In Walworth Churchyard :

Here lies the wife of Roger Martin,

She was a good wife to Roger, that's sartain.

In the Parish Churchyard of Thurlton, Norfolk.-
Here lyeth in tearred the

body of Ann Deney one of the
eight daughters and coheires of
William Sydnor, Esq., and wife of
Glover Denny, Gent., who departed
this life the 9th of March in the

yeare of our Lord 1665.

Reader, stay and you shall heare
With your eye who 'tis lies here,
For when stones do silence brake

Th' voice is seene, not heard to speake.

In Chicheley Churchyard, to the memory of John Chester, who died aged three years, on March 13, 1640-1 :—

Grieved at the world and crimes, this early blome
Looked round and sighed, and stole into his tombe.
His fall was like his birth, too quick this rose
Made haste to spread, and the same haste to close.
Here lies his dust, but his best tomb's fled hence,
For marble cannot last like innocence.

In Burlington Churchyard, Iowa:

Beneath this stone our baby lays,

He neither cries nor hollers;
He lived just one and twenty days,
And cost us forty dollars.

On Richard Groombridge, in Horsham Churchyard :—

:

In Newington Churchyard :

He was.

Dear is that spot where Christians sleep,

And sweet the strains their spirits pour.

Oh! do not then in anguish weep,

They are not dead but gone before.

In Hanslope Churchyard, near Wolverton :

Strong and athletic was my frame
'Far away from home I came,

And manly fought with Simon Byrne,
Alas! but lived not to return.

Reader, take warning by my fate,
Unless you rue your case too late ;
And if you've ever fought before,
Determine now to fight no more.

In Bury St. Edmund's Churchyard :—

Fond youth, beware betimes, death skulks behind thee;
Remember as death leaves, the judgment finds thee.

In Mathern Churchyard, Monmouthshire :—

John Lee is dead, that good old man,

You ne'er will see him more;

He used to wear an old brown coat,

All button'd down before.

In Tunbridge Wells Churchyard, the inscription upon a lady runs :Died of a dropsy at Tunbridge Wells, which she laboured under two years with the greatest fortitude.

In St. Paul's Churchyard, London :

Here lies the corpse of William Prynne,

A bencher late of Lincoln's Inn,

Who rudely thrust through thick and thin;
Was never out, nor never in.

A shameless, graceless, gospel-spiller,
An endless, restless, margin-filler,
To king and bishops no good willer,
To church and state a caterpillar.
Against his fate in vain he shrugs,
In hopes of life himself he hugs ;
And whilst he for more tether tugs,
Death crops the remnant of his lugs

In Hereford Churchyard :

WOMAN.

Grieve not for me, my husband dear,
I am not dead, but sleeping here;
With patience wait-prepare to die,
And in a short time you'll come to I.

MAN.

I am not grieved, my dearest life;
Sleep on-I have got another wife ;
Therefore I cannot come to thee,
For I must go and live with she.

In a Churchyard in the neighbourhood of Fort-George Station, on the Highland Railway Line :

Sacred to the memory of a character, John Cameron, alias Johnny Laddie, a native of Campbeltown, Arderseir, who died here on the 26th August, 1868, aged 65. This stone is erected to his memory by public subscription.

Sixty winters on the street,

No shoes nor stockings on his feet,
Amusement both to small and great
Was poor Johnny Laddie.

In Datchet Churchyard, Windsor :

Here lies the body of John Bidwell,

Who, when in life, wished his neighbours no evil;
In hopes up to jump,

When he hears the last trump,

And triumph over Death and the Devil.

In Cheltenham Churchyard :

:

Here lies the body of Molly Dickie,

The wife of Hall Dickie, Taylor.
Two great fisicians first
My loving husband tried
To cure my pain
in vain.

At last he got a third

and

then I died.

In Lichfield Churchyard :

Good passenger, here lies one here
That living did lie everywhere.

In a New Jersey Churchyard :—

Weep, stranger, for a father spill'd

From a stage-coach, and thereby kill'd;

His name was John Sykes, a maker of sassengers,
Slain with three other outside passengers.

On an antique sculptured shield in the front of the tower of St. Edmund's Church, Salisbury:

THE

LORD DID
MARVEILOVSLY
PRESERVE A GREAT
CONGREGATION OF

HIS PEOPLE FROM THE
FALL OF THE TOWER IN
THIS PLACE VPON THE
SABBATH DAY, BEING
IVNE 26,

1653.

PRAISE HIM, O YEE CHILDREN.

In Insch Churchyard, North of Scotland :

Francis and Peter Wiseley, d. 17 Feb. 1843, a. II and 9 yrs. respectively :

In one house they were nursed and fed,

Beneath one mother's eye;

One fever laid them on one bed,

On one bed both their spirits fled,

And in one grave they lie.

Alex., s. of Wm. Benzie, farmer, Coldwells, d. 1834, a. 25 y.
Here with the aged lies a lovely boy,

His father's darling, and his mother's joy;
Yet Death, regardless of the parents' tears,

Snatch'd him away, while in the bloom of years.

In Bedlington Churchyard, Durham :

Poems and epitaphs are but stuff:

Here lies Robert Burrows, that's enough.

In Romsey Abbey Church, on his parents, by Lord Palmerston :-
To those who knew the tenour of their days

'Twere worse than useless to recount their praise;
To those by whom their virtues were unknown,
For cold applause the picture would be shown;
And proud affection asks not for their bier
The carnal tribute of a stranger's tear.

With aching bosoms and with bleeding hearts
We marked those sighs with which the spirit parts;
Yet bowed submissive to the chastening rod,

Nor dared to question the decrees of God,
More blest to live they die, in Him who trust;

He deals His mercies when He calls the Just.

On a lady whose name was Stone, in Melton Mowbray Churchyard, Leicestershire:

Curious enough, we all must say,

That what was Stone should now be clay;
Most curious still, to own we must,
That what was stone will soon be dust.

In St. John's Churchyard, Margate:

Have you not seen, beneath a darkened sky,
Quicker than thought the vivid lightning fly?
More fearfully swift, Death his dart did throw
That pierc'd my breast, and laid my head thus low.
Then learn, ye sweet, engaging fair,

To make your minds your chiefest care:

For death will close the brightest eye,

But truth and virtue never die.

In Doncaster Churchyard :

Here lies 2 brothers by misfortun serounded,

One dy'd of his wounds, and the other was drownded