It has been truthfully said that the life of Benjamin Franklin is stranger than fiction. He was a self-made man, gaining distinction as a printer, journalist, author, electrician, natural philosopher, statesman, and diplomatist. The "Autobiography and Letters of Benjamin Franklin " has been extensively circulated, and must ever remain a popular book; young men and women cannot fail to peruse its pages without pleasure and profit.

In collections of epitaphs and books devoted to literary curiosities, a quaint epitaph said to have been written by Franklin frequently finds a place. He was not, however, the original composer of the epitaph, but imitated it for himself. Jacob Tonson, a famous bookseller, died in 1735, and a Latin epitaph was written on him by an Eton scholar. It is printed in the Gentleman's Magazine, February, 1736, with a diffuse paraphrase in English verse.

The following is at all events a

conciser version:

The volume

of

his life being finished

here is the end of

JACOB TONSON.

Weep authors and break your pens;

Your Tonson effaced from the book,
is no more,

but print the last inscription on the title
page of death,

for fear that delivered to the press
of the grave

the Editor should want a title :

Here lies a bookseller,

The leaf of his life being finished,

Awaiting a new edition,
Augmented and corrected.

The following is Franklin's epitaph for himself:

The body
of

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN,

Printer

(Like the cover of an old book,
its contents torn out,

And stript of its lettering and gilding),
Lies here, food for worms.

But the work itself shall not be lost,
For it will, as he believed, appear once more,
In a new and more elegant edition,

Revised and corrected

By

The Author.

But it is not at all certain that Franklin was not the earlier writer, for the epitaph was certainly a production of the first years of manhood— probably 1727. There are other epitaphs from

which he may have taken the idea; that, on the famous John Cotton at Boston, for instance, in which he is likened to a Bible :

A living, breathing Bible; tables where
Both covenants at large engraven were;

Gospel and law in his heart had each its column,

His head an index to the sacred volume!
His very name a title-page; and, next,

His life a commentary on the text.
Oh, what a moment of glorious worth,
When in a new edition he comes forth!
Without errata, we may think 'twill be,
In leaves and covers of Eternity.

There is a similar conceit in the epitaph on John Foster, the Boston printer. Franklin would probably have seen both of these.

On the 17th April, 1790, at the age of eightyfour years, passed away the sturdy patriot and sagacious writer. His mortal remains rest with those of his wife in the burial-ground of Christ Church, Philadelphia. A plain flat stone covers the grave, bearing the following simple inscription

This is the inscription which he directed, in his

will, to be placed on his tomb.

We give a

picture of the quiet corner where the good man and his worthy wife are buried. English as well as American visitors to the city usually wend their way to the last resting-place of the famous man we delight to honour.

A printer's sentiment inscribed to the memory of Franklin is worth reproducing :

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, the of his profession; the type of honesty; the of all; and although the

a. to his existence, each § of his life is without a ||.

of death put

in the old Grancey Cemetery, beside Park Street Church, Boston, Mass. He placed a marble monument to their memory, bearing the following inscription:

JOSIAH FRANKLIN
and

ABIAH, his wife,

Lie here interred.

They lived lovingly together, in wedlock,
Fifty-five years;

And without an estate, or any gainful employment,
By constant labour and honest industry
(With God's blessing),

Maintained a large family comfortably ;
And brought up thirteen children and seven
grand-children
Reputably.

From this instance, reader,

Be encouraged to diligence in thy calling,
And distrust not Providence.

He was a pious and prudent man,
She a discreet and virtuous woman.
Their youngest son,

In filial regard to their memory,
Places this stone.

J. F., Born 1655; Died 1744 ÆT 89.
A. F., Born 1667; Died 1752 ÆT 85.

It is satisfactory to learn that, when the stone became dilapidated, the citizens of Boston replaced it with a granite obelisk.

A notable epitaph was that of George Faulk