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]

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 letters:—

Here Sept. 9th, 1680,
was buried
A True Born Englishman,
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—

HIS EPITAPH.
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 Castle.”

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

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 thus:—

The following is from St. Julian’s church, Shrewsbury:—

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,
Mariner,
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:—

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 fare.”

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

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:—

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:—

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:—

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:—

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.

MISCELLANEOUS EPITAPHS.

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:—

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

In Memory of
Brian, Son of John and Martha Haigh,
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:—

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:—

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:—

To
The memory of
Micah Hall, Gentleman,
Attorney-at-Law,
Who died on the 14th of May, 1804,
Aged 79 years.

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

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 placed:—

Sacred
To the Memory of
Thomas Depledge,
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 newspapers.

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.