tainly as long as he could live on marble, in a village
churchyard, or elsewhere.
The waste of toil and money, which means time, taken from the poor and needy by the strong and wealthy, in conducting funerals and celebrating doubtful virtues by building monuments, is some thing enormous. Even good taste, to say nothing of this great sacrifice of time, should rise above a desire to ride to the grave in a hundred empty carriages, and crop up through the grass in shame less boast of all the virtues possible, chiselled there. Particularly in an age when successful soap boilers, or packers of pork, rival the most refined in the elegance of tombs and flourish of epitaphs. Another good reason why I protest against this display about the dead, is that so much is done about the worthless and worn-out body, that the mind is constantly directed down into the dismal grave, instead of being lifted to the light of heaven with the immortal spirit. One good reason is enough for anything.
Besides, there is a waste of land in the present custom that is inexcusable. Remember, all waste time, all waste labour, all waste land, is loss. That loss must be borne by some one, some portion of the country; and it is not the wealthy or refined who must bear it. True, they may directly take the money from their purses, but indirectly all such losses are borne by the poor. Sift it down and you will see.
Death to the poor man is a terrible thing, made
