He was early in life rescued from West Indian Slavery by a Gentleman of this Parish which he ever gratefully remembered and whom he continued to serve as a Footman honestly and faithfully to the end of his Life. He died the 2d of May 1784 Aged about 45 years.

Many visitors to Morecambe pay a pilgrimage to Sambo's grave. A correspondent kindly furnishes us with the following particulars of poor Sambo, who is buried far from his native land. Sunderland Point, he says, a village on the coast near Lancaster, was, before the advent of Liverpool, the port for Lancaster, and is credited with having received the first cargo of West India cotton which reached this country. Some rather large warehouses were built there about a century ago, now adapted to fishermen's cottages for the few fisher folk who still linger about the little port. Near the ferry landing on the Morecambe side there is a strange looking tree, which tradition says was raised from a seed brought from the West Indies, and the natives call it the cotton tree, because every year it strews the ground with its white blossoms. Close to the sh.o.r.e, with only a low stone wall dividing it from the restless sea, is a solitary grave in the corner of a field, which is called "Sambo's grave."

Poor Sambo came over to this country with a cotton cargo, fell ill at Sunderland Point, and died; and there being no churchyard near, he was laid in mother earth in an adjoining field. The house is still pointed out in which the negro died, and some sixty years afterwards it occurred to Mr. James Watson that the fact of this dark-skinned brother dying so far from home among strangers was sufficiently pathetic to warrant a memorial.

Accordingly he caused the following to be inscribed on a large stone laid flat on the grave, which indicates that he was a slave of probably an English master about a century before the days of negro emanc.i.p.ation in the colonies:--

Here lies POOR SAMBO, A faithful negro, who (Attending his master from the West Indies), Died on his arrival at Sunderland.

For sixty years the angry winter's wave Has, thundering, dashed this bleak and barren sh.o.r.e, Since Sambo's head laid in this lonely grave, Lies still, and ne'er will hear their turmoil more.

Full many a sand-bird chirps upon the sod, And many a moonlight elfin round him trips, Full many a summer sunbeam warms the clod, And many a teeming cloud upon him drips.

But still he sleeps, till the awakening sounds Of the archangel's trump new life impart; Then the Great Judge, His approbation founds Not on man's colour, but his worth of heart.

H. Bell, del. (1796.)

Epitaphs on Soldiers and Sailors.

We give a few of the many curious epitaphs placed to the memory of soldiers and sea-faring men. Our initial epitaph is taken from Longnor churchyard, Staffordshire, and it tells the story of an extended and eventful life:--

In memory of WILLIAM BILLINGE, who was Born in a Corn Field at Fawfield head, in this Parish, in the year 1679. At the age of 23 years he enlisted into His Majesty's service under Sir George Rooke, and was at the taking of the Fortress of Gibralter in 1704. He afterwards served under the Duke of Marlborough at Ramillies, fought on the 23rd of May, 1706, where he was wounded by a musket-shot in his thigh. Afterwards returned to his native country, and with manly courage defended his sovereign's rights in the Rebellion in 1715 and 1745. He died within the s.p.a.ce of 150 yards of where he was born, and was interred here the 30th January, 1791, aged 112 years.

Billeted by death, I quartered here remain, And when the trumpet sounds I'll rise and march again.

On a Chelsea Hospital veteran we have the following interesting epitaph:--

Here lies WILLIAM HISELAND, A Veteran, if ever Soldier was, Who merited well a Pension, If long service be a merit, Having served upwards of the days of Man.

Ancient, but not superannuated; Engaged in a Series of Wars, Civil as well as Foreign, Yet maimed or worn out by neither.

His complexion was Fresh and Florid; His Health Hale and Hearty; His memory Exact and Ready.

In Stature He exceeded the Military Size; In Strength He surpa.s.sed the Prime of Youth; And What rendered his age still more Patriarchal, When above a Hundred Years old He took unto him a Wife!

Read! fellow Soldiers, and reflect That there is a Spiritual Warfare, As well as a Warfare _Temporal_.

Born the 1st August, 1620, Died the 17th of February, 1732, Aged One Hundred and Twelve.

At Bremhill, Wiltshire, the following lines are placed to the memory of a soldier who reached the advanced age of 92 years:--

A poor old soldier shall not lie unknown, Without a verse and this recording stone.

'Twas his, in youth, o'er distant lands to stray, Danger and death companions of his way.

Here, in his native village, stealing age Closed the lone evening of his pilgrimage.

Speak of the past--of names of high renown, Or brave commanders long to dust gone down, His look with instant animation glow'd, Tho' ninety winters on his head had snow'd.

His country, while he lived, a boon supplied, And Faith her shield held o'er him when he died.

The following inscription is engraved on a piece of copper affixed to one of the pillars in Winchester Cathedral:--

A MEMORIALL.

For the renowned Martialist RICHARD BOLES of y{e} Right Worshypful family of the Boles, in Linckhorne Sheire: Colonell of a Ridgment of Foot of 1300, who for his Gratious King Charles y{e} First did wounders at the Battell of Edge Hill; his last Action, to omit all others was att Alton in the County of Southampton, was surprised by five or Six Thousand of the Rebells, who caught him there Quartered to fly to the church, with near fourscore of his men who there fought them six or seven Houers, and then the Rebells breaking in upon them he slew with his sword six or seven of them, and then was slayne himself, with sixty of his men aboute him 1641.

His Gratious Sovereign hearing of his death, gave him his high comendation in y{s} pationate expression, Bring me a moorning scarffe, i have lost One of the best Commanders in this Kingdome.

Alton will tell you of his famous fight Which y{s} man made and bade the world good night His verteous life feared not Mortality His body must his vertues cannot Die.

Because his Bloud was there so n.o.bly spent, This is his Tomb, that church his monument.

Ricardus Boles in Art. Mag.

Composuit, Posuitque, Dolens, An. Dm. 1689.

On one of the b.u.t.tresses on the south side of St. Mary's Church, at Beverley, is an oval tablet, to commemorate the fate of two Danish soldiers, who, during their voyage to Hull, to join the service of the Prince of Orange, in 1689, quarrelled, and having been marched with the troops to Beverley, during their short stay there sought a private meeting to settle their differences by the sword. Their melancholy end is recorded in a doggerel epitaph, of which we give an ill.u.s.tration.

In the parish registers the following entries occur:--

1689, December 16.--Daniel Straker, a Danish trooper buried.

" December 23.--Johannes Frederick Bellow, a Danish trooper, beheaded for killing the other, buried.

"The mode of execution was," writes the Rev. Jno. Pickford, M.A., "it may be presumed, by a broad two-handed sword, such a one as Sir Walter Scott has particularly described in 'Anne of Geierstein,' as used at the decapitation of Sir Archibald de Hagenbach, and which the executioner is described as wielding with such address and skill. The Danish culprit was, like the oppressive knight, probably bound and seated in a chair; but such swords as those depicted on the tablet could not well have been used for the purpose, for they are long, narrow in the blade, and perfectly straight."

[Ill.u.s.tration: TABLET IN ST. MARY'S CHURCH, BEVERLEY.]

We have in the diary of Abraham de la Pryme, the Yorkshire antiquary, some very interesting particulars respecting the Danes. Writing in 1689, the diarist tells us: "Towards the latter end of the aforegoing year, there landed at Hull about six or seven thousand Danes, all stout fine men, the best equip'd and disciplin'd of any that was ever seen. They were mighty G.o.dly and religious. You would seldom or never hear an oath or ugly word come out of their mouths. They had a great many ministers amongst them, whome they call'd pastours, and every Sunday almost, ith' afternoon, they prayed and preach'd as soon as our prayers was done. They sung almost all their divine service, and every ministre had those that made up a quire whom the rest follow'd. Then there was a sermon of about half-an-houre's length, all _memoratim_, and then the congregation broke up. When they administered the sacrament, the ministre goes into the church and caused notice to be given thereof, then all come before, and he examined them one by one whether they were worthy to receive or no. If they were he admitted them, if they were not he writ their names down in a book, and bid them prepare against the next Sunday. Instead of bread in the sacrament, I observed that they used wafers about the bigness and thickness of a sixpence. They held it no sin to play at cards upon Sundays, and commonly did everywhere where they were suffered; for indeed in many places the people would not abide the same, but took the cards from them. Tho' they loved strong drink, yet all the while I was amongst them, which was all this winter, I never saw above five or six of them drunk."

The diarist tells us that the strangers liked this country. It appears they worked for the farmers, and sold tumblers, cups, spoons, etc., which they had imported, to the English. They acted in the courthouse a play in their own language, and realised a good sum of money by their performances. The design of the piece was "Herod's Tyranny--The Birth of Christ--The Coming of the Wise Men."

A correspondent states that in Battersea Church there is a handsome monument to Sir Edward Wynter, a captain in the East India Company's service in the reign of Charles II., which records that in India, where he had pa.s.sed many years of his life, he was

A rare example, and unknown to most, Where wealth is gain'd, and conscience is not lost; Nor less in martial honour was his name, Witness his actions of immortal fame.

Alone, unharm'd, a tiger he opprest, And crush'd to death the monster of a beast.

Thrice twenty mounted Moors he overthrew, Singly, on foot, some wounded, some he slew, Dispersed the rest,--what more could Samson do?

True to his friends, a terror to his foes, Here now in peace his honour'd bones repose.

Below, in bas-relief, he is represented struggling with the tiger, both the combatants appearing in the att.i.tude of wrestlers. He is also depicted in the performance of the yet more wonderful achievement, the discomfiture of the "thrice twenty mounted Moors," who are all flying before him.

In Yarmouth churchyard, a monumental inscription tells a painful story as follows:--

To the memory of GEORGE GRIFFITHS, of the Shropshire Militia, who died Feb. 26th, 1807, in consequence of a blow received in a quarrel with his comrade.

Time flies away as nature on its wing, I in a battle died (not for my King).

Words with my brother soldier did take place, Which shameful is, and always brings disgrace.

Think not the worse of him who doth remain, For he as well as I might have been slain.

We have also from Yarmouth the next example:--

To the memory of ISAAC SMITH, who died March 24th, 1808, and SAMUEL BODGER, who died April 2nd, 1808, both of the Cambridgeshire Militia.

The tyrant Death did early us arrest, And all the magazines of life possest: No more the blood its circling course did run, But in the veins like icicles it hung; No more the hearts, now void of quickening heat, The tuneful march of vital motion beat; Stiffness did into every sinew climb, And a short death crept cold through every limb.

The next example is from Bury St. Edmunds:--

WILLIAM MIDDLEDITCH, Late Serjeant-Major of the Grenadier Guards, Died Nov. 13, 1834, aged 53 years.

A husband, father, comrade, friend sincere, A British soldier brave lies buried here.

In Spain and Flushing, and at Waterloo, He fought to guard our country from the foe; His comrades, Britons, who survive him, say He acted n.o.bly on that glorious day.