The tyrant Death did early us arrest,
And all the magazines of life possest:

No more the blood its circling course did run,

But in the veins like icicles it hung;

No more the hearts, now void of quickening heat,

The tuneful march of vital motion beat;

Stiffness did into every sinew climb,

And a short death crept cold through every limb.

The next example is from Bury St. Edmunds :-
WILLIAM MIDDLEDITCH,

Late Serjeant-Major of the Grenadier Guards,
Died Nov. 13, 1834, aged 53 years.

A husband, father, comrade, friend sincere,
A British soldier brave lies buried here.

In Spain and Flushing, and at Waterloo,
He fought to guard our country from the foe;
His comrades, Britons, who survive him, say
He acted nobly on that glorious day.

Edward Parr died in 1811, at the age of 38 years, and was buried in North Scarle churchyard. His epitaph states :-

A soldier once I was, as you may see,

My King and Country claim no more from me.

In battle I receiv'd a dreadful ball

Severe the blow, and yet I did not fall.

When God commands, we all must die it's true

Farewell, dear Wife, Relations all, adieu.

A tablet in Chester Cathedral reads as follows:

To the Memory of

JOHN MOORE NAPIER

Captain in Her Majesty's 62nd Regiment

Who died of Asiatic Cholera

in Scinde

on the 7th of July, 1846
Aged 29 years.

The tomb is no record of high lineage;
His may be traced by his name ;

His race was one of soldiers.

Among soldiers he lived; among them he died;
A soldier falling, where numbers fell with him,
In a barbarous land.

Yet there was none died more generous,

More daring, more gifted, or more religious.
On his early grave

Fell the tears of stern and hardy men,

As his had fallen on the graves of others.

A British soldier lies buried under the shadow

of the fine old Minster of Beverley.

1855, and his epitaph states :

A soldier lieth beneath the sod,
Who many a field of battle trod :
When glory call'd, his breast he bar'd,
And toil and want, and danger shar'd.
Like him through all thy duties go;
Waste not thy strength in useless woe,
Heave thou no sigh and shed no tear,
A British soldier slumbers here.

He died in

The stirring lives of many female soldiers have furnished facts for several important historical works, and rich materials for the writers of romance. We give an illustration of the stone

erected by public subscription in Brighton churchyard over the remains of a notable female warrior, named Phoebe Hessel. The inscription tells the story of her long and eventful career. The closing years of her life were cheered by the liberality of George IV. During a visit to Brighton, when he was Prince Regent, he met old Phoebe, and was greatly interested in her history. He ascertained that she was supported by a few benevolent townsmen, and the kindhearted Prince questioned her respecting the amount that would be required to enable her to pass the remainder of her days in comfort.

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Half-a-guinea a week," said Phoebe Hessel, 'will make me as happy as a princess." That amount by order of her royal benefactor was paid to her until the day of her death. She told capital stories, had an excellent memory, and was in every respect most agreeable company. Her faculties remained unimpaired to within a few hours of her death. On September 22nd, 1821, she was visited by a person of some literary taste, and the following particulars were obtained respecting her life. The writer states :-" I have seen to-day an extraordinary character in the person of Phoebe Hessel, a poor woman stated to

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