A fine large marble tomb, to the memory of the Honourable Ashton Warner, who died 11th of February, 1762, stands near to this very original sepulchral acrostic; and at no great distance a single stone to the memory of some admiral (the inscription obliterated) with its anchors and flags, and escutcheons. On the east side of the north vestibule stands the tomb of Major-general George W. Ramsey, governor-in-chief of Antigua, Monserrat, and Barbados, in 1816, who departed this life, November 1st, 1819, in the 58th year of his age. The iron railing has become rusted and bent,[79] and the tomb bears many a blackened mark. Near to the last resting-place of governor Ramsey, stands another very handsome tomb of white marble, erected to that well-known and eccentric character, Patrick Kirwan. He was a native of Galway, and as true an Irishman as ever handled a shillelah, or vowed devotion to “the shamrock so green.” Mr. Kirwan resided in Antigua for many years, as a planter and proprietor of estates, where his “bulls and blunders” are still remembered and repeated with delight. Upon one occasion he sent for a sun-dial from England, which he intended to have erected near his dwelling; but upon its arrival, it looked so smart with its golden rays and gnomen, that “Pat” pronounced it the very height of profanation to have such a pretty “cratur” exposed to the relentless shafts of master Sol; and so to preserve its beauty, and keep all secure, he had a tight snug shed built over it, which eventually forbid the entrance of any straggling sunbeam which might feel inclined to call upon it, to learn the hour. Poor Mr. Kirwan! his Irish blood was always leading him to commit blunders, which were sure to raise a laugh at his expense. During a partial rebellion of the negroes, at a period when he was manager of an estate, a few miles from the capital, he one morning presented himself before the proprietor with a very flushed face, and excited mien— “Good morning, Mr. Kirwan,” said his employer. “What brings you to town so suddenly—you look alarmed, I hope nothing is the matter?” “Faith, an there is though!” retorted the Irishman, “and if the blessed St. Patrick himself had been here, he would have looked alarmed too. Why, there’s a perfect _resurrection_ of the negroes upon your estate!” “A what?” inquired the surprised proprietor. “A perfect _resurrection_,” repeated Pat, “and I have come to ask you what I must do?” His employer could scarcely repress a smile at this strange intelligence. At length, however, he summoned gravity enough to reply, “If that’s the case, Mr. Kirwan, the best advice I can give you is, to put a _hoe_ into their hands as fast as they rise, and set them to work immediately.” But with all his “_bulls and blunders_,” Mr. Kirwan was deservedly respected, and his death universally regretted. He died in 1819, in the 66th year of his age. The inscription upon his monument informs us “By his direction this tomb was erected.”