may say it is not
likely that such a frigid composition as the former would have ever been
applied to a man whose death had so stirred up the hearts of his
contemporaries, if it had not been felt that something different from
that nature which each man carried in his own breast was in his case
requisite; and that a certain straining of mind was inseparable from the
subject. Accordingly, an epitaph is adopted in which the Writer had
turned from the genuine affections and their self-forgetting
inspirations, to the end that his understanding, or the faculty
designated by the word _head_ as opposed to _heart_, might curiously
construct a fabric to be wondered at. Hyperbole in the language of
Montrose is a mean instrument made mighty because wielded by an
afflicted soul, and strangeness is here the order of Nature. Montrose
stretched after remote things, but was at the same time propelled
towards them; the French Writer goes deliberately in search of them: no
wonder then if what he brings home does not prove worth the carriage.

Let us return to an instance of common life. I quote it with reluctance,
not so much for its absurdity as that the expression in one place will
strike at first sight as little less than impious; and it is indeed,
though unintentionally so, most irreverent. But I know no other example
that will so forcibly illustrate the important truth I wish to
establish. The following epitaph is to be found in a church-yard in
Westmoreland; which the present Writer has reason to think of with
interest as it contains the remains of some of his ancestors and
kindred. The date is 1678.

Under this Stone, Reader, inter'd doth lye,
Beauty and Virtue's true epitomy.
At her appearance the noone-son
Blush'd and shrunk in 'cause quite outdon.
In her concentered did all graces dwell:
God pluck'd my rose that He might take a smel.
I'll say no more: but weeping wish I may
Soone with thy dear chaste ashes com to lay.
Sic efflevit Maritus.

Can anything go beyond this in extravagance? yet, if the fundamental
thoughts be translated into a natural style, they will be found
reasonable and affecting--'The woman who lies here interred, was in my
eyes a perfect image of beauty and virtue; she was to me a brighter
object than the sun in heaven: God took her, who was my delight, from
this earth to bring her nearer to Himself. Nothing further is worthy