Here rests,- ah, it makes one feel mournful to think of him!-

Here rests,- ah, it makes one feel mournful to think of him!-

but here rests a man who, during sixty-seven years, was never

remembered to have said a good thing; he lived only in the hope of

having a good idea. At last he felt convinced, in his own mind, that

he really had one, and was so delighted that he positively died of joy
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at the thought of having at last caught an idea. Nobody got anything

by it; indeed, no one even heard what the good thing was. Now I can

imagine that this same idea may prevent him from resting quietly in

his grave; for suppose that to produce a good effect, it is

necessary to bring out his new idea at breakfast, and that he can only

make his appearance on earth at midnight, as ghosts are believed

generally to do; why then this good idea would not suit the hour,

and the man would have to carry it down again with him into the grave-

that must be a troubled grave.

    The woman who lies here was so remarkably stingy, that during

her life she would get up in the night and mew, that her neighbors

might think she kept a cat. What a miser she was!

    Here rests a young lady, of a good family, who would always make

her voice heard in society, and when she sang "Mi manca la voce,"*

it was the only true thing she ever said in her life.



    * "I want a voice," or, "I have no voice."