So quick a death a boon is
Let not his friends lament his lot
For mors omnibus communis."

There is an unqualified Hibernianism in the following:

"Here lies the remains of
Thomas Melstrom who died
in Philadelphia March 17th
Had he lived he would have
been buried here."

A good deal of positive information is conveyed in this epitaph:

"Here lies, cut down like unripe fruit
The wife of Deacon Amos Shute;
She died of drinking too much coffee,
Anny dominy eighteen forty."

To the victim of an accident:

"Here lies the body of James Hambrick which was accidentally shot in the
Pacas River by a young man with one of Colts large revolvers with no
stopper for the hand for to rest on. It was one of the old fashioned
sort, brass mounted and of such is the Kingdom of Heaven."

William Curtis, who was famous for his bad grammar, may have composed
his own epitaph:

"Here lies William Curtis
Our late Lord Mayor
Who has left this world,
And gone to that there."

In a church-yard in London, evidently written by a Cockney:

"Here lies John Ross.
Kicked by a Hoss."

In Trinity church-yard, New York, this inscription may be read:

"Val. ----
Sidney Breese.
June 9 17--.
Made by himself.
Ha! Sidney, Sidney
Liest thou here?
I lye here
Till Times last Extremity."

Upon a stone, under the Grocers' Arms, is this inscription, in memory of
Garrard, a tea-dealer:

"Garret some called him
But that was too lye
His name is Garrard
Who now here doth lye
Weepe not for him
Since he is gone before
To heaven where Grocers
There are many more."

The value of phonetic spelling is set forth in this terse memorial:

"Here lies two brothers by misfortune surrounded
One died of his wounds, the other was drounded."

Resignation and an eye to the main chance are combined in the following:

"Beneath this stone, in hope of Zion
Doth lie the landlord of the Lion,
His son keeps in the business still
Resigned unto the heavenly Will."

In a church-yard in Wiltshire, England:

"Beneath this stone lies our dear child
Whos' gone away from we
For evermore into eternity;
When we do hope that we shall go to he
But him can never come back to we."

On Mrs. Sarah Newman:

"Pain was my portion
Physic was my food
Groans was my devotion
Drugs done me no good.