Edward Parr died in 1811, at the age of 38 years, and was buried in North Scarle churchyard. His epitaph states:--

A soldier once I was, as you may see, My King and Country claim no more from me.

In battle I receiv'd a dreadful ball Severe the blow, and yet I did not fall.

When G.o.d commands, we all must die it's true Farewell, dear Wife, Relations all, adieu.

A tablet in Chester Cathedral reads as follows:--

To the Memory of JOHN MOORE NAPIER Captain in Her Majesty's 62nd Regiment Who died of Asiatic Cholera in Scinde on the 7th of July, 1846 Aged 29 years.

The tomb is no record of high lineage; His may be traced by his name; His race was one of soldiers.

Among soldiers he lived; among them he died; A soldier falling, where numbers fell with him, In a barbarous land.

Yet there was none died more generous, More daring, more gifted, or more religious.

On his early grave Fell the tears of stern and hardy men, As his had fallen on the graves of others.

A British soldier lies buried under the shadow of the fine old Minster of Beverley. He died in 1855, and his epitaph states:--

A soldier lieth beneath the sod, Who many a field of battle trod: When glory call'd, his breast he bar'd, And toil and want, and danger shar'd.

Like him through all thy duties go; Waste not thy strength in useless woe, Heave thou no sigh and shed no tear, A British soldier slumbers here.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A GRAVESTONE IN BRIGHTON CHURCHYARD.]

The stirring lives of many female soldiers have furnished facts for several important historical works, and rich materials for the writers of romance. We give an ill.u.s.tration of the stone erected by public subscription in Brighton churchyard over the remains of a notable female warrior, named Phoebe Hessel. The inscription tells the story of her long and eventful career. The closing years of her life were cheered by the liberality of George IV. During a visit to Brighton, when he was Prince Regent, he met old Phoebe, and was greatly interested in her history. He ascertained that she was supported by a few benevolent townsmen, and the kind-hearted Prince questioned her respecting the amount that would be required to enable her to pa.s.s the remainder of her days in comfort.

"Half-a-guinea a week," said Phoebe Hessel, "will make me as happy as a princess." That amount by order of her royal benefactor was paid to her until the day of her death. She told capital stories, had an excellent memory, and was in every respect most agreeable company. Her faculties remained unimpaired to within a few hours of her death. On September 22nd, 1821, she was visited by a person of some literary taste, and the following particulars were obtained respecting her life. The writer states:--"I have seen to-day an extraordinary character in the person of Phoebe Hessel, a poor woman stated to be 108 years of age. It appears that she was born in March, 1715, and at fifteen formed a strong attachment to Samuel Golding, a private in the regiment called Kirk's Lambs, which was ordered to the West Indies. She determined to follow her lover, enlisted into the 5th regiment of foot, commanded by General Pearce, and embarked after him. She served there five years without discovering herself to anyone. At length they were ordered to Gibraltar.

She was likewise at Montserrat, and would have been in action, but her regiment did not reach the place till the battle was decided. Her lover was wounded at Gibraltar and sent to Plymouth; she then waited on the General's lady at Gibraltar, disclosed her s.e.x, told her story, and was immediately sent home. On her arrival, Phoebe went to Samuel Golding in the hospital, nursed him there, and when he came out, married and lived with him for twenty years; he had a pension from Chelsea. After Golding's death, she married Hessel, has had many children, and has been many years a widow. Her eldest son was a sailor with Admiral Norris; he afterwards went to the East Indies, and, if he is now alive, must be nearly seventy years of age. The rest of the family are dead. At an advanced age she earned a scanty livelihood at Brighton by selling apples and gingerbread on the Marine Parade.

"I saw this woman to-day in her bed, to which she is confined from having lost the use of her limbs. She has even now, old and withered as she is, a characteristic countenance, and, I should judge from her present appearance, must have had a fine, though perhaps a masculine style of head when young. I have seen many a woman at the age of sixty or seventy look older than she does under the load of 108 years of human life. Her cheeks are round and seem firm, though ploughed with many a small wrinkle. Her eyes, though their sight is gone, are large and well formed. As soon as it was announced that somebody had come to see her, she broke the silence of her solitary thoughts and spoke. She began in a complaining tone, as if the remains of a strong and restless spirit were impatient of the prison of a decaying and weak body. 'Other people die, and I cannot,' she said.

Upon exciting her recollection of former days, her energy seemed roused, and she spoke with emphasis. Her voice was strong for an old person; and I could easily believe her when, upon being asked if her s.e.x was not in danger of being detected by her voice, she replied that she always had a strong and manly voice. She appeared to take a pride in having kept her secret, declaring that she told it to no man, woman, or child, during the time she was in the army; 'for you know, Sir, a drunken man and a child always tell the truth. But,' said she, 'I told my secret to the ground. I dug a hole that would hold a gallon, and whispered it there.' While I was with her, the flies annoyed her extremely; she drove them away with a fan, and said they seemed to smell her out as one that was going to the grave.

She showed me a wound she had received in her elbow by a bayonet. She lamented the error of her former ways, but excused it by saying, 'When you are at Rome, you must do as Rome does.' When she could not distinctly hear what was said, she raised herself in the bed and thrust her head forward with impatient energy. She said when the king saw her, he called her 'a jolly old fellow.' Though blind, she could discern a glimmering light, and I was told would frequently state the time of day by the effect of light."

The next is copied from a time-worn stone in Weem churchyard, near Aberfeldy, Perthshire:--

In memory of Captain JAMES CARMICHAEL, of Bockland's Regiment.--Died 25th Nov. 1758:

Where now, O Son of Mars, is Honour's aim?

What once thou wast or wished, no more's thy claim.

Thy tomb, Carmichael, tells thy Honour's Roll, And man is born, as thee, to be forgot.

But virtue lives to glaze thy honours o'er, And Heaven will smile when brittle stone's no more.

The following is inscribed on a gravestone in Fort William Cemetery:--

Sacred To the Memory of Captain Patrick Campbell, Late of the 42nd Regiment, Who died on the xiii of December, MDCCCXVI., Aged eighty-three years, A True Highlander, A Sincere Friend, And the best deerstalker Of his day.

A gravestone in Barwick-in-Elmet, Yorkshire, states:--

Here lies, retired from busy scenes, A first lieutenant of Marines, Who lately lived in gay content On board the brave ship "Diligent."

Now stripp'd of all his warlike show, And laid in box of elm below, Confined in earth in narrow borders, He rises not till further orders.

The next is from Dartmouth churchyard:--

THOMAS GOLDSMITH, who died 1714.

He commanded the "Snap Dragon," as Privateer belonging to this port, in the reign of Queen Anne, in which vessel he turned pirate, and ama.s.s'd much riches.

Men that are virtuous serve the Lord; And the Devil's by his friends ador'd; And as they merit get a place Amidst the bless'd or h.e.l.lish race; Pray then, ye learned clergy show Where can this brute, Tom Goldsmith, go?

Whose life was one continued evil, Striving to cheat G.o.d, Man, and Devil.

We find the following at Woodbridge on Joseph Spalding, master mariner, who departed this life Sept. 2nd, 1796, aged 55:--

Embark'd in life's tempestuous sea, we steer 'Midst threatening billows, rocks and shoals; But Christ by faith, dispels each wavering fear, And safe secures the anchor of our souls.

In Selby churchyard, the following is on John Edmonds, master mariner, who died 5th Aug., 1767:--

Tho' Boreas, with his bl.u.s.tering blasts Has tost me to and fro, Yet by the handiwork of G.o.d, I'm here enclosed below.

And in this silent bay I lie With many of our fleet, Until the day that I set sail My Saviour Christ to meet.

Another, on the south side of Selby churchyard:--

The boisterous main I've travers'd o'er, New seas and lands explored, But now at last, I'm anchor'd fast, In peace and silence moor'd.

In the churchyard, Selby, near the north porch, in memory of William Whittaker, mariner, who died 22nd Oct., 1797, we read--

Oft time in danger have I been Upon the raging main, But here in harbour safe at rest Free from all human pain.

Southill Church, Bedfordshire, contains a plain monument to the memory of Admiral Byng, who was shot at Portsmouth:--

To the perpetual disgrace of public justice, The Honourable JOHN BYNG, Vice-Admiral of the Blue, fell a martyr to political persecution, March 14, in the year 1757; when bravery and loyalty were insufficient securities for the life and honour of a naval officer.

The following epitaph, inscribed on a stone in Putney churchyard, is nearly obliterated:--

Lieut. ALEX. DAVIDSON Royal Navy has Caus'd this Stone to be Erected to the Memory of HARRIOT his dearly beloved Wife who departed this Life Jan 24 1808 Aged 38 Years.

I have crossed this Earth's Equator Just sixteen times And in my Country's cause have brav'd far distant climes In Howe's Trafalgar and several Victories more Firm and unmov'd I heard the Fatal Cannons roar Trampling in human blood I felt not any fear Nor for my Slaughter'd gallant Messmates shed A tear But of A dear Wife by Death unhappily beguil'd Even the British Sailor must become A child Yet when from this Earth G.o.d shall my soul unfetter I hope we'll meet in Another World and a better.

Some time ago a correspondent of the _Spectator_ stated: "As you are not one to despise 'unconsidered trifles' when they have merit, perhaps you will find room for the following epitaph, on a Deal boatman, which I copied the other day from a tombstone in a churchyard in that town:--

In memory of GEORGE PHILLPOT, Who died March 22nd, 1850, aged 74 years.

Full many a life he saved With his undaunted crew; _He put his trust in Providence_, AND CARED NOT HOW IT BLEW.

A hero; his heroic life and deeds, and the philosophy of religion, perfect both in theory and practice, which inspired them, all described in four lines of graphic and spirited verse! Would not 'rare Ben' himself have acknowledged this a good specimen of 'what verse can say in a little?'

Whoever wrote it was a poet 'with the name.'

"There is another in the same churchyard which, though weak after the above, and indeed not uncommon, I fancy, in seaside towns, is at least sufficiently quaint:--

Memory of JAMES EPPS b.u.t.tRESS, who, in rendering a.s.sistance to the French Schooner, "Vesuvienne," was drowned, December 27th, 1852, aged 39.

Though Boreas' blast and Neptune's wave Did toss me to and fro, In spite of both, by G.o.d's decree, I harbour here below; And here I do at anchor ride With many of our fleet, Yet once again I must set sail, Our Admiral, Christ, to meet.

Also two sons, who died in infancy, &c.