Spirit of Jefferson. [volume] (Charles Town, Va. [W. Va.]) 1844-1948, 1878-04-16
AMONG THE TOMBS.


uobly. Here is beautiful inscription in
the English burying ground at Bordeaux:
"There was n sweet and namcless grace,
That wandered DER her lovely face;
And from her pensive eye of blue,
Was magic in the glance which flew.
Her hair of soft and gloomy shade,
In rich luxuriance curling strayed,
But when she spoke, or when she sung,
Enchantment on her accents hung,
Where is she now where ali must be
Sunk in the graves obscurity.
Yet never-never slumbered there,
A mind more pure-a form more FART"
The following epitaph is by Pope, who
had fondness for writing them. 1t was
written in memory of Mrs. Corbet, and is
in the parish church of S.. Margaret, West
minister -
"Here rests woman, good without pretance,
Blest with plain reason and with sober sense.
No conquest she but DER herself desired,
No arts easayed, but not to be admired.
Passion and pride were to her soul unknown
Convinced that virtue only is our own,
So unaffected, SO composed a mind,
So firm yet SOFT SO strong yet SO refined,
Heaven as its purest gold by fortunes tried,
The saints sustained it but the woman died.
Another by Pope, for which he is said to
have received twenty guineas, is very aconic
but to the point:
"She was-but words are wanting to say
what,
Think what wife should be and she was
that"
We now have specimen of brevity, the
=. All fr1, kIar
cemetery OF Pere La Chaise
"Here lies N, the best of fathers, the
most tender of husbands, his disconsolate
widow still keeps fancy shop, Rue Riches
lieu, No. -"
There is good story told of M illiserate
sculptor, who having to inscribe upon
tombstone the we'll known epitaph. CSC
gloria transit n,uMdi," aud thinking that it
did not suit the case exactly, changed it as
follows, Sic gloria transit Tuesday.
Lord Byron gives the following substitute
for an epitaph:
"Kind reader take your choice TO cry or laugh.
Here Harold lies-but where's his epitaph
If suoh you seek try Westminster and view
Ten thousand just as fit for him as you.
Tothe Ayrshire ploughman, Robert Burns,
we are indebted for this beautiful epitaph,
written on his father:
"Oh We whose cheek the tear of pity stamps
Draw near with pious revcrancc and attend.
Here lie the hoary husbands dear remains,
The tender father and the generous friend,
The plying heart that felt for human woe,
The dauntless heart that feared no human
pride,
The friend of man, to vice alone foe.
For even bis faiings leaned to virtues side"
Another ION hen~pecked SQUIRE
Gas father Adam was fooled
case that's still too common
Hero lies man 4 woman ruled,
The devil ruled the woman"
In the old church>yard of the hamlet OF
Arreton, Isle Of Wight, is the grave of the
D.iryman's daughter. It is indicated by
plain marble slab, with the following bcauti
full inscription written by Leigh Richmond:
ITO the memory Of
Elizabeth Wallbridge,
The Dairyman's daughter,
who died May so, 1901, aged 81 years.
"She being dead, yet speaketh."
"StraDger, if e'er by chance or feeling led
Upon this hallowed turf thy footsteps tread,
Turn from the contemplation of this sod,
And think of her whose spirit rests with God.
Lowly her lot on earth but He who bore
Tidings Of grace and blessings to the poor,
Gave her His truth and faithfuIuess to prove
The choicest pleasures of His boundless love.
Faith, that dispelled Affections darkest gloom,
Hope, that could cheer the passage to the
tomb,
Peace, that not hells dark leyions could
destroy,
And love, that filled the soul with heavenly
joy.
Death OF it's sting disarmed, she knew no fear,
But tasted heaven cen while she fingered
here.
Oh, happy saint may we, like thee, be blest,
In life be faithful, and in death fluid rest 2"
In Bunhill Fields, London, sleeps all that
was mortal of our sweetest christian poet,
whose songs of Zion have cheered many a
pilgrim along the weary way
Isaac Watts, D. D,
November 25, 174S, Act rs,
In Uno Jcsu Ommia."
Our subject grows on us as we write. We
End the world one vast graveyard, and so
many epitaphs worth the copying that we do
not know where to stop. In our own land We
will find many curious and old, and propose
to devote our next article to our own ceme-
teries.
The Rev. T. Dewitt Talmase, the noted
New York Presbyterian preacher, has been
sojourniug in the South and gives the result
of his observation in the following:
"During my two weeks at tho South,
mingling with all classes of people, and in
perpetual conversation. often tncognlto, |
heard not one unkind word toward the North
or Northern people. My opinion is that if,