class="marg8">Neuralgia worked on Mrs. Smith
'Till neath the sod it laid her.
She was a worthy Methodist
And served as a crusader.

Wyoming County.

She was in health at 11.30 a. m.
And left for Heaven at 3.30 p. m.

East Thompson.

Here lies one who never sacrificed his reason to superstitious God, nor ever believed that Jonah swallowed the whale.

New York City.

Trinity Churchyard.
1767.

Tho' Boreas' blasts and boisterous waves
Have tossed me to and fro,
In spite of both by God's decree
I harbor here below;
Where I do now at anchor ride
With many of our fleet,
Yet once again I must set sail,
My Admiral Christ to meet.

Alden White.

Grim death took me without any warning,
I was well one day, and stone dead next morning.

Madeline White.

God takes the good too good on earth to stay,
God leaves the bad too bad to take away.

Sarah Thomas is dead and that's enough
The candle is out and so is the snuff
Her soul is in Heaven you need not fear
And all that's left is buried here.

Ithaca.

The pale consumption gave the mortal blow.
The fate was certain although the event was slow.

While on earth my knee was lame,
I had to nurse and heed it.
But now I'm at a better place,
Where I don't even need it.

Her blooming cheeks were no defence
Against the scarlet fever.
In five day's time she was cut down,
To dwell with Christ forever.

Moses White.

His grand excellence was that he was genuine.

Father and Mother and I
Choose to be buried asunder.
Father and Mother here,
And I buried yonder.

Julia King.

I go to meet my brother.

John Dale
and his two wives.

A period's come to all their toilsome lives,
The good man's quiet—still are both his wives.

Greenwood.

Grieve not for me my Harriet dear
For I am better off,
You know what were my sufferings
And what a dreadful cough.

David Stuart

A loving father and companion,
Follow me as I have—Jesus.

Orange County.

Underneath this stone doeth lie
As much virtue as could die;
Which when alive did vigor give
To as much of beauty as could live.

Amos Judge
(Coal dealer.)

He gave full weight to all t'is said
And did it without vaunting;
When in the ballance he is weighed
He will not be found wanting.

William Newhall.

He 'rose in health at early dawn
To hail the new born year:
Before the evening shade came on
He finished his career.

He was a man of invention great
Above all who he lived nigh;
But he could not invent to live
When God called him to die.

A thousand ways cut short our days,
None are exempt from death.
A honey-bee by stinging me
Did stop my mortal breath.

He got a fish bone in his throat
And then he sang an angel's note.

Orange County.

Here lies a kind and loving wife,
A tender nursing mother;
A neighbor free from brawl and strife,
A pattern for all others.

To the memory of
Susan Mum.

Silence is wisdom.

This corpse
is
Phebe Thorps.

Neal Keven.

His accounts were found square to a cent.

A Watch-maker's Epitaph

Copied from a tomb-stone in Wales by old Sexton Brown, the once famous sexton of Grace Church, N. Y.

Here lies in a horizontal position the outside case of George Rutlege watch-maker, whose abilities in that line were an honor to his profession.

Integrity was the main-spring of all the actions of his life. Humane, honest and industrious his hands never stopped until they had relieved distress.

He had the art of disposing of his time in such a way that he never went wrong except when set agoing by persons who did not know his key, and even then was easily set right again.

He departed this life wound up in the hope of being taken in hand by his Maker, thoroughly cleaned, regulated and repaired and set going in the world to come.

IN THE SOUTH.

Philadelphia.

Christ's Churchyard.

(Written by himself when twenty-three years of age.)

The body of Benjamen Franklin, printer like the cover of an old book its contents torn out and stripped of its lettering and gilding, lies here food for worms.

Yet the work itself shall not be lost for it will, as he believed, appear once more in a new and more beautiful edition corrected and amended by the author.

Carved on a little stone in a Maryland churchyard, after the name of the dead.

"He held the pall at the funeral of Shakspeare."

Bayfield, Miss.

(On a child struck by lightning.)

Struck by thunder.

Stranger pause my tale attend,
And learn the cause of Hannah's end.
Across the world the wind did blow,
She ketched a cold that laid her low.
We shed a lot of tears 'tis true,
But life is short—aged 82.

Here lies my wife in earthly mould,
Who when she lived did naught but scold.
Peace! wake her not, for now she's still,
She had; but now I have my will.

Alexandria, Va.

To the memory of a female stranger whoes mortal sufferings ended Oct. 14th 1816.

How valued, how loved once, avails thee not
To whom related, or by whom begot.
A heap of dust alone remains of thee,
Tis all thou art and all the proud shall be.

Peter Letig was his name,
Heaven I hope his station,
Baltimore was his dwelling place
And Christ is his salvation.

The milk of human kindness was my own dear cherub wife
I'll never find another one as good in all my life.

She bloomed, she blossomed, she decayed,
And under this tree her body we laid.

Mr. James Danner, late of Louisville, having been laid by the side of his four wives, received this touching epitaph:

An excellent husband was this Mr. Danner,
He lived in a thoroughly honorable manner.

He may have had troubles,
But they burst like bubbles,

He's at peace, now with Mary, Jane, Susan and Hannah.

Maryland.

Henrietta thou was mild and lovely,
Gentle as a summer