Once quiet inhabitant of this unquiet World.

Here lies 'Squire LaAvrence, settled to his will,
Who while he lived did nothing but lie still,
For fifty years he breath'd in yonder dell
But what he lived for nobody could tell ;
So indolent, at length, he forestall'd Death
And died because he would not draw his breath.
He wanted wisdom—yet had not much of folly,
Mirth had lie none—not much of melancholy.
None ever praised him—few could ever blame,
For to do nothing was his only aim ;
Calm as a Avell, did life's dull current glide.
He scarcely lived, although they say he died.