In Sleaford churchyard, on Henry Fox, a weaver, the following lines are inscribed : Of tender thread this mortal web is made, Our next epitaph, from Weston, is placed over the remains of a useful member of society in his time :— Here lies entomb'd within this vault so dark, He could not work, nor fight,—what then? 1 On an Oxford bellows-maker, the following lines were written : Here lyeth JOHN CRUKER, a maker of bellowes, He that made bellowes, could not make breath. The next epitaph, on Joseph Blakett, poet and shoemaker of Seaham, is said to be from Byron's pen : Stranger! behold interr'd together His work was neat, and often found And stuck to Phoebus to the last. For character—he did not lack it, And if he did-'twere shame to Black it! The following lines are on a cobbler : Death at a cobbler's door oft made a stand, Respecting Robert Gray, a correspondent writes: He was a native of Taunton, and at an early age he lost his parents, and went to London to seek his fortune. Here, as an errand boy, he behaved so well, that his master took him apprentice, and afterwards set him up in business, by which he made a large fortune. In his old age he retired from trade and returned to Taunton, where he founded a hospital. On his monument is the following inscription Taunton bore him; London bred him ; Earth enrich'd him; Heaven possess'd him; This thankful town, that mindful city, Share his piety and pity, What he gave, and how he gave it, Ask the poor, and you shall have it. Give him the praise, and God the glory. He died at the age of 65 years, in 1635. In Rotherham churchyard the following is inscribed on a miller : In memory of EDWARD SWAIR, who departed this life, June 16, 1781. Who always to them constant proved; On a Bristol baker we have the following: Here lie THO. TURAR, and MARY, his wife. He was twice Master of the Company of Bakers, and twice Churchwarden of this parish. He died March 6, 1654. She died May 8th, 1643. Like to the baker's oven is the grave, Wherein the bodyes of the faithful have Blessed are they who in the Lord are dead, Though set like dough, they shall be drawn like bread. On the tomb of an auctioneer in the churchyard at Corby, in the county of Lincoln, is the following: Beneath this stone, facetious wight Lies all that's left of poor JOE Wright; He pleased the peasant, squire, and lord; He knocked him down to "Poor Joe's gone!" In Wimbledon churchyard is the grave of John Martin, a natural son of Don John Emanuel, King of Portugal. He was sent to this country about the year 1712, to be out of the way of his friends, and after several changes of circumstances, ultimately became a gardener. It will be seen from the following epitaph that he won the esteem of his employers : To the memory of JOHN MARTIN, gardener, a native of Portugal, who cultivated here, with industry and success, the same ground under three masters, forty years. Though skilful and experienced, He was modest and unassuming; And tho' faithful to his masters, And with reason esteemed, He was kind to his fellow-servants, And was therefore beloved. His family and neighbours lamented his death, and an honest man. This character of him is given to posterity by his last master, willingly because deservedly, as a lasting testimony of his great regard for so good a servant. He died March 30th, 1760. Aged 66 years. For public service grateful nations raise But are not lilies, which the valleys hide, Those were his care, while his own bending age, His master propp'd and screened from winter's rage, Till down he gently fell, then with a tear He bade his sorrowing sons transport him here. But tho' in weakness planted, as his fruit The next is on the Tradescants, famous gar |