Romancing the stones

It can be seen copied onto a marble slab near the south chancel door and records an amazing set of coincidences affecting the Huntrodds family.

The memorial speaks for itself. It reads:

"Here lie the bodies of Francis Huntrodds and Mary his wife who were born on the same day of the week, month and year, viz: September ye 19th, 1600, married on the day of their birth and after having 12 children born to them died aged 80 years on the same day of the year they were born, September ye 19th, 1680, the one not above five hours before the other."

I have no further details of this remarkable family although I recall that Huntrodds was still a family name in Eskdale when I was a child.

Some of our older epitaphs can tell a good story and some did not shrink from reminding the reader of the truthful life of the subject lying below, however unpleasant it might have been. This one comes from a churchyard in Canterbury: "Of children in all she bore twenty-four, thank the Lord there will be no more."

Another in Wales says: "This spot is the sweetest I've seen in my life, it raises my flowers and covers my wife."

This is in a Cornish churchyard: "Here lies Ned, I'm glad he's dead. If there must be another, I wish t'were his brother; then for the good of the nation, the whole generation." How friendly! I wonder who wrote it?

And this one is almost as rude: "Here lies John Hill, a man of skill whose age was five times ten. He never did good and never would, if he lived as long again."

In another case, a loving wife left this message on her tombstone: "Grieve not for me, my husband dear, I am not dead, but sleeping here. With patience wait and prepare to die, and in short time you'll come to I." However, her husband added his own lines: "I am not grieved, my dearest wife. Sleep on, I've got another wife.

Therefore I cannot come to thee, for I must go and live with she."

There is much unwitting humour too. I like this one: "Erected to the memory of John Phillips, accidentally shot as a mark of affection by his brother."

It is similar to: "Sacred to the memory of Major James Brush, RA, who was killed by the accidental discharge of a pistol by his orderly, 14th April, 1851. Well done thou good and faithful servant."

Another reads: "Here lies the body of Anne Lowder who died while drinking a Seidlitz powder. Called from this earth to her heavenly rest, she should have waited till it effervesced." And how about this for brevity: "Here lies the body of William Beck, he was thrown at a hunt and broke his neck." Or, "Here I lies in a pickle, killed by icicle."

On occasions, the deceased prefer to leave message on their tombstones. Here is one from Devonshire dated 1797: "Reader, pass on, nor waste your precious time on bad biography and murdered rhyme. What I was before's well known to my neighbours. What am I now is no concern of yours."

One of my favourite messages is from a graveyard near Skipton in the Yorkshire Dales: "Think of me now as you pass by.

As you are now, so once was I. As I am now some day you'll be, so prepare ye now to follow me." But someone wrote underneath: "To follow you I'm not content, I do not know which way you went."

Perhaps one of the most touching is a pillar which stands near the porch of the parish church at Newton Linford near Leicester. It contains nothing more than a jumble of letters and figures in no particular order. Apparently a small boy in the village was illiterate but his great desire was to become a carver of stone and so he practised on that pillar. When he died, it became his tombstone but sadly, it does not record any of his personal details.

There are thousands of these wonderful memorials and it is difficult to select a favourite. I must admit I like this one: "There was a young man who averred, he had learned to fly like a bird. Watched by thousands of people, he leapt from this steeple. This tomb marks the date it occurred."

And perhaps the most concise? Charles Knight's tomb says simply "Good Knight."