BEDDINGTON.

Thomas Greenhill.

Under thy feet interr'd is here A native born in Oxfordshire; First life and learning Oxford gave, Surry him his death and grave; He once a Hill was fresh and Greene, Now withered is not to be seene; Earth in earth shovell'd up is shut, A Hill into a Hole is put; But darksome earth by Power Divine, Bright at last as the sun may shine.

RICHMOND.

On Captain John Dunch, who died in 1697, aged 67.

Though Boreas' blasts and Neptune's waves Have tossed me to and fro, In spight of both, by G.o.d's decree, I anchor here below, Where I do now at anchor ride, With many of our fleet, Yet once again I must set sail, Our admiral, Christ, to meet.

CAMBERWELL.

Richard Wade, died Oct. 21, 1810, aged 53.

Giles Wade, died Dec. 8, 1810, aged 53.

Near together they came, Near together they went, Near together they are.

Suss.e.x.

BARCOMB.

All you that come my grave to see Prepare yourself to Follow me, Take care Young men repent in time For I was taken in my Prime.

As I was going through a Barn I little thought of any harm, A piece of Timber on me fell, And penetrated through my Skull.

My Eyes were Blinded I could not see, My Parents they did weep for Me, My Time was come I was Forced to go, And bid the World and Them Adieu.

Just six and thirty hours I lay In great Pain and Agony, Till the Archangel bid me come, And called my Soul to its last Home.

CHICHESTER.

A certain n.o.ble lord of no very moral life, dying, had inscribed upon his tomb, the phrase, "Ultima Domus,"-Collins, the poet, is said to have pencill'd those lines under the words:-

Did he who wrote upon this wall, Believe or disbelieve St. Paul?

Who says where-er it is or stands, There is another house not made with hands, Or do we gather from these words, That house is not a house of lords?

Here lies an old soldier whom all must applaud, Who fought many battles at home and abroad; But the hottest engagement he ever was in, Was the conquest of self in the battle of sin.

BEXHILL.

On a Young Lady.

I lay me down to rest me, And pray to G.o.d to bless me, And if I sleep and never wake, I pray to G.o.d my soul to take This night for Evermore-Amen.

WEST GRINSTEAD.

Vast Strong was I, but yet did dye, And in my Grave asleep I Lye, My Grave is Stoned all round about, But I hope the Lord will find me out.

MAYFIELD.

Oh reader! if that thou can'st read Look down upon this stone; Do all we can, Death is a man, What never spareth none.

STORRINGTON.

Here lies the body of Edward Hide, We laid him here because he died, We had rather It been his father, If it had been his sister We should not have missed her, But since 'tis honest Ned, No more shall be said.

Here lies my poor wife, without bed or blanket, But dead as a door nail, G.o.d be thanked.

LAVANT.

Mr. Samford, Blacksmith.

My Sledge and hammer lie reclined, My Bellows, too, have lost their wind; My fire's extinct, my forge decayed, And in the dust my vice is laid; My coal is spent, my iron gone, My nails are drove, my work is done.