On the north wall of the chancel of Southam Church is a slab to the memory of the Rev. Samuel Sands, who, being embarrassed in consequence of his extensive liberality, committed suicide in his study (now the hall of the rectory). The peculiarity of the inscription, instead of suppressing inquiry, invariably raises curiosity respecting it:--
Near this place was deposited, on the 23rd April, 1815, the remains of S. S., 38 years rector of this parish.
From St. Margaret's, Lynn, on William Scrivenor, cook to the Corporation, who died in 1684, we have the following epitaph:--
Alas! alas! WILL. SCRIVENOR'S dead, who by his art, Could make Death's Skeleton edible in each part. Mourn, squeamish Stomachs, and ye curious Palates, You've lost your dainty Dishes and your Salades: Mourn for yourselves, but not for him i' th' least. He's gone to taste of a more Heav'nly Feast.
The next was written by Capt. Morris on Edward Heardson (thirty years cook to the Beefsteak Society):--
His last _steak_ done; his fire rak'd out and dead, _Dish'd_ for the worms himself, lies _honest Ned_: _We_, then, whose breasts bore all his _fleshly toils_, Took all his _bastings_ and shared all his _broils_; Now, in our turn, _a mouthful carve_ and _trim_, And _dress_ at Phoebus' _fire_, one _scrap_ for him:-- His heart which well might grace the noblest grave, Was grateful, patient, modest, just and brave; And ne'er did earth's wide maw _a morsel_ gain Of _kindlier juices_ or more tender _grain_; His tongue, where duteous friendship humbly dwelt, Charm'd all who heard the faithful zeal he felt; Still to whatever end his _chops_ he mov'd, 'Twas all _well season'd_, _relish'd_, and approv'd; This room his heav'n!--When threat'ning Fate drew nigh The closing shade that dimm'd his ling'ring eye, His last fond hopes, betray'd by many a tear, Were--That his life's last _spark_ might glimmer here; And the last words that choak'd his parting sigh-- "Oh! at your feet, dear masters, let me die!"
In St. John's churchyard, Chester, is an inscription as follows:--
Under this stone lieth the Broken Remains of STEPHEN JONES who had his leg cut off without the Consent of Wife or Friends on the 23rd October, 1842, in which day he died. Aged 31 years. Reader I bid you farewell. May the Lord have mercy on you in the day of trouble.