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THE MODERN CEMETERY. 
I have some books from which might be culled, 
from time to time, interesting excerpts for your 
paper. They are, “The Book of Epitaphs,” 
“Gleanings from God’s Acre,” “A Collection of 
Quaint and Curious Epitaphs,” and “Curious Epi- 
taphs.” The latter has a Bibliography of Epitaphs, 
eivinsf a list of over lOO books confined to this sub- 
ject, one of which, I note, is as early as 1631. 
The one to Admiral Byng begins; 
“To the perpetual disgrace of public justice.” 
The admiral having been a sacrifice to the rage 
of the public for a naval defeat in 1757- 
The inn-keepers have several variants of: 
“This world’s an inn and I her guest; 
I’ve eat and drunk and took my rest 
With her awhile, and now I pay 
Her lavish bill and go my way. 
At Chatham there is one on a drunkard: 
“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.” 
Over the remains of Mrs. Ereland is inscribed, 
however: 
“She drank good ale, strong punch and wine. 
And lived to the age of ninety-nine.” 
Here’s a dexterous weaving of spiritual and 
temporal: 
“Beneath this stone, in hope of Zion, 
Doth lie the landlord of the ‘Lion’; 
His son keeps on the business still. 
Resigned unto the Heavenly will.” 
On a baker’s monument it says; 
“Blessed are they who in the Lord are dead, 
Though set like dough, they shall be drawn like bread.” 
This is a a literal copy of a game-keeper’s epi- 
taph: 
“My gun’s discharged, my ball is gone. 
My powder’s spent, my work is done.” 
Those to the Typothetae are numerous and nota- 
ble for their punning in their trade, among which 
are Franklin’s familiar one and another to; 
L. Gedge, printer. 
Like a worn out character, he has returned to the Founder, 
Hoping he will be recast in a better and more perfect mould.” 
Of John Hippisley, a comedian, his tombstone 
says; 
“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 drooped his head, e’n Humor seemed to mourn 
And solemnly sat pensive on his urn.” 
The Parish clerks have their innings, thus; 
‘‘The vocal powers here let us mark 
Of Philip, our late parish clerk. 
In church none ever heard a layman 
With clearer voice say ‘Amen.’ ” 
Hogarth’s begins: 
“Farewell, great painter of mankind. 
Who reached the noblest point of art. 
When pictured morals charm the mind. 
And thro’ the eye correct the heart.” 
Of course the (apocryphal) epithet that Rochester 
is said to have written on Charles IT’s by the latter’s 
request is here: 
“Here lies the mutton-eating king. 
Whose word no man relied on; 
Who never said a foolish thing. 
Or ever did a wise one.” 
and also the king’s comment: 
“If death could speak, the king would say. 
In justice to his crown. 
His acts they were the ministers’s. 
His words they were his own.” 
West Laurel Hill, Philadelphia. H. J. S. 
A Venerable Grave-Digger. 
Plpitaph upon an ancient Dublin Grave-Digger 
who, it is computed, during a period of 22 years 
among the Tombs, prepared the last resting place 
for some 6,000 of his fellow-citizens. 
Here lies Pat Doyle, 
His working days are done. 
He who made many graves. 
Now sleeps in one. 
He died lamented. 
And a hearse and four 
Drove him in splendour 
From the “Buggie” * door. 
In brass-bound coffin 
He went home to earth. 
What more was wanted 
To attest his worth ! 
He had a Wake, too — 
’T was a gorgeous feast — 
Whisky galore there was 
For man and beast. 
The “Boys” attended. 
There was Mick and Bill, 
And all the neighbours 
Kindly drank their fill- 
“Pat” did his duty. 
Both alive and dead. 
For any mortal 
Could more praise be said? 
When I, like him. 
Am freed from further toil, 
I don’t expect the praise 
I’ve given Doyle. 
— London Funeral Directors' Journal. 
*This tabernacle of dirt and poverty is known in the region 
about Harold’s Cross as “The Buggie Barracks.” Fifty-four hu- 
man beings live, and move, and have their being in this single 
edifice. 
