to all, to the wise and the most ignorant; it is
condescending, perspicuous, and lovingly solicits regard; its story
and admonitions are brief, that the thoughtless, the busy, and
indolent, may not be deterred, nor the impatient tired; the stooping
old Man cons the engraven record like a second horn-book;--the Child
is proud that he can read it--and the Stranger is introduced by its
mediation to the company of a Friend: it is concerning all, and for
all:--in the Churchyard it is open to the day; the sun looks down upon
the stone, and the rains of Heaven beat against it.

Yet, though the Writer who would excite sympathy is bound in this case
more than in any other, to give proof that he himself has been moved,
it is to be remembered, that to raise a Monument is a sober and a
reflective act; that the inscription which it bears is intended to be
permanent, and for universal perusal; and that, for this reason, the
thoughts and feelings expressed should be permanent also--liberated
from that weakness and anguish of sorrow which is in nature
transitory, and which with instinctive decency retires from notice.
The passions should be subdued, the emotions controlled; strong
indeed, but nothing ungovernable or wholly involuntary. Seemliness
requires this, and truth requires it also: for how can the Narrator
otherwise be trusted? Moreover, a Grave is a tranquillizing object:
resignation in course of time springs up from it as naturally as the
wild flowers, besprinkling the turf with which it may be covered, or
gathering round the monument by which it is defended. The very form
and substance of the monument which has received the inscription, and
the appearance of the letters, testifying with what a slow and
laborious hand they must have been engraven, might seem to reproach
the Author who had given way upon this occasion to transports of mind,
or to quick turns of conflicting passion; though the same might
constitute the life and beauty of a funeral Oration or elegiac Poem.

These sensations and judgments, acted upon perhaps unconsciously, have
been one of the main causes why Epitaphs so often personate the
Deceased, and represent him as speaking from his own Tombstone. The
departed Mortal is introduced telling you himself that his pains are
gone; that a state of rest is come; and he conjures you to weep for
him no longer. He admonishes with the voice of one experienced in the
vanity of those affections which are confined to ear