'Put 'er down,' sez 'e--'Put 'er down as the Dearly-Beloved Wife of Samuel Timbs.' 'Now, Timbs,' sez I--'don't ye go foolin' with 'ell-fire! Ye know she wor'nt yer Dearly Beloved, forbye that she used to throw wet dish-clouts at yer 'ed, screechin' at ye for all she was wuth, an' there ain't no Dearly Beloved in that.

Why do ye want to put a lie on a stone for the Lord to read ?' But 'e was as obst'nate as pigs.

'Dish-clouts or no dish-clouts,' sez 'e, 'I'll 'ave 'er fixed up proper as my Dearly-Beloved Wife for sight o' parson an' neighbours.' 'Ah, Sam!' sez I--'I've got ye! It's for parson an' neighbours ye want the hepitaph, an' not for the Lord at all! Well, I'll do it if so be yer wish it, but I won't take the 'sponsibility of it at the Day o' Judgment.' 'I don't want ye to'-- sez 'e, quite peart.

'I'll take it myself.' An' if ye'll believe me, David, 'e sits down an' writes me what 'e calls a 'Memo' of what 'e wants put on the grave stone, an' it's the biggest whopper I've iver seen out o' the noospapers.

I've got it 'ere--" And, referring to a much worn and battered old leather pocket-book, Twitt drew from it a soiled piece of paper, and read as follows-- Here lies All that is Mortal of CATHERINE TIMBS The Dearly Beloved Wife of Samuel Timbs of Weircombe.
She Died At the Early Age of Forty-Nine Full of Virtues and Excellencies Which those who knew Her Deeply Deplore and NOW is in Heaven.
"And the only true thing about that hepitaph,"-- continued Twitt, folding up the paper again and returning it to its former receptacle,--"is the words 'Here Lies.'" Helmsley laughed, and Twitt laughed with him.
"Some folks 'as the curiousest ways o' wantin' theirselves remembered arter they're gone"-- he went on--"An' others seems as if they don't care for no mem'ry at all 'cept in the 'arts o' their friends.