Tombstones and Epitaths

Tombstones and Epitaphs The last use to which a stone can be put is as a tombstone. If any one puts a gravestone over us, the less said about us the better: our name, our birth, our death, and a godly text; but no fulsome flattery. Some gravestones have very much flattery on them, and the sooner the epitaphs are illegible the better. "Where do they bury all the bad people, father?" asked the boy in the churchyard; "they are all good people here." In the churchyard of Horsleydown, Cumberland, there is a monument to a man and his wife, "which is an instance," says Mrs. Stone, in her "God's Acre," of the extent to which irreverence may be carried. It is a shocking production, certainly; but though shocking for a man's wife, it might be put over some of us in spirit if not in letter. I'll read it to you.

Here lie the bodies Of THOMAS BOND & MARY his Wife.

She was temperate, chaste, and charitable, BUT She was proud, peevish, and passionate.

She was an affectionate wife and a tender mother, BUT Her husband and child whom she loved Seldom saw her countenance without a disgusting frown, Whilst she received visitors whom she despised with an endearing smile.

Her behaviour was discreet towards strangers, BUT Imprudent in her family.

Abroad her conduct was influenced by good breeding; BUT At home by ill-temper.

She was a professed enemy to flattery, And was seldom known to praise or commend; BUT The talents in which she principally excelled Were difference of opinion, and discovering flaws and imperfections.

She was an admirable economist, And without prodigality Dispensed plenty to every person in her family; BUT Would sacrifice their eyes to a farthing candle.

She sometimes made her husband happy with her good qualities; BUT Much more frequently miserable with her many failings;

Insomuch that in thirty years' cohabitation he often lamented That, maugre all her virtues, He had not on the whole enjoyed two years of Matrimonial Comfort.

At length, Finding that she had lost the affection of her husband, As well as the regard of her neighbours, Family disputes having been divulged by servants,

She died of vexation, July 26, 1768,

Aged 48 years.

Her worn-out husband survived her four months and two days,

And departed this life Nov. 28, 1768,

In the 54th year of his age.

William Bond, brother to the deceased, erected this stone, As a weekly monitor to the surviving wives of the parish, That they may avoid the infamy Of having their memories handed to posterity With a patchwork character.

Metropolitan Tabernacle,
Newington Butts.

I think that Mr. William Bond ought to be ashamed of himself. At the same time, I think a good many of us might have "buts" in our memorials. It should be our effort to get rid of the "buts." Nevertheless, I wish all blessing to "Newington Butts."