melancholy tale. It has a touching simplicity, evincing the sensibilities of a deeply wounded heart This Plain Stone is here erected The beloved, affectionate, and excellent Wife Who e'er retained for her this heartfelt boast, "That he who knew her best, did love her most." Never was separation or bereavement more or the loss of an amiable Wife more deeply by a sorrowing husband: Yet he sorrowed not as those who have no hope; for HE believed that she was a REAL CHRISTIAN. She died Jan. 3, 1805, Stranger or Friend! hast THOU a partner dear? Go, press her closer to thine aching heart: With silent wing the moment hastens near, The solemn moment when YE too must part! After this sad event MR. RICHARDS never visited Wisbeach without frequenting the spot where the ashes of his beloved spouse are deposited. Here he would pass an hour of serious and solemn reflection. Meditation among the Tombs is a profitable exercise. The passions are hushed, and the ten derest emotions of the human heart indulged. The world recedes, and even sinks in our estimation. The soul concentrated within herself, meditates on MORTALITY and IMMORTALITY It is good for us to be here; if thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles, one for thee, one for Moses, and one for Elias.-Matt. xvii. 4*. Methinks-IT IS GOOD TO BE HERE If thou wilt, let us build-but for WHOM? But the shadows of eve that encompass the gloom, Shall we build to AMBITION? Oh no Affrighted he shrinketh away; In a small narrow cave, and begirt with cold clay, TO BEAUTY? Ah no-she forgets The charms which she wielded before, The skin which but yesterday fools could adore * The following original commentary was written in Richmond church-yard, by HERBERT KNOWLES, who died, aged 19, Sept. 17, 1818, only four days after the decease of my friend. RESURGAM-SO reiteratedly emblazoned on the proud Escutcheon, is a comprehensive word; it embraces in its wide grasp the sum and substance of our COMMON CHRISTIANITY. Shall we build to the purple of PRIDE,- And here's neither dress nor adornments allowed, But the long winding-sheet and the fringe of the shroud. To RICHES? alas! 'tis in vain Who hide, in their turns have been hid, And here in the grave are all metals forbid, To the pleasures which MIRTH can afford, Ah! here is a plentiful board But the guests are all mute at their pitiful cheer, Shall we build to AFFECTION and LOVE? Friends, brothers, and sisters are laid side by side, Unto SCRROW?-the dead cannot grieve, Not a sob, not a sigh meets mine ear, Which compassion itself could relieveAh! sweetly they slumber, nor love, hope, or fear, Peace, Peace is the watch-word, the only one here! Unto DEATH? to whom monarchs must bow? Ah-no-for his empire is known, And here there are trophies enow! Beneath the cold dead, and around the dark stone Are the signs of a sceptre that none may disown. The first tabernacle to HOPE we will build, And look for the sleepers around us to rise! The second to FAITH, which ensures it fulfill'd! And the third to THE LAMB of the Great Sacrifice, Who bequeath'd us them both when He rose to the skies! MR. RICHARDS overcome with grief, withdrew himself from society; nor did he appear abroad even amongst his friends for seven years. To use his own expressive words (in the preface to his History of Lynn), "A sudden and severe domestic affliction, from the effects of which he has never recovered, obliged the present writer to seek in solitude some alleviation of his sorrow, which he despaired of finding in the way of social intercourse, and even found himself incapable of attempting it, without offering unbearable violence to his feelings." Thus shut up in retirement, and buried amongst books, he tried to beguile his melancholy by forming and pursuing certain literary projects, among which was an Ecclesiastical History of Wales, which had often before employed his thoughts, and likewise a general History of Lynn, which has been his place of residence now near forty years, and whose history had also not unfrequently engaged his attention." During this long interval of MR. RICHARDS' seclusion from society, another circumstance heightened the distress, and augmented the gloom of his condition. A particular friend, the late Rev. Daniel Jones, of Trowbridge, recommended to him, about five years after the loss of his wife, a Lady in Wales, Miss Elizabeth Price. An union with her, he thought, might be the means of restoring him to his friends, and rendering him happy the remainder of his days. She was intelligent and pious, mild in her temper, and gentle in her manners. With her he corresponded, and a mutual attachment had commenced; but alas! she was snatched away by a very sudden indisposition, deeply lamented, and by no individual more than by the subject of this Memoir. This second blow rendered him almost inconsolable. These are delicate topics for the eye of the world. But it is the dissolution of these exquisitely endearing attachments that embitters our enjoyments. Poisoning human happiness at the very fountain head, it drys up the springs, and withers all the energies of terrestrial felicity! Religion alone administers effectual relief; holding up to view the uncontaminated and never-dying glories of a better world. Throughout his life, beside an application to literary pursuits, MR. RICHARDS was engaged in an extensive correspondence. He had a large acquaintance in England and Wales, as well as in the M |