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Show "Ewe Pes-" L , , , ' , 3 & --- Lf Iv-.,, ,,4 - v;V . . H h v,., , - Lv--V',K ,r . W v ' ' t By ELMO SCOTT WATSON i in u ECENT press dispatohos S carried the news that Dr. Willinra P. Rothwell of Pantueket, K. I., has a caused to be cut on a IggJfSr huge boulder in Oak ?npK Grove cemetery in that f 9 5j c'ty' wnere he will be fcgJsL3' buried, this inscription, "This Is on me." Known Y as an ever-generous host, s" Doctor Rothwell has said "This is on me" so many times while paying the check that he wants It to be his last word. When he dies, he Fays, he wants no mourning among his friends, and he believes that the familiar words on his tombstone will bring smiles to them instead of sorrow. sor-row. The Rhode Island doctor is not the first to write his own epitaph and to do It in a hnlf-Jesting mood. Perhaps Per-haps the most famous of all American epitaphs was written by that first great American. Benjamin Franklin, at the age of twenty-three. It was: The Body " of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN printer (like the cover of an old book. And strtppe ' its lettering and gild- LI93 here food for worms; Yet the work itself shall not be lost. For it will, as he believed, appear once more In a new And more beautiful edition Corrected and amended by the Author. His wishes were not respected by iiis family who thought that some other oth-er epitaph than this, which reflected his career as a printer, would be more appropriate. In the case of Robert Louis Stevenson, however, it was different, dif-ferent, and upon Stevenson's monument monu-ment in Samoa appear these beautiful beauti-ful lines which he wrote: Under the wide and starry sky, Big the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die. And T laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me; 'Here he lies where he longed to be. Home is the sailor, home from sea. And the hunter home from the hill." The self-chosen epitaphs of two other oth-er famous men are nearly as well known. Hilaire Belloc," the historian, chose for his : When I am gone, may only this be said His sins were scarlet, but his books were read. On the tomb of the poet Gay In Westminster abbey appears this couplet cou-plet which he wrote : Life is a Jest and all things show It. I thought so once and now I know It. A walk through an old cemetery will reveal some Interesting facts about the things which people wish to have known about them after they are gone. Especially Is this true of the epitaphs written during the Colonial days in America and the early days of the republic. Many of them warn - the "friend" who Is passing of the certainty of death and judgment. . In gome cases the passer-by Is hailed as "passenger" Instead of friend, as wit- Perhaps the strangest tombstone In the world, shown in the photograph above, stands in Highgate cemetery in London, England. It is a marble piano pi-ano erected "To the memory of My Beloved Husband, Harry Thornton, Age 35, A Genius Who Died Oct 19th, 1018." His epitaph also includes this stanza from a poem by the composer, Puccini: Sweet thou art sleeping Cradled on my heart. Safe in God's keeping, While I must weep apart. ness the following from a cemetery in Elizabeth. N. J., dated 1TS1 : Stop. Passenger, here lie the remains of a woman who exhibited to the world ' a bright constellation of the female i virtues. On that memorahle day, nev-! nev-! er to be forgotten, when a British foe ; Invaded this fair village and fired even . the temple of the Deity, this peaceful daughter of Heaveo retired to her hallowed hal-lowed apartment Imploring Heaven ; for the pardon of her enemies. In that sacred moment she was by the hloody hand of a British rufflan dispatched like her divine redeemer through a path of blood to her long wished-for native skies. A good example of the combined "historical" and "admonitorY" epitaph is found on the monument of Elihu Ynle, founder of Yale colege, which reads: Under this tomb lyes interr'd Elihu Yale of Place Gronow, Esq., born 5tn April, 1648, and dyed the 8th of July, 17C1, aged 73 years Born in America, In Europe bred. In Africa travelled, and In Asia wed, , Where long he lived and thrived, in , London died, Much good, some ill, he did; so hope ; ; all's even, ! And that his soul thro' mercy's gone to heaven. You that survive and read, take care For this most certain exit, to prepare, pre-pare, Where, blest in peace, the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in the silent of the Colonial epitaphs were long-winded affairs, but the prize goes to the brass tablet, dated 177S, which appears on the walls of St. Peter's, the oldest church In Bermuda. It reads: To the Memory of George Forbes, M. D, Whom living A singular complacency of manners Joined with many useful talents and eminent virtues. Render'd highly estimable Blessed with a convivial disposition In the cheerful hour of social festivity He shone irreprehensible And an agreeable companion Ever assiduous in furthering good humor and the enjoyments of sociality friendly to mankind His endeavors to mitigate the evils of life which Yr. bore himself with temper and philosophy were not alone " ' confined to the healing art. Long exercised by him with much " reputation But were likewise exerted J In composing differences ; Restoring friendships interrupted i And promoting Peace, harmony and mutual good understanding Among his fellow men i Having acquitted himself with , , approbation In the several relations of life As he had lived, respected and beloved, S he died. Lamented and regretted for those virtues And many others i which I Tho" not en registered on this tablet are forever engraven On the loving memory of his surviving j friends. He died Jan'y 9lh, 1178, aged 6S years. If the epitaph chosen by the Ithode Island doctor seems a bit flippant, he has plenty of precedent for this kind of jesting. John R. KIppax. a Chicago man, has made a collection of unusual epitaphs, some of which would seem to be more appropriate for a Joke book than a graveyard. There Is the epitaph of eleven-year-old Mary June In a cemetery In Cape May, N. J which reads: She was not smart, she was not fair. But hearts with grief for her are swellin' 1 And empty stands her little chair She died of eatln' watermelln. In the town of Burlington In the same state appears this one: Here lies the body of Mary Ann Low-der. Low-der. She burst while drinking a seldlltx powder. Called from this world to her heavenly rest, She should have waited till it effervesced. effer-vesced. Mr. KIppax Is the authority for this one, although he does not say where It may be found : Here lies the body of Deacon Speer, Whose mouth did reach from ear to ear. Stranger, tread lightly o'er the sod. For If he yapes, you're gone, by cod. This one comes from Counectlcut: Here lies cut down like unripe fruit The wife of Deacon Amos Shute; She died of drinking too much coffee Anny Domlny eighteen forty. A similar one, over the grave of a former slave who lived In Savannah, Ga., tells the passer-by that: Here lies old Rastus Somminy Died a-eating hominy In '59, anno dominl. In an Indiana graveyard there Is this brief record of a tragedy : Here lies I Killed- by a sky Rocket in my eye. In an Ohio cemetery Is an inscrip tion, often quoted, which reads: Under this sod And under these trees Lieth the bod- - . ,. y of Solomon Pease. He's not in this hole But only his pod; He shelled out his soul And went up to his God. What could be more appropriate than this one, written for a Long Island (N. Y.) carpenter: No wonder he sawed short life's span For long he was a (n)alling man. Brief and to the point la this from Schenectady, N. Y. ; He got a fish-bone in his throat And then he sang an angel note. And here Is an old epitaph, date unknown, un-known, which In these modern days of motor cars and reckless drivers should be a warning to all of us. Especlall; is It recommended that "Pedestrians, paste this In your hat!": Here lies the body of William Gray, Who died maintaining his right of way He was right, dead right. As ha sauntered along. But he's Just as dead, As if he'd been wrong. |