This first John was a man of considerable importance, being twice mentioned with the honorable prefix of Mr. in the town records.  Name spelt with two l-s.

’Hear lyeth y’e bod [stone unhappily broken.]
Mr. Ihon Wilber [Esq.] [I inclose this in brackets as doubtful. 
  To me it seems clear.]
Ob’t die [illegible; looks like xviii.].... iii [prob. 1693.]
    ... paynt
    ... deseased seinte: 
A friend and [fath]er untoe all y’e opreast,
Hee gave y’e wicked familists noe reast,
When Sat[an bl]ewe his Antinomian blaste. 
Wee clong to [Willber as a steadf]ast maste.
[A]gaynst y’e horrid Qua[kers] ...’

It is greatly to be lamented that this curious epitaph is mutilated.  It is said that the sacrilegious British soldiers made a target of the stone during the war of Independence.  How odious an animosity which pauses not at the grave!  How brutal that which spares not the monuments of authentic history!  This is not improbably from the pen of Rev. Moody Pyram, who is mentioned by Hubbard as having been noted for a silver vein of poetry.  If his papers be still extant, a copy might possibly be recovered.

THE BIGLOW PAPERS

No.  I

A LETTER

FROM MR. EZEKIEL BIGLOW OF JAALAM TO THE HON.  JOSEPH T. BUCKINGHAM, EDITOR OF THE BOSTON COURIER, INCLOSING A POEM OF HIS SON, MR. HOSEA BIGLOW

JAYLEM, june 1846.

MISTER EDDYTER:—­Our Hosea wuz down to Boston last week, and he see a cruetin Sarjunt a struttin round as popler as a hen with 1 chicking, with 2 fellers a drummin and fifin arter him like all nater. the sarjunt he thout Hosea hedn’t gut his i teeth cut cos he looked a kindo ’s though he’d jest com down, so he cal’lated to hook him in, but Hosy woodn’t take none o’ his sarse for all he hed much as 20 Rooster’s tales stuck onto his hat and eenamost enuf brass a bobbin up and down on his shoulders and figureed onto his coat and trousis, let alone wut nater hed sot in his featers, to make a 6 pounder out on.

wal, Hosea he com home considerabal riled, and arter I’d gone to bed I heern Him a thrashin round like a short-tailed Bull in fli-time.  The old Woman ses she to me ses she, Zekle, ses she, our Hosee’s gut the chollery or suthin anuther ses she, don’t you Bee skeered, ses I, he’s oney amakin pottery[10] ses i, he’s ollers on hand at that ere busynes like Da & martin, and shure enuf, cum mornin, Hosy he cum down stares full chizzle, hare on eend and cote tales flyin, and sot rite of to go reed his varses to Parson Wilbur bein he haint aney grate shows o’ book larnin himself, bimeby he cum back and sed the parson wuz dreffle tickled with ’em as i hoop you will Be, and said they wuz True grit.