AT THE OLD MEN'S HOSPITAL, NORWICH, ENG.

In Memory of Mrs. Phebe Crewe, who died May 28, 1817, aged 77 years; who, during forty years' practice as a midwife in this city, brought into the world nine thousand seven hundred and thirty children.

IN THE ABBEY CHURCH OF CONWAY.

Here lyeth the body of Nichlas Hooker, who was the one and fortieth child of his father by Alice his only wife, and the father of seven and twenty children by one wife. He died March 20th, 1637.

AT WOLSTANTON.

Mrs. Ann Jennings.

Some have children, some have none:
Here lies the mother of twenty-one.

IN THE CHURCHYARD OF HEYDON.

Here lieth the body of William Strutton, of Paddington, buried May 18th, 1734, who had by his first wife, 28 children, and by a second wife, 17; own father to 45, grandfather to 86, great-grandfather to 97, and great-greatgrandfather to 23; in all, 251.

IN THE CHURCHYARD OF PEWSEY, WILTSHIRE.

Here lies the body of Lady O'Looney, great-niece of Burke, commonly called the sublime. She was bland, passionate, and deeply religious; also, she painted in water-colors, and sent several pictures to the exhibition. She was first cousin to Lady Jones; and of such is the kingdom of heaven.

IN CRAYFORD CHURCHYARD, KENT.

Here lieth the body of Peter Snell, thirty-five years clerk of the parish. He lived respected as a pious and faithful 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 was just threescore and ten,
Nearly half of which time he had sung out Amen.
In his 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 sang out Amen.
On the horn he could blow as well as most men,
So "his horn was exalted" in blowing Amen.
But he lost all his wind after threescore and ten,
And here with his wives he waits till again
The trumpet shall rouse him to sing out Amen.

AT WREXHAM, WALES.

Elihu Yale, (founder of Yale College,) ob. 1721, æt. 73.
Born in America, in Europe bred,

In Afric travelled, and in Asia wed;

Where long he lived and thrived, in London dead.
Much good, some ill, he did; so hope all's even,
And that his soul through mercy's gone to Heaven.
You that survive, and read this tale, take care,
For this most certain exit to prepare,

Where, blest in peace, the actions of the just
Smell sweet, and blossom in the silent dust.

SELF-WRITTEN.

MATTHEW PRIOR'S.

Painters and heralds, by your leave,
Here lie the bones of Matthew Prior,
The son of Adam and of Eve:-

Let Bourbon or Nassau go higher!

It is said (and the statement appears highly probable) that Prior borrowed his lines from the following very ancient epi taph upon a tombstone in Scotland :

John Carnagie lies here,

Descended from Adam and Eve;
If any can boast of a pedigree higher,
He will willingly give them leave.

COLERIDGE'S.

Stop, Christian passer-by! stop, child of God,
And read with gentle heart. Beneath this sod
A poet lies, or that which once seemed he :-
O lift a thought in prayer for S. T. C.,

That he, who many a year with toil of breath
Found death in life, may here find life in death;

Mercy for praise, to be forgiven for fame,

He asked, and hoped through Christ. Do thou the same!

JOHN BACON'S, TOTTENHAM COURT CHAPEL.

What I was as an Artist

Seemed to me of some importance
while I lived;

But what I really was as a believer
in Christ Jesus,

is the only thing of importance

to me now.

DR. COOPER'S, EDINBURGH.

Here lies a priest of English blood,
Who, living, liked whate'er was good,-
Good company, good wine, good name,
Yet never hunted after fame;

But as the first he still preferred,

So here he chose to be interred,

And, unobscured, from crowds withdrew

To rest among a chosen few,

In humble hopes that sovereign love
Will raise him to be blest above.

POPE ADRIAN'S.

Adrianus, Papa VI., hic situs est, que nihil sibi
Infelicius in vita, quam quod imperaret duxit.

SHEIL'S, (THE IRISH ORATOR).

Here lie I. There's an end to my woes.

And my spirit at length at aise is,

With the tip of my nose, and the ends of my toes,
Turned up 'gainst the roots of the daisies.

The eccentric Sternhold Oakes offered a reward for the best epitaph for his grave. Several tried for the prize, but they flattered him too much, he thought. At last he undertook it himself; and the following was the result:

Here lies the body of Sternhold Oakes,

Who lived and died like other folks.

That was satisfactory, and the old gentleman claimed the prize, which, as he had the paying of it, was of course allowed.

MORALIZING AND ADMONITORY.

AT KENNEBUNK, MAINE.

Rev. Daniel Little, 1801.

Memento mori! preached his ardent youth,

Memento mori! spoke maturer years;

Memento mori! sighed his latest breath,

Memento mori! now this stone declares.

AT ANDOVER, MASS.

John Abbot, 1793, æt. 90.

Grass, smoke, a flower, a vapor, shade, a span,
Serve to illustrate the frail life of man;

And they, who longest live, survive to see
The certainty of death, of life the vanity.

IN LLANGOWEN CHURCHYARD, WALES.

Our life is but a summer's day:
Some only breakfast, and away;
Others to dinner stay, and are full fed;
The oldest man but sups, and goes to bed.
Large his account, who lingers out the day;
Who goes the soonest, has the least to pay.

IN ST. SAVIOUR'S CHURCHYARD, SOUTHWARK.
Like to the damask rose you see,
Or like the blossom on the tree,
Or like the dainty flower of May,
Or like the morning of the day,
Or like the sun, or like the shade,
Or like the gourd which Jonas had;
Even so is man, whose thread is spun,
Drawn out, and cut, and so is done.
The rose withers, the blossom blasteth,
The flower fades, the morning hasteth:
The sun sets, the shadow flies,
The gourd consumes, and man he dies.
IN GILLINGHAM CHURCHYARD, ENG.
Take time in time while time doth last,
For time is not time when time is past.

GARRICK'S EPITAPH ON QUINN, ABBEY CHURCH, BATH.
Here lies James Quinn! 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.

IN NEWINGTON CHURCHYARD.

Through Christ, I am not inferior
To William the Conqueror.

IN LINCOLNSHIRE, ENGLAND.

Under this solitary sod

There lies a man

Whose ways were very odd:
Whatever his faults were,

Let them alone.
Let thy utmost care be

To mend thine own:
Let him without a sin

First cast a stone.

ADVERTISING INSCRIPTIONS AND NOTICES.

IN WILTSHIRE, ENGLAND.

Beneath this stone in hopes of Zion,

Is laid the landlord of the Lion.

Resigned unto the heavenly will,

His son keeps on the business still.

In the cemetery of Montmartre, a memorial to a Parisian tradesman, killed in an émeute in the earlier part of the reign of Louis Phillippe, concludes with this advertisement:—

This tomb was executed by his bereaved widow (veuve désolée,) who still carries on his business at No. Rue St. Martin.

This announcement is from a Spanish journal:

This morning our Saviour summoned away the jeweller Siebald Illmaga from his shop to another and better world. The undersigned, his widow, will weep upon his tomb, as will also his two daughters, Hilda and Emma, the former of whom is married, and the latter is open to an offer. The funeral will take place to-morrow. His disconsolate widow, Veronique Illmaga. P. S.-This bereavement will not interrupt our business, which will be carried on as usual, only our place of business will be removed from No. 3, Tessi de Teinturiers, to No. 4 Rue de Missionaire, as our grasping landlord has raised our rent.

UNIQUE AND LUDICROUS EPITAPHS.

ON A CONNECTICUT MAN WITH A REMARKABLE TUMOR.

Our father lies beneath the sod,

His spirit's gone unto his God;

We never more shall hear his tread,
Nor see the wen upon his head.

ON THE BELOVED PARTNER OF ROBERT KEMP.

She once was mine

But now, oh, Lord,

I her to Thee resign,

and remain your obedient, humble servant, Robert Kemp.

ON A MISER..

Here lies old Father Gripe, who never cried Jam satis;

"Twould wake him did he know you read his tombstone gratis.