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.

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 (veure 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.

REQUIESCAT IN PACE.

Here lies the body of Obadiah Wilkinson,
and Ruth, his wife:

Their warfare is accomplished.

ON MISS GWIN.

Here lies the body of Nancy Gwin,
Who was so very pure within,

She burst her outward shell of sin,

And hatched herself a cherubim.

Whether this, from a village churchyard, is an improvement on Young, is a question :

Death loves a shining mark,

and

In this case he had it.

EPITAPH, FOR A GREAT TALKER.

Hic tacet-instead of hic jacet.

IN OTSEGO COUNTY, N. Y.

John burns.

(On this a commentator remarks, Most men suffer enough above ground without being bunglingly abused, post mortem, in ill-written inscriptions which were at least intended to be civil. We suppose the words were simply intended to record the man's name; but they look marvellously like a noun substantive coupled with a verb in the indicative mood, and affording a sad indication that John burns. There is no hint that John deserved the fate to which he appears to have been consigned since his decease, and we can only say as we read the startling declaration, we should be very sorry to believe it.")

In the church of Stoke Holy Cross, near Norwich, Eng., is the following epitaph:

In the womb of this tomb twins in expectation lay,
To be born in the morn of the Resurrection day.

IN A CHURCHYARD IN CORNWALL.

Here lies the body of Gabriel John,

Who died in the year one thousand and one;

Pray for the soul of Gabriel John,

You may, if you please, or let it alone,

For it's all one

To Gabriel John,

Who died in the year one thousand and one.

IN MORETON CHURCHYARD.

Here lies the bones of Roger Norton,
Whose sudden death was oddly brought on:
Trying one day his corns to mow off,

The razor slipt and cut his toe off!
The toe-or, rather, what it grew to-
An inflammation quickly flew to;
The part then took to mortifying,
Which was the cause of Roger's dying.

ON A WOOD-CUTTER, OCKHAM, SURREY, 1736.
The Lord saw good, I was lopping off wood,
And down fell from the tree;

I met with a check, and I broke my neck,
And so death lopped off me.

A stone-cutter received the following epitaph from a German, to be cut upon the tombstone of his wife:

Mine vife Susan is dead, if she had life till nex friday she'd bin dead shust two weeks. As a tree falls so must it stan, all tings is impossible

mit God.

IN CHILDWALL PARISH, ENGLAND.

Here lies me, and my three daughters,

Brought here by using Cheltenham waters.

If we had stuck to Epsom salts

We wouldn't be in these here vaults.

AT OXFORD, NEW HAMPSHIRE.

To all my friends I bid adieu,

A more sudden death you never knew,

As I was leading the old mare to drink,

She kicked, and killed me quicker'n a wink.

A SOUTH CAROLINA TRIBUTE TO DEPARTED WORTH.

Here lies the boddy of Robert Gordin,
Mouth almighty and teeth ackordin,

Stranger tread lightly over this wonder,

If he opens his mouth, you are gone by thunder.

ON AN EAST TENNESSEE LADY.

She lived a life of virtue, and died of the cholera morbus, caused by eating green fruit, in hope of a 21 years, 7 months and 16 days!

blessed immortality, at the early age of Reader, 'Go thou and do likewise.'