They can also read the Intelligencer

 Here lies a maiden of another description. She was engaged to be

married,- but, her story is one of every-day life; we will leave her

to rest in the grave.
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    Here rests a widow, who, with music in her tongue, carried gall in

her heart. She used to go round among the families near, and search

out their faults, upon which she preyed with all the envy and malice

of her nature. This is a family grave. The members of this family held

so firmly together in their opinions, that they would believe in no

other. If the newspapers, or even the whole world, said of a certain

subject, "It is so-and-so;" and a little schoolboy declared he had

learned quite differently, they would take his assertion as the only

true one, because he belonged to the family. And it is well known that

if the yard-cock belonging to this family happened to crow at

midnight, they would declare it was morning, although the watchman and

all the clocks in the town were proclaiming the hour of twelve at

night.

    The great poet Goethe concludes his Faust with the words, "may

be continued;" so might our wanderings in the churchyard be continued.

I come here often, and if any of my friends, or those who are not my

friends, are too much for me, I go out and choose a plot of ground

in which to bury him or her. Then I bury them, as it were; there

they lie, dead and powerless, till they come back new and better

characters. Their lives and their deeds, looked at after my own

fashion, I write down in my diary, as every one ought to do. Then,

if any of our friends act absurdly, no one need to be vexed about

it. Let them bury the offenders out of sight, and keep their good

temper. They can also read the Intelligencer, which is a paper written

by the people, with their hands guided. When the time comes for the

history of my life, to be bound by the grave, then they will write

upon it as my epitaph-