THE TIRED WOMAN.
(To THE EDITOR OP THE "SPECTATOR."] Sta,—In reply to the letter of "Tired Woman" in your issue of the 10th, I send herewith a transcript from a copy of the epitaph supplied to me by a friend some two years ago. The name of the author is unknown to me.—I am, Sir, Lc., E. A. WALLIS Bence.
British Museum.
"FROM IRE T03111E-ONE OF A MAID-orALL•WORK, Here lies a poor woman who always was tired, Who lived in a house ivhere no help was hired. Her last words on earth were: 'Dear friends, I am going Where there won'tbe no scrubbing, nor sweeping, nor sewing, But everything there is exact to my wishes.
For where there's no eating there's no washing of dishes I'll be where loud anthems is always a ringing, But as I've no voice I'm clear of the singing.
Don't mourn for me now, don't mourn for me never, For I'm going to do nothing for ever and ever.'"
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