In "Chronicles of the Tombs," by Thomas Joseph Pettigrew, published in 1857, it is stated respecting the foregoing epitaph: "Smoke money or chimney money is now collected at Battle, in Sussex, each householder paying one penny to the Lord of the Manor. It is also levied upon the inhabitants of the New Forest, in Hants, for the right of cutting peat and turf for fuel. And from 'Audley's Companion to the Almanac,' page 76, we learn that 'anciently, even in England, Whitsun farthings, or smoke farthings, were a composition for offerings made in the Whitsun week, by every man who occupied a house with a chimney, to the cathedral of the diocese in which he lived.' The late Mr. E. B. Price has observed, in _Notes and Queries_, (Vol. ii. p. 379), that there is a church at Northampton, upon which is an inscription recording that the expense of repairing it was defrayed by a grant of chimney money for, I believe, seven years, temp. Charles II." In the burial-ground of St. Michael's Church, London, was interred one of the waiters of the famous Boar's Head Tavern:-- Here lieth the bodye of ROBERT PRESTON, late Drawer at the Boar's Head Tavern, Great Eastcheap, who departed this Life, March 16, Anno Domini 1730, aged 27 years. Bacchus, to give the topeing world surprize, Produc'd one sober son, and here he lies. Tho' nurs'd among full Hogsheads, he defy'd The charm of wine and ev'ry vice beside. O Reader, if to Justice thou'rt inclined, Keep Honest Preston daily in thy Mind. He drew good wine, took care to fill his pots, Had sundry virtues that outweighed his fauts, (_sic_) You that on Bacchus have the like dependence, Pray copy Bob, in measure and attendance. The next example from Abesford, on an exciseman, is entitled to a place among Bacchanalian epitaphs:-- No supervisor's check he fears-- Now no commissioner obeys; He's free from cares, entreaties, tears, And all the heavenly oil surveys. In the churchyard of North Wingfield, Derbyshire, a gravestone bears the following inscription:-- In Memory of THOMAS, son of JOHN and MARY CLAY, who departed this life December 16th 1724, in the 40th year of his age. What though no mournful kindred stand Around the solemn bier, No parents wring the trembling hand, Or drop the silent tear. No costly oak adorned with art My weary limbs inclose; No friends impart a winding-sheet To deck my last repose.