Here lyes an Old Toss'd Tennis Ball, Was Racketted from Spring to Fall With so much heat, and so much hast, Time's arm (for shame) grew tyr'd at last, Four Kings in Camps he truly seru'd, And from his Loyalty ne'r sweru'd. Father ruin'd, the Son slighted, And from the Crown ne'r requited. Loss of Estate, Relations, Blood, Was too well Known, but did no good, With long Campaigns and paines of th' Govt, He cou'd no longer hold it out: Always a restless life he led, Never at quiet till quite dead, He marry'd in his latter dayes, One who exceeds the com'on praise, But wanting breath still to make Known Her true Affection and his Own, Death kindly came, all wants supply'd By giuing Rest which life deny'd. We conclude this class of epitaphs with a couple of piscatorial examples. The first is from the churchyard of Hythe:-- His net old fisher George long drew, Shoals upon shoals he caught, 'Till Death came hauling for his due, And made poor George his draught. Death fishes on through various shapes, In vain it is to fret; Nor fish nor fisherman escapes Death's all-enclosing net. In the churchyard of Great Yarmouth, under date of 1769, an epitaph runs thus:-- Here lies doomed, In this vault so dark, A soldier weaver, _angler_, and clerk; Death snatched him hence, and from him took His gun, his shuttle, fish-rod, and hook. He could not weave, nor fish, nor fight, so then He left the world, and faintly cried--Amen. EPITAPHS ON TRADESMEN. Many interesting epitaphs are placed to the memory of tradesmen. Often they are not of an elevating character, nor highly poetical, but they display the whims and oddities of men. We will first present a few relating to the watch and clock-making trade. The first specimen is from Lydford churchyard, on the borders of Dartmoor:--