 | Saratoga in 1901 |  |
EPITAPHS.
The tombstone epitaphs of the ancient Saratogians are too
amusing to escape a history.
“Come with me,” said the old Sexton, “and I'll show you
some fun here among the tombstones. This,” said he, pointing
to a small stone on which was cut a picture of a portable engine,
“this was erected by Mr.—, whose son was killed by the
explosion of his engine.”
The funny verse below reads:
No water does her boiler fill;
Wood affords it flame no more,
My days of usefulness are o'er.”
We next came to a stone on the top of which was an immense
clam or oyster shell, with the clam or oyster gone, as I thought,
to designate the flight of the soul.
“What does it mean?” I asked.
“Well, Ransom Cook,” said the old Sexton, “was a good sea
captain, and some say he is quite a philosopher. He says the
clam matures, opens and is then eaten up by some larger fish,—
and that would be the end of us all; and he sticks to his faith to
the end. He had this clam-shell cut in marble for his tombstone.
Some people say this means that `he is happy as a clam!'
but I don't know. He ought to be happy, for he's a good
Ransom isn't dead yet.”
The next epitaph was erected to Emma A., daughter of
Abram Cox, and wife of Theodore Schallehn, who married
against her father's will. On her death, Abram Cox inscribed
upon her tombstone—
She married too young against her father's will:
Single women, take warning!”
This epitaph caused a good deal of family difficulty, when one
day her late husband, who thought the epitaph reflected upon
him, took away the stone, and had inscribed upon it:
To mourn her untimely loss.”
This one is very pretty and tells a tale of love and grief:
But, O God! `Thy will be done.”'
The next was an old crumbling tombstone, perhaps a century
old, and reads:
1 year a wife,
2 months a mother,
And that took her life.”
Here comes a sturdy Puritan epitaph:
A. DEDRICK,
A sinner saved by God!”
Here is the epitaph to two babies:
Of the small-pox both of them died.
Their ages were seven and nine—
Prepare to meet your God in time.”
What a sweet epitaph has old Cruger Walton placed upon
the tombstone of his wife! It is like Claudes description of his
Alpine Home:
Of day or dreaming night, but I am with thee;
There's not a wind but whispers of thy name,
And not a flower that sleeps beneath the moon.
But in its hues or fragrance tells a tale
Of thee—”
On an old Dutch stone, under the name of Jacob Veder is
written:
Who left three children to do the best they can.”
Alice Harvey puts up this quaint inscription to her sister:
The Lord bids me come;
Likewise my dear mother,
'Tis now I'm gone home.
May her soul rest in peace—amen!”
A lady friend, at Congress Hall, says this epitaph is in the
graveyard, but I failed to find it:
He walked the way of God perpendicular.”
This epitaph will be seen near the front entrance:
Such rest on earth is never known;
One night she sank on Jesus' breast,
And passed away without a groan.”
In the old churchyard up by the railroad, somebody says,
is this inscription:
Little Johnny's gone to Jesus.”
Some wag from the Clarendon wrote in pencil underneath:
May be Johnny's gone to H—alifax.”
Here is the epitaph of a patriot, who died in Hooker's charge,
at Fredericksburg:
CAPTAIN LUTHER M. WHEELER.
Co. C. 77th Regiment, N. Y. S. M.
Ah! many graves are filled with men
Who lived full three-score years and ten;
Yet were their deeds so few and small,
In fact, they never lived at all.
But Wheeler sprang to take the blows
Aimed at his country by her foes—
He fought and fell for truth:
O let the thought our grief assuage—
In noble deeds he lived an age,
Then nobly died in youth.
Aged 22 years.
Here is an epitaph put up by the wife of a hosier:
To go and sing Hose—annah, in the realms above.”
I saw many beautiful
thoughts chiselled on the
cold and crumbling marble
“sermons on stones”
they were indeed:
Gone to sleep,
May we meet in Heaven!
My husband.
We fade away suddenly like the [grass.
If ye love me, ye would rejoice [because I go unto my Father.”
How sweet is this:
In her lovely narrow bed.
Pelting storm and howling tempest
Cannot reach her little head.”
On one stone was written this injunction:
Here I must lie till Christ appears.”
Here is one which, with a change of the word to children,
father, mother, Charley, Sara, &c., appears a good many times
in the graveyard:
Dearest Robert, thou hast left us,
Susan,
Johnnie,
Here thy loss we deeply feel,
But 'tis God that hath bereft us,
He shall all our sorrows heal.”
Here is another very common one which can be utilized in the
same way:
Peace to thy'ne ashes, May, green be the sod above thee,
John,
Mell,
Flowers shall wave above thy grave,
To prove that we still love thee.”
A fearful shower now threatened from the south, and bidding
adieu to my rough, but kind-hearted old Sexton, I returned to
the festivities of Congress Hall.
Eli Perkins.
| Saratoga in 1901 | |