ON MR. FOOTE.

Here lies one Foote, whose death may thousands

save,

For death has now one Foote within the grave.

On a Puritanical Locksmith.

A zealous Locksmith dy'd of late,
And did arrive at heaven's gate,

He stood without and would not knock
Because he meant to pick the lock.

ON EDWARD HEARDSON,

Thirty years Cook to the Beef Steak Club.

His last steak done, his fire rak'd out and dead,
Dish'd for the worms himself, lies honest Ned;
We then, whose breasts bore all his fleshly toils,
Took all his bastings and shar'd all his broils;
Now in our turn a mouthful carve and trim,
And dress at Phoebus' fire one scrap for him.

His heart, which well might grace the noblest grave,
Was grateful, patient, modest, just and brave;
And ne'er did earth's wide maw a morsel gain

Of kindlier juices, or more tender grain;

His tongue, where duteous friendship humbly dwelt,
Charm'd all who heard the faithful zeal he felt;
Still to whatever end his chops he mov'd,

'Twas all well season'd, relish'd, and approv'd.

This room his heav'n! when threat'ning fate drew nigh,

The closing shade that dimm'd his ling'ring eye;
His last fond hopes, betray'd by many a tear,

Were that his life's last spark might glimmer here;
And the last words that choak'd his parting high-
Oh! at your feet, dear masters, let me die.f

* The attachment and delight the subject of this epitaph took in his employment, is perhaps unparalleled in the sphere of his humble station, and even worth recording.-Finding himself past hope of recovery, he begged on his death bed, as the last wish of his heart, that his body might be conveyed into the club-room, and be there permitted to expire.

Possessed with this idea, which could not be realized, as it was impossible to move him, he laid a miniature picture of Captain Morris, which he had long grasped in his dying hand, on his breast, and under the allusion that he saw the Society around him, he pressed his hands eagerly on the picture, and exclaiming at the same moment-"God bless you, my dear masters, bury it with me!"-expired!—

The Society have resolved to pay all due respect to the memory of this excellent servant. A handsome stone with the above inscription has been voted; and an engraving of him, from an original picture by Barry, is to have a distinguished place in the club-room.

St. Paul's, Covent Garden.

Here lies the body of

Mr. JOHN EDWIN, Comedian,

Who departed this life October 31, 1790, aged 42

years.

Each social meed which honours human kind,
The dust beneath this frail memorial bore;
If pride of excellence uplift thy mind,

Subdue thy weakness, and be vain no more.
A nation's mirth was subject to his art,

E're icy death had smote this child of glee; And care resun'd his empire o'er the heart, When heav'n issued Edwin should not be.

As a tribute of friendship to the memory of the deceased, this stone was erected by Mr. Henry Redhead.

On two young men killed by Lightning, at Rookhill, December 23, 1790.

Reader, this stone solicits not thy tear,

Deem not this sudden stroke of heav'n severe;

But justly bear upon thy breast imprest,

This awful lesson which the dead suggest :

The rich may need (if stain'd by worldly strife)
Slow death's repentant pangs to purchase healthy

life;

The virtuous poor require no chast'ning rod,
Lightning may waft them to the throne of God.

Extract from Howell's Letters.

Dated July 1, 1684.

He says, "As I passed by St. Dunstan's Church, in Fleetstreet, I stepped into a stone-cutter's, to treat with the master for a stone to be put upon my father's tomb; and casting my eyes up and down, I spied a huge marble with a large inscription upon it, which was thus, to the best of my remembrance.

"Here lies John Oxenham, a goodly young man, in whose chamber, as he was struggling with the pangs of death, a bird with a white breast was seen fluttering about his bed, and so vanished.

"Here lies also Mary Oxenham, sister of the above John, who died the next day, and the same apparition was in the room."

Another sister is spoken of then.

"Here lies hard by James Oxenham, the son of the said John, who died a child in his cradle, a little after, and such a bird was seen fluttering about his head a little before he expired, which vanished afterwards,"

At the bottom of the stone

"Here lies Elizabeth Oxenham, the mother of the said John, who died sixteen years since, when such a bird with a white breast, was seen about her bed before her death.

"To all these there were divers witnesses, both Squires and Ladies, whose names were graven on the stone, which was to be sent to a town hard by Exeter, where this happened."

At St. Giles in the Fields,

Lies interred the body of

ANDREW MARVELL, ESQ.

And a monument was intended to have been erected to his memory by the corporation of Kingston upon Hull; on which the following inscription was to have been engraven: but the minister of the parish, through a spirit either of bigotry or envy, for bad both from being placed there.

Near this place

Lyeth the body of ANDREW MARVELL, Esq.
A man so endured by nature;

So improved by education, study, and travel;
So consummated by experience;

That joining the most peculiar graces of wit and
Learning with a singular penetration and