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‘Twas clear he would not close the door,
And yet cried (h) Old Moore, Old Moore.

349. From the same place, on a Dyer:—

Here lies a man who first did dye
When he was 24,
And yet he lived to reach the age
Of hoary hairs fourscore.
But now he’s gone, and certain ‘tis
He’ll not dye any more

350. From the same place:—

Here lies John Wheedle, Parish Beedle,
Who was so very knowing;
His wisdom’s gone, and so is he,
Because he left off growing.

351. From the same place:—

Here lies one, a sailor’s bride,
Who widowed was because of the tide;
It drowned her husband—so she died.

352. On a Member of the House of Lords:—

Ultimum Domum:
Did he who wrote upon this wall,
Ere read or disbelieve St. Paul?
Who tells us that in foreign lands
There is a house not made with hands:
Or must we gather from these words
That house is not a House of Lords!

353. From New Jersey:—