Part 97 (2/2)
At Maidstone.
My life was short, as you may see, I died at only twenty-three.
Now free from pain and grief I rest I had a cancer in my breast; The Doctors all their physic tried, And thus by slow degrees I died!
Northampton.
Here lies the corpse of Susan Lee, Who died of heartfelt pain, Because she lov'd a faithless he, Who lov'd not her again!
Pray for me, old Thomas Dunn,-- But if you don't,--'tis all one!
In Aberdeen, Scotland.
Here lies auld William Alderbroad.
Have mercy on his soul, Lord G.o.d, As he would have were he Lord G.o.d, And thou auld William Alderbroad!
Sir William Walworth, Lord Mayor of London St. Michael's, Crooked Lane.
Hereunder lyth a man of fame, William Walworth callyd by name; Fishmonger he was in life time here, And twice Lord Maior as in bookes appere, Who with courage stout and manly might Slew Wat Tyler, in King Richard's sight.
For which act done and trew intent, The King made him a Knight incontinent, And gave him armes, as heere you see, To declare his fait and chivalrie.
He left this life the yere of our G.o.d, Thirteene hundryd fourscore and three, odd.
William Wray.
In the same Church-yard.
Here lyeth, wrapt in clay, The body of William Wray;-- I have no more to say.
Interchanging civilities, the party now separated, the collector to resume his occupation, and the two friends their walk.
”Twenty-five quarto volumes,” exclaimed the Squire, ”and exclusively filled with epitaphs; this fellow has set himself a task with a vengeance!”
”And which,” answered his friend, ”he will never be able to accomplish; however, the ambition of renown as a voluminous collector is the less censurable, as being unattended by any of its too frequently pernicious concomitants, and giving to others an acceptable and not irrational employment; he is only blameable in the projected extent, not the nature of his pursuit; and happy would it be for mankind did the love of fame engender no greater evil than that, if any, which may accrue from the Herculean labours of this epitaph collector.”
”Yet to us, the uninitiated of the country, it would never occur that there existed even in London a man who disseminated his fortune, and applied his mental and corporeal energies in gleaning epitaphs.”
”Neither perhaps would it occur that there existed even in London a virtuoso who discovered that fleas were a species of lobster, and who proceeded to proof by the ordeal of boiling water, on the supposition that the process would change their hue from black to red, and thus satisfactorily establish the correctness of his judgment; unfortunately, however, the boiled fleas still retained their original colour, and the ingenious hypothesis was reluctantly relinquished.”{1}
1 It is told of another virtuoso, that he was waited upon one morning by a stranger, who announced that he had the opportunity of procuring an inestimable curiosity--a horned c.o.c.k; but that its owner, an avaricious old woman, had her domicile in the highlands of Scotland, to which remote region it would be necessary to travel, amply provided with the pecuniary means of securing this wonderful bird; and that it would be expedient to set out immediately, lest the matchless phenomenon should become the prize of a more fortunate compet.i.tor.
”A horned c.o.c.k! the very acme of frolicsome nature,--a desideratum in the cla.s.s of _lusus naturae_, which I would rather possess than the mines of Peru!--Away, my dear fellow; speed like lightning to the north,--purchase this precious bird at any price; and should the old woman hesitate at separation from her cornuted companion, why then purchase both, and bring them to town with all possible celerity!”
In the interval between this important mission and the achievement of its object, the anxiety of the virtuoso was inexpressible;--a horned c.o.c.k! it was the incessant subject of his cogitations by day, and of his dreams by night. At last the auspicious moment arrived; in the still noontide of night the preconcerted rap at the street door announced the happy result of the momentous expedition. The virtuoso sprang from his couch with extasy to admit the ill.u.s.trious prodigy of nature. His astonishment, delight, and triumph were unspeakable:--two horns of the most beautiful curva- ture adorned the crested head of this n.o.ble northern.
Antic.i.p.ation thus blessed by the fulness of fruition, the bringer was super-abundantly rewarded. Next morning the virtuoso sent a message to each of his most highly favoured friends, desiring attendance at his house instantaneously, on an occasion of vast importance. ”Gentlemen,” said he to his a.s.sembled visitants, ”I may now boast possession of that whicli will astonish the universe--a horned c.o.c.k! behold the rara avis, and envy my felicity!” So saying, he uncovered a wicker basket, when lo! the bird, shorn of its honours!
indignant at confinement, and struggling for freedom, had dropped its waxen antlers! The unfortunate virtuoso stood aghast and speechless, and only at last found utterance to curse his own credulity!
~~310~~~ Pursuing their course along the City Road, the two friends were attracted by the appearance of a caravan, stationary on the road side, whereon was inscribed, in large characters, The Female Salamander.
”Here is another instance,” observed Dashall, ”of the varieties of Real Life in London.”
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