"How will it pleasure their relatives to know that lies is wrote over them, and that everybody in the place knows that they be lies ?" He pointed to a stone at our feet which had been laid down as a slab, on which the seat was rested, close to the edge of the cliff.

"Read the lies on that thruff-stone," he said.
The letters were upside down to me from where I sat, but Lucy was more opposite to them, so she leant over and read, "Sacred to the memory of George Canon, who died, in the hope of a glorious resurrection, on July 29, 1873, falling from the rocks at Kettleness.

This tomb was erected by his sorrowing mother to her dearly beloved son.

'He was the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.' Really, Mr.Swales, I don't see anything very funny in that!" She spoke her comment very gravely and somewhat severely.
"Ye don't see aught funny! Ha-ha! But that's because ye don't gawm the sorrowin' mother was a hell-cat that hated him because he was acrewk'd, a regular lamiter he was, an' he hated her so that he committed suicide in order that she mightn't get an insurance she put on his life.

He blew nigh the top of his head off with an old musket that they had for scarin' crows with.