When he marries, the ceremony is
performed by the Honourable and very Reverend the Dean of some place, to
whom he claims a distant relationship. He takes his wine in moderation;
never bets, nor plays above guinea points, and _always_ at whist. He goes
to church regularly; his pew is a square one, with green curtains. He
dines upon fish on Good Friday, and declines visiting during Passion week
in mixed parties. If he ever had any peccadilloes of any kind, they are
buried in a cloud as snug as that which shrouded the pious Eneas when he
paid his first visit to Queen Dido.
He dies, aged fifty-seven, of a pleuritic attack, complicated with angina
pectoris; and having left fifty pounds to each of the principal charitable
institutions of his neighbourhood, and fifty pounds to the churchwardens
of his parish, to be distributed amongst the poor professing the religion
of the Church of England, he is buried in his "family vault," and his last
wish fulfilled,--that is to say, his epitaph is composed in Latin, and the
inscription put up under the especial care and inspection of his friend Dr.
Dusty of Oxford. _Requiescat._
* * * * *
THE VILLAGE CEMETERY.
In the _New Monthly Magazine_, just published is a powerful poem--the
_Splendid Village_, by the author of "Corn-law Rhymes.
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