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's gone, My nails are drove, my work is done; My fire-dried corpse lies here at rest, And, smoke-like, soars up to be bless'd.
If you expect anything more, you are deceived; for I shall only say, Friends, farewell, farewell!" The effect of this address was too visible to pass unnoticed. Some appeared as if awakened from a fearful dream, and gazed at each other in silent astonishment; others for whom it was too powerful for their risible nerves to resist, burst into boisterous laughter, while one and all slowly retired from the scene, to exercise their future cogitations on the farewell discourse of their late pastor.
From Silkstone churchyard we have the following on a Potter and his wife:--
In memory of John Taylor, of Silkstone, potter, who departed this life, July 14th, Anno Domini 1815, aged 72 years.
Also Hannah, his wife, who departed this life, August 13th, 1815, aged 68 years.
Out of the clay they got their daily bread, Of clay were also made. Returned to clay they now lie dead, Where all that's left must shortly go. To live without him his wife she tried, Found the task hard, fell sick, and died. And now in peace their bodies lay, Until the dead be called away, And moulded into spiritual clay.
On a poor woman who kept an earthenware shop at Chester, the following epitaph was composed:--
Beneath this stone lies CATHERINE GRAY, Changed to a lifeless lump of clay; By earth and clay she got her pelf, And now she's turned to earth herself. Ye weeping friends, let me advise, Abate your tears and dry your eyes; For what avails a flood of tears? Who knows but in a course of years, In some tall pitcher or brown pan, She in her shop may be again.
Our next is from the churchyard of Aliscombe, Devonshire:--
Here lies the remains of JAMES PADY, brickmaker, late of this parish, in hopes that his clay will be remoulded in a workmanlike manner, far superior to his former perishable materials.
Keep death and judgment always in your eye, Or else the devil off with you will fly, And in his kiln with brimstone ever fry: If you neglect the narrow road to seek, Christ will reject you, like a half-burnt brick!
