 106;
    Swift's epigram on, 105.

  Dudley, Worcester, 138.

  Dundas, Lord, 108.

  Dunton, Bucks., 39.

  Eakring, Notts., 23.

  Easton, William, 80.

  Ecclesfield Churchyard, 23.

  Edinburgh, 17, 27.

  Edmonds, John, 77.

  Edwalton, 59.

  Edward VI., 113.

  Elizabeth, Queen, 19, 113, 114.

  Ellenborough, Lord, 139.

  Empedocles, quoted, 84.

    Miscellaneous, 150;
    Punning, 84;
    Typographical, 14;
    On Actors and Musicians, 90;
    Bakers, 49, 50;
    A Blacksmith, 43;
    Booksellers, 40-42;
    A Builder, 45;
    Carpenters, 46, 50;
    Carriers, 39;
    A Coachman, 39;
    A Dyer, 47;
    Engineers, 37-38;
    Gardeners, 51-52;
    A Mason, 46;
    Musicians and Actors, 90;
    Notable Persons, 108;
    Parish Clerks, 1;
    Potters, 44-5;
    Publicans, 54-56;
    Sailors and Soldiers, 65;
    Sextons and Parish Clerks, 1;
    Shoemakers, 48;
    Soldiers and Sailors, 65;
    Sportsmen, 21;
    Tradesmen, 33;
    Watchmakers, 33-37;
    Weavers, 47.

  Eton, 60.

  Evans's, John, "Life of S. W. Butler," quoted, 99.

  Eyre and Spottiswood, printers, 19.

  ----, Vincent, 141, 142;
    Briscoe's account of, 141.

  Falkirk, Scotland, 110.

  Faulder, George, alderman and printer of Dublin, 16, 17.

  Fawfield Head, Stafford., 65.

  Ferrensby, 111.

  Field, Joseph, 84, 85.

  ----, Theophilus, 85.

  FitzHerbert, Ralph, 7.

  FitzOsborne, William, 7.

  Flamborough Head, 82.

  Flixton, Lancash., 92.

  Flockton, Thos., 12, 13.

  Foljambe, Elizabeth, see Dale, Elizabeth.

  Folkestone, Kent, 61.

  Fort William Cemetery, 75.

  Fotheringay, 11.

  Foulby, Yorks., 36.

  Fountain Dale Cross, 28.

  Fox, Henry, 47.

  Franklin, Dr. Benjamin, 15, 16.

  ----, Deborah, 16.

  Freland, Mrs. 59.

  Garrick, David, 96;
    Epitaph on William Hogarth, 97, 98;
    on Jas. Quin, 97.

  Gedge, L., 17.

  _Gentleman's Magazine_, quoted, 5, 6, 42, 115.

  George II., 105.

  ---- III., 125.

  ---- IV., 70.

  Germany, 121.

  Gibraltar, 73.

  Gillingham, 99.

  Gloucester, 57.

  _Gloucester Notes and Queries_, quoted, 136.

  Gloucestershire, 127;
    St. Peter Abbey, 128.

  Goëthe, J. W., quoted, 80.

  Golding, Samuel, 73.

  ----, Phoebe, see Hessel.

  Goldsmith, Thos., 76.

  Grainge's, William, "Yorkshire Longevity," quoted, 111.

  Grantham, Lincoln., 147-148.

  Gray, Catherine, 45.

  ----, Robert, 49;
    his Hospital, 49.

  Greenfield, 139.

  Greenwich, Kent, 56;
    The Pig and Whistle Public House, 56.

  Griffiths, Geo., 68.

  Grindon, Stafford., 156.

  _Guardian, The_, quoted, 87.

  Guy, John, 127.

  Hackett, Robert, 22.

  Haddon Hall, Derby., 5.

  Haigh, Brian, 152.

  ----, John, 152.

  ----, Martha, 152.

  Hall, Micah, 154.

  Hamilton, 83.

  Hampstead, Middx., 35.

  Hampsthwaite, Yorks., 122.

  Hanslope, Bucks., 30.

  Harding-Booth, 46.

  Hardwick Park, 22.

  Harrison, John, the Inventor, 36.

  ----, William, 81.

  Harrogate, 109-111.

  Hart, Thomas, 3.

  Hartwith Chapel, Nidderdale, 11.

  Haselton, Mary. 150.

  Hawksworth's, Dr., epitaph on Joseph Cave, 42.

  Hayley, W., 43.

  Henry VII., 113.

  ---- VIII., 7, 113.

  Hereford, 85, 155;
    Cathedral, 85.

  Hessel, Phoebe, 70-75.

  Hessle, Hull, 47.

  Heywood, John, 46.

  Highgate Cemetery, 30.

  Hill, Otwell, D.D., 87.

  Hilton Castle, Durham, 101.

  Hilton's John. Fool, 101.

  Hinde, Thomas, 35.

  Hippisley, John, 97.

  Hiseland, William, 66.

  Hobson, --, University Carrier, 39-40.

  Hogarth, William, 97, 98, 101;
    Garrick's epitaph on, 97, 98.

  Horncastle, 83.

  Hornsea, 86.

  Howard, John, 53.

  Hughenden Churchyard, 127.

  Hulm, John, 20.

  Hurtle, F., 8.

  Hull, 60, 80, 84, 116, 119, 140;
    Castle Street Burial Ground, 60;
    Field, Jos., twice mayor of, 84, 85;
    Hessle Road Cemetery, 80;
    Holy Trinity Church, 84, 91;
    St. Mary's Church, Sculcoates, 153.

  Hythe Churchyard, Kent, epitaph on a Fishmonger in, 32.

  Indies, East, 73.

  Indies, West, 73.

  Inglott, William, 90.

  Ireland, 121.

  Isnell, Peter, 1, 2.

  Jackson, Thos., 100.

  James I., 113, 132.

  Jenkins, Henry, 112, 113;
    Dr. Chapman's epitaph on, 112-113.

  Jerrold's, D., epitaph on Chas. Knight, 107.

  Jewitt, Llewellynn, F.S.A., quoted, 3.

  Jobling, Mrs. C, 124.

  Jones, Edward, printer, 14, 15.

  ----, John, 128.

  Joy, Richard, "Kentish Samson," 123.

  Juan Fernandez, Island of, 135.

  Kettlethorpe, Lincoln., 86.

  Kew, Surrey, 105.

  Kimbolton Castle, Huntingdon, 10.

  Kingston, Duke of, 23.

  Kirk Hallam, Derby., 152.

  Knaresborough, 108, 109, 110;
    Blind Jack of, 108-111.

  Knight, Chas., Jerrold's epitaph on, 107.

  Knighton, South Wales, 155.

  Lackington, James, 41.

  Lambert, Daniel, the Lincolnshire Giant, 122, 123.

  ----, Geo., 91.

  Lambeth, 52.

  Lancashire, 111.

  Largo, Fife, 135.

  Leake, Thomas, 26-29.

  Leeds, 12.

  Leek, Stafford., 156.

  Leen, river, 24.

  Leicester, 122.

  Leominster, 155.

  Lillyard, Miss, 116.

  Lillyard's Edge, Battle of, 115.

  Lillington, Dorset., 87.

  Lillywhite, the Cricketer, 30.

  Lincoln, 87;
    Cathedral, 87.

  Lincolnshire, 142, 143.

  Lisbon, 36.

  Liverpool, 55, 124;
    St. James's Cemetery, 124.

  Llandaff, South Wales, 85.

  London, 27, 36, 39, 49, 57, 62, 101, 114, 121, 126, 127;
    Boar's Head Tavern, Great Eastcheap, 62;
    Covent Garden Churchyard, epitaph of John Taylor, the Water Poet in,
    King's Bench Prison, 135;
    King's College Hospital, 102;
    Phoenix Alley, 57;
    Portugal Street, 101;
    Red Lion Square, 36;
    St. Anne's Churchyard, Soho, 134;
    St. Clement Danes Burial ground, 101;
    St. Michael's Church, 62;
    St. Paul's Church, Covent Garden, 125;
    The Savoy, 14;
    Tothill Fields, 139;
    Westminster Abbey, 11, 14, 96, 126.

  Longnor, Stafford, 46, 65.

  Luton Churchyard, Bedford, 22.

  Lydford, Dartmoor, 33.

  Macbeth, John, 93, 94.

  McKay, Sandy, the Scottish Giant, 30.

  Malibran, Madame, 95.

  Mallet's ballad of "Edwin and Emma," quoted, 145-146;
    "Ballads and Songs," quoted, 146.

  Manchester, 110.

  "Manchester Lit. Club Papers," quoted, 99.

  Market Weighton, 121.

  Marlborough, Duke of, 65.

  Marten, Sir Henry, 132.

  ----, Henry, 131, 132, 133.

  Martin, John, 51.

  Mary, Queen, 113, 114.

  Masham, Yorks., 122;
    Swinton Hall, 122.

  Mauchline, Scotland, 58.

  Mawer, Hannah, 148.

  ----, Rev. John, D.D., 148.

  Maxton, Scotland, 116.

  Medford, Grace, 89.

  Merlin's Cave, Richmond Park, 105

  Melton-Mowbray, Leicester., 61.

  "Mercury Hawkers in Mourning, The," quoted, 15.

  Merrett, Thos., 133.

  Metcalf, John, Blind Jack of Knaresborough, 108-111.

  Micklehurst, Chester, 60.

  Middleditch, William, 69.

  Middleton Tyas, Richmond, 148.

  Miller, Joe, 101-105.

  Mills, John, 21.

  Minskip, 111.

  Morgan, Meredith, 92.

  Morley's Henry "Memoirs of Bartholomew Fair," quoted, 124-125.

  Morton, Earl of, 124, 125.

  Morville, Bridgnorth, 21.

  Mottram, Chester, 22.

  New Forest, Hants., Collection of Smoke Money in, 62.

  Newark, Notts., 128, 129.

  Newcastle-on-Tyne, 2;
    All Saints Church, 2.

  Newhaven, Sussex, 54.

  Newport, Monmouth., 93;
    Old Cemetery, The, 93.

  Newton, George, 22.

  Nidderdale, 11.

  Norris, Admiral, 73.

  Norwich, 90;
    Cathedral, 90.

  _Notes and Queries_, quoted, 62.

  Nottingham, 24;
    Park, 24;
    St. Nicholas' burial ground, 24.

  "Nottingham Date Book," quoted, 24.

  O'Brien's, Mr., epitaph on Samuel Butler, 125.

  Ockham, Surrey, 50.

  Okey, John, 121.

  Ollerton, Notts., 55.

  Orange, Prince of, 116.

  Orford, H. Walpole, Earl of, 134.

  Osborne, --, 7.

  Ostler, Miss, 148.

  Oxford, 48;
    Ashmolean Museum, 52.

  Pady, James, 45.

  Pannal, Yorks., 55.


  Parker, --, engine-driver, 39.

  Parkes, John, 29, 30.

  Parkyns, Thomas, 29

  Parr, Edward, 69.

  Pateley Bridge Church registers, 12.

  Pausanias, 84.

  Pearce, Dickey, Dean Swift's epitaph on, 100.

  ----, General, 73.

  Pegge, Rev. Samuel, 6.

  Peirce, Thomas, watchmaker, 35.

  Pennecuik's, Alex., epitaph on Marjory Scott, 114, 115.

  Peterborough, Northampton, 9, 88;
    Cathedral, 9, 88.

  Pettigrew's, T. J., "Chronicles of the Tombs," quoted, 61.

  Philadelphia, Christ Church, 16.

  Phillpot, Geo., 79.

  Pickering, Robert, 81.

  Pickford, Rev. John, M.A., on the death of two Danish Soldiers at
       Beverley, 116.

  Plumtree, John, 141.

  Plymouth, Devon., 73.

  Pope, Alex., 106.

  Portsmouth, Hants., 78.

  Portugal, 51.

  ----, Don John Emanuel, King of, 51;
    Martin, John, his natural son, 51.

  Preston, Lancash., 136.

  ----, Richard, 13.

  ----, Robert, waiter at the Boar's Head Tavern, London, 62.

  Price, E. B., on restoration of Northampton Church, 62.

  Prissick, Geo., 47.

  Pritchard, Mrs., 96.

  Pryme, A. de la, on the Danes, 119, 120.


  Putney, Surrey, 78.

  Quantox Head, Somerset., 124.

  Quin, Jas., Garrick's epitaph on, 97.

  Railton, Martha, 145, 146.

  Ramillies, 65.

  Ratcliffe-on-Soar, 3.

  Raw, Frank, 2.

  Reader, Mr., 139.

  Ridge, Thomas, 23.

  Ridsdale, George, 122.

  ----, Isabella, 122.

  ----, Jane, the Yorkshire Dwarf, 122.

  Roe, Charles, 4.

  ----, Dorothy, 4, 5.

  ----, Millicent, 4.

  ----, Philip, 6, 7.

  ----, Samuel, 4, 5, 6.

  ----, Sarah, wife of Samuel, 4.

  ----, Sarah, wife of Philip, 7.

  Rogers, Rebecca, 61.

  Rooke, Sir Geo., 65.

  Ross's, F., F.R.H.S., "Celebrities of the Yorkshire Wolds," quoted, 121.

  Rotherham, Yorks., 49.

  Rothwell, Yorks., 12.

  Routleigh, Geo., 33.

  Rudder's, Samuel, "History of Gloucestershire," quoted, 136.

  ----, Roger, see Rutter.

  Rugby, Warwick., 42.

  Rutter, John, 136.

  ----, Roger, (_alias_ Rudder), 136.

  Saddleworth, Yorks., 12, 139.

  St. David's, South Wales, 85.

  Salisbury Wilts., 31.

  Salmond, Capt., 28.

  Salterford, 28.

  Sanderson's, Bp., "Survey of Lincoln Cathedral," quoted, 87.

  Sands, Rev. Samuel, 148.

  Sarnesfield, Weobley, 155.

  Scarborough, 81.

  Scarle, North, Lincoln., 69.

  Scarlett, William, 9, 10.

  Scatchard, Thomas, 140.

  Scotland, 110, 114, 115, 135.

  Scots, Mary, Queen of, 11.

  Scott, John, 55.

  ----, Marjory, 114;
    Alex. Pennecuik's epitaph on, 114, 115.

  ----, Sir W., "Tales of a Grandfather," quoted, 115;
    "Anne of Geierstein," quoted, 119.

  Scrope, Capt. Gervase, 31.

  ----, family, of Bolton, Yorks., 31.

  Seaham, Durham, 48.

  Selby, Yorks., 2, 77.

  Selkirk, Alex., 135, 136.

  Shakespeare, William, 96, 97, 107.

  Sheahan's J. J., "Hist. of Hull," quoted, 153.

  Sheffield, 40;
    Trinity Churchyard, 40.

  Short-hand, Inscription in, in St. Mary's Church, Sculcoates, Hull, 153.

  Shrewsbury, 101;
    St. Julian's Church, 134;
    St. Mary Friars, 101.

  Shullcross, P., 154.

  Silkstone, Yorks., 44.

  Simpson, Jeremiah, 140.

  Slater, Joseph, watchmaker, 34.

  Sleaford, Lincoln., 47.

  Smith, Isaac, 68.

  ----, Robert, 3;
    Richard, 40.

  Smoke Money, or Chimney Money, Collection of, in Battle, and the New
       Forest, 61, 62.

  Southam, Warwick., 148;
    Church, 148.

  South-Hill, Bedford., 77.

  Southwell, Notts., 39.

  Spalding, Joseph, 76.

  Sparke, Mrs. Rose, 89.

  _Spectator, The_, quoted, 30, 78.

  Spencer, Earl, K.G., President of the Roxburghe Club, 14.

  Spofforth, Yorks., 108, 111.

  Spong, see Sprong.

  _Sportive Wit: The Muses' Merriment_, quoted, 57.


  Spottiswood, Eyre &, printers, 19.

  Sprong, John, 50.

  Stalybridge, 22.

  Stamford, Lincoln., 122.
    St. Martin's Church, 122, 123.

  Stockbridge, Hants., 56;
    King's Head Inn, 65.

  Stockport, Chester., 111.

  Stokes, Thomas, "Dumb Tom," 144.

  Stoney Middleton, 95.

  Straker, Daniel, 116.

  Street, Amos, 25, 26.

  Strutt, Matthew, 152.

  Suffolk, Earl of, 100.

  Sutherland, Duke of, 93.

  Sutton Coldfield, Warwick., 137.

  Swain's, Charles, epitaph on S. W. Butler, 99.

  Swift's, Dean, 17, 100, 105;
    epigram on S. Duck, 105, 106;
    epitaph on Dickey Pearce, 100.

  ----, George, 95.

  ----, --, 95.

  ----, Margaret, 95.

  Taunton, Somerset., 49.

  Tawton, Devon., 89.

  Taylor, Hannah, 44.

  ----, John 44.

  ----, John, The Water Poet, 57, 58.

  Teanby, W., 142, 143.

  Teetotal; W. E. A. Axon, on the origin of the word, 137;
    R. Turner, author of the word, 137.

  Tennis Ball, introduced in an epitaph, 31.

  Tewkesbury, Gloucester., 133;
    Abbey, 133.

  Thackerey, Joseph, 55.

  Thanet, Isle of, 123;
    St. Peter's Churchyard, 123.

  Thetcher, Thomas, 64.

  Thompson, Francis, 55.

  Thornton, A., 138, 139.

  ----, Col., 110.

  Thorsby on Tom Booth's exploits, 24.

  Tideswell, Derby., 152.

  Tiffey, Jack, 89.

  _Times, The_, quoted, 35.

  Tipper, Thomas, 54.

  Tonbridge, see Tunbridge

  Tonson, Jacob, printer and bookseller, 15.

  Tradescent, John, 52.

  Tradescants, 52.

  Trowsdale, T. B., F.R.H.S., quoted, 130-133.

  Tunbridge Wells, (Tonbridge) 59.

  Turar, Thomas, 50.

  Turner, Richard, 136, 137;
    author of the word "Teetotal," 137.

  Turpin, Dick, 27.


  Uley, Gloucester., 136.

  Upton-on-Severn, 56.

  Uttoxeter, Stafford., 34;
    Churchyard, 34.

  Wakefield, 90.

  Wales, 92.

  Walford, Edward, M.A., quoted, 35, 36.

  Walker, Ann, 37.

  ----, Benjamin, 37.

  ----, John, 37;
    William, 82.

  Wall, David, 94.

  Wallas, Robert, 2.

  Warren, Borlase, 141.

  Warwick, 137, 138.

  Weem, Scotland, 75.

  Welton, 140.

  Wendesley tomb, 6.

  Wesley's, S., epigram on Samuel Butler, 126.

  Westminster Abbey, 11, 14, 96, 126.

  Westminster, St. Margaret's Church, 14.

  Weston, 47.

  Whalley, Lancash., 137.

  Whitehall, Rev. James, 85.

  Whitaker's, T. D., LL.D., epitaph on John Wigglesworth, 137.

  Whitsun Farthings, or Smoke Money, 62.

  Whittaker, William, 77.

  Whittington, Derby., 6.

  Whitworth, Rev. R. H., quoted, 26.

  Wigglesworth, John, Whitaker's epitaph on, 137.

  William IV., 125.

  William, Adam, printer, 17, 18.

  Wimbledon, Surrey, 51.

  Winchester, Hants., 64.

  Wingfield, North, Derby., 63.

  Winterton, 142;
    Church, the School in the vestry of, 142.

  Wirksworth, Derby., 153.

  Wolverley, Worcester., 8.

  Woodbridge, Suffolk, 76.

  Worme, Sir Richard, 88.

  Worrall, James, 8.

  ----, Thomas, 8.

  Wright, Joe.

  ----, Mrs., (Sarah Biffin) 125.

  Wrightson, Rodger, 145, 146.

  Wycombe, High, Bucks., 37, 127.

  Wynter, Sir Edward, 67, 68.

  Yarmouth, 32, 47, 68;
    St. Nicholas' Church, 47.

  York, 110, 151.

  Yorkshire, 111, 145;
    Beverley, 98, 116;
    Bolton, 112;
    Bowes, 145;
    Darlington, 13;
    Ecclesfield, 23;
    Foulby, 36;
    Hampsthwaite, 122;
    Harrogate, 109-111;
    Hartwith Chapel, 11;
    Hessle, 47;
    Hornsea, 86;
    Knaresborough 108-110;
    Leeds, 12, 110;
    Market Weighton, 121;
    Masham, 122;
    Middleton Tyas, 148;
    Nidderdale, 11;
    Pannal, 55;
    Pateley Bridge, 12;
    Rotherham, 49;
    Rothwell, 12;
    Saddleworth, 12, 139;
    Scarborough, 81;
    Selby, 2;
    Sheffield, 40;
    Silkstone, 44;
    Spofforth, 108, 111;
    Wakefield, 90;
    Welton, 140.


_Charles Henry Barnwell, Printer, 9, Savile Street, Hull._



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Established in 1988, ISYS Search Software is a global supplier of enterprise
search solutions for business and government.  The company's award-winning
software suite offers a broad range of search, navigation and discovery
solutions for desktop search, intranet search, SharePoint search and embedded
search applications.  ISYS has been deployed by thousands of organizations
operating in a variety of industries, including government, legal, law
enforcement, financial services, healthcare and recruitment.