Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1889-08-08
In graveyard IN Montrose, Scotland,
the following may be seen, though truly
AN AULD KTRKYARD.

- - ~
AN AULD KIRKYARD.
it is worthy Of another British island:
Here lies the body of
George Young.
And of all his pOsterity for
Fifty years backward.
In the Land O. Cakes" we also find
the two following poems on tombs, one
play on the name, the other on the oc-
cupation of the deceased:
A Latin inscription on the tomb of a
man named Durie translated reads as fol-
lows: THAT which is durable is broken,
nor appears any longer to endure, but
Durie still endUres and fourishes with
bright renown.'
And an epitaph on a schoolmaster,
who, it was stated, was Learned gram
marian, but neither wished to decline
death nor was able to infect fate"
There is an epitaph extant, which,
after attributing to a lady all the Christ
ian and domestic virtues conceivable,
wound up with: "She also painted in
water colors.'
The subjoinlng is warning to gour-
mands:
My wife has left me, she's gone up on high,
She was thoughtful when dying and said
Tom, don't cry"
She was a great beauty. so every one knows,
With Hebe-like features and fine Roman
nose.
She played the piany and was learning
ballad.
When she sickened and died-died from eat
ing veal salad.
The two following illusions are rare
examples of the difficulties of the rhym-
er's art and ingenious mode of getting
around them.
From a tomb in Manchester:
Here lies, alas! more's the pity,
All that remains of Nicholas Newcity.
n. Bills name was NewtOwn.
Here lies the remains of Thomas Woodhen
The most amiable of husbands and excellent
of men.
N. Bills real name was Woodcock but it
wouldn't come in rhyme.
This inscription appears on tomb in
Ireland:
Here lies John Higley, whose father and
mother were drowned on their passage to
America. Had they lived they would have
been buried here.
Cornwall, England, furnishes the fol-
lowing:
Father and mother andI
Lie buried here asunder;
Father and mother lie buried here,
And lie buried yonder
In Wrexham churchyard, Wales, it is
found that
Here lie nVe DdDloS ana cnllQren DEAR
Three at Oswestry and two here.
In Edinburg we read that
John Mcpherson
Was wonderful person,
He stood feet without his shoe,
And he was slew
At Waterloo.
1t appears of a Coroner who put an
end to his life: He lived and died by
suicide"
One often hears it said there are no
perfect people except in the cemeteries,
but the four following inscriptions from
tombs in different parts of Massachusetts
seem exceptions to the rule:
To the memory of Captain Bar, a staEch
patriot, who fought and bled for his country,
who was foremost in all the stormy deeds of
his nations history. Known to be q liberal
man! but he was a glutton and a wine bibber!
drove his only son to sea and to ruin; killed
his wife by his misdeeds and died drunk in
his Dist year.
To the memory of Mary Gold,
Who was gold in nothing but her name.
She was tolerable woman for an acquaint-
ance.
But o. N. himself couldn't live with her.
Her temper was furious,
Her tongue vindictive,
She resented a look and frOwned al q smile,
-, And was as sour as vinegar.
She punished the earth upward of forty years,
To say nothing of her relations.
This to the memory of Ellen Hill,
A woman who would always have her will;
She snubbed her husband, though she made
good bread,
And on the whole he's rather glad she's dead.
She whipped her children land she drank her
GIN,
Whipped virtue outand whipped the devil in.
May all such women go to some great fold,
Where they through all eternity can scold.
John T, schoolmaster.
May he be punished as often as ne punished
US.
He was hard old she'll
He said the Lords Prayer every morning.
May the Lord forgive him as often as he for
That was never.
We, his scholars, rear this stone over his
ashes,
Though they are not worth it.
We are glad his reign is over
The next is an epitaph on a country
doctor:
Here lies at length. though length not long,
A vender of small pills,
Who Quacked his wares throughout little
towns
For curing minor ills.
This dapper doctor was so small, -
So small his sugar pills, -
That all his patrons looked aghast
To see his mOnStrOuS bills.
Death cut him short as life had done
How could he cut him long?
AS small his stature, fame and worth.
So brief shall be my song.
q,