rat Cheerfulness of Sextons. [Ocr. 
through the éhurch-yard oF BL ‘and, with ‘a miley "theroldman 
paused, and ‘rested’ on the brink’ of a grave ‘in’ which he had*beetr busily 
employed, and wiped the dew from his brow: ’ “Your humble servant, 
Sir,” Said he again—apparently wishing to court conversation. Iosuppose 
he’ took’ me ‘for’ a dead-hunter, and fancied T-wished°to pry‘into' the 
secrets of ‘his tenantry. There was a sedate foolery about his mamier, 
which on ‘sécond-thoughts invited me to ‘make ‘his ‘acquaintance? he 
seemed to be a grave humorist —‘an obtuse jester You!areino 
servant of mine, though you may be humble,” said 15) Iowant»none 
such.. My time is not come. I am sweet, wholesome} locomotive) and 
still likely to remain so. Go to your earthworms, and to them you may 
bend, ‘cap in hand, and say, * your humble ‘servant’—for “you spread 
their banquet, and art a brave seneschal to their luxurious supper—old 
Life-in-death 1” “Ha! Ha! Life in death-"faith’ that’s» good. Life 
in death, quotha”—said the old man, tickled by the-epithet; to which he 
had unwittingly given the cue. We were on’ terms immediately ;/he 
was my chosen friend—my equal :—no more my humble’ servant. it 
*°'How doth a smack of good-humour open the heart !\'The old fellow 
jumped on his hobby-horse of “ graves, and tombs, and epitaphs”—(many 
a waggish rhyme he gabbled over to me)—and no improvisitore, with all 
his fire, ever gave more eloquent effusions’ than this'old’ chronicler did in 
his way. Iremember one of his epitaphs, on three’ children’ buried) in 
one grave :— 3 roven oe 
Under this stone lie babies three} 
That God Almighty sent to me ; 
But they were seized by ‘acue fits, mb (spbnoer 
And here they lie as dead as'nits 1ONts SONGIRSGaE 
© You see, your honour,” said he, “ 1 am a bitof awags" tiwod 
“ Heigho !—the days are gone—the days are gone.” 
Between a sigh and a chuckle, the rogue continued—* I am but'a boy 
yet—I am but eighty-six,—I have had five wives, and they were all of 
them,good ones, There was Margery the first-—I mean ‘my fist wife’s 
name was Margery—not that she was the first of Margeries :~oh ! poor 
Margery! bless her blue eyes! there she lies with the violéts’and ‘cow- 
slips over her head. ‘Then I had Joan:—ah! Joan was a rate’ good *un. 
I liked her better, ‘cause she kept Margery more in my mind, and’ I 
seemed to have two wives at once (and not against the law either). 
There she lies—there she lies; and there I thought I should have lain 
too, til once.on a time I saw Dorothy—and Dorothy won'my heart, as 
I saw her milking the old red cow in the pasture, one fine May evening. 
In a week after I saw Dorothy, she and I became one. Twas always an 
attractive one to the sweet sex—Heigho!heigho!’” We spent many 
happy days together; but she, like the rest, one’ day gave'me ‘the 
slip, and—bless her black eyes, there she lies ‘amongst’ the’ others 
with a handsome head and footstone. Then there was—letme''see 
—who was the last I told your honour of? Margery, Joan, Dorothy, 
and—oh! Dorothy was the last I mentioned.’ Then there’ was Peggy 
and, Bridget :—Bridget was the last of the flock: al! bless’’em 
all—bless ’em all: there they aré, all in’ a tows and DB never let one 
grave have more violets than the other, though they spriiig the’ freshest 
over Margery, and so I am often transplanting from her'to give to the 
rest. They were all of them good ones—all—all. Pray, your ‘honour, 
? 
ieos 
how many wives have you had ?”This' home question struck me at the _ 
