Part 97 (1/2)

”No, Sir,--I really am not in possession of the means wherewith to embark on so hazardous a speculation. I am thus employed by an eccentric, yet very worthy gentleman, of large property, who ambitious of transmitting his name to posterity, means to favour the world with a more mult.i.tudinous collection of epitaphs than has. .h.i.therto appeared in any age or nation;--his prospectus states ”Monumental Gleanings, in twenty-five quarto volumes!”

”Astonis.h.i.+ng!” exclaimed Dashall,--”Can it be possible that he ever will be able to accomplish so vast an undertaking?”

”And if he does,” said Tallyho, ”can it be possible that any person will be found to read a production of such magnitude, and on such a subject?”

~~306~~~ ”That to him is a matter of indifference,” said Old Mortality,--”he means to defray the entire charges, and the object of publication effected, will rest satisfied with the approbation of the discerning few, leaving encomium from the mult.i.tude to authors or compilers more susceptible of flattery,--

”Born with a stomach to digest a ton!”

As to the quantum of materiel, he is indefatigable in personal research, employing besides numerous collectors even in the sister island, and in this, from the Land's-end to Johnny Grot's house.”

”And when,” asked Dashall, ”is it probable that this gigantic work may be completed?”

”Can't say,” answered Old Mortality,--”I should think at no very remote period: the collection is in daily acc.u.mulation, and we are already in possession of above ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND.”

”Prodigious!” exclaimed Dashall, ”as Dominic Sampson says. And pray, Sir, what number may your a.s.siduities have contributed towards the aggregate?”

”That,” answered Old Mortality, ”I cannot exactly ascertain; to those, however, already supplied, this ground will yield a considerable increase.”

”May we solicit,” said Tallyho, ”without the imputation of intrusion, the favour of your reading to us from your table-book, a few of the most remarkable epitaphs?”

Old Mortality readily promised gratification as far as possible, but he had not his table-book with him; ”I have been employed to day,” said he, ”in making extracts from one of our ma.n.u.script folio volumes, for the purpose of insertion in the different metropolitan daily papers;--here they are”--taking a small bundle from his pocket, tied round with red tape,--”one for each paper: permit me, gentlemen, for a moment just to look over the endorsations.”

The triumvirate now seated themselves on a tombstone, and Old Mortality untying the bundle of extracts, laid them down in loose compact; then taking up the first, and reading the superscription, shewing for what newspaper it was intended, he reversed it on the tombstone.--”This,”

said he, ”is for ”_The Times, British Press, Morning Post, Morning Chronicle, Morning Advertiser, Morning Herald, Public Ledger_,--all right,--and sorted, as the postman sorts his letters: I shall take, first of all, Printing-house Square, the others are in a direct line of delivery.” This important arrangement made, he took up one paper from the bundle, and read the contents with an audible voice:--~~307~~~

SPECIMEN OF MONUMENTAL GLEANINGS,

Extracted from the ma.n.u.script folio of a new compilation of Epitaphs, serious and eccentric, now in collection, from numerous Dormitories in Great Britain and Ireland; To be completed with all possible expedition, And will be ushered to the patronage of a discerning Public, in Twenty-five quarto volumes.

In the Church-yard of Winchester, Hants.

Here lies interred a Hamps.h.i.+re Grenadier, Who got his death by drinking cold small beer.

Soldiers, take heed from his untimely fall, And if you drink, drink strong, or none at all.

In Stepney Church-yard.

Here lies the body of Daniel Saut, Spitalfields weaver,--and that's all.

In Chigwem Church-yard.

This disease you ne'er heard tell on, I died of eating too much melon; Be careful then all you that feed--I Suffer'd, because I was too greedy.

In St. John's, Leeds.

_Hic jacet_, sure the fattest man That Yorks.h.i.+re stingo made; He was a lover,--of his can, A clothier by his trade.

His waist did measure three yards round, He weighed almost three hundred pound; His flesh did weigh full twenty stone,-- His flesh, I say--he had no bone,-- At least 'tis said that he had none.

Eltham.

My wife lies here beneath, Alas from me she's flown!

She was so good, that Death Would have her for his own.