A truly Happy Person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour. And, one who can enjoy browsing old cemeteries… Some fascinating things are on old tombstones!

Harry Edsel Smith of Albany, New York: Born 1903–Died 1942. Looked up the elevator shaft to see if the car was on the way down. It was.

In a Thurmont, Maryland, cemetery: Here lies an Atheist, all dressed up and no place to go.

On the grave of Ezekiel Aikle in East Dalhousie Cemetery , Nova Scotia : Here lies Ezekiel Aikle, Age 102. Only the Good Die Young.

In a London, England cemetery: Here lies Ann Mann, Who lived an old maid but died an old Mann. Dec. 8, 1767

In a Ribbesford, England, cemetery: Anna Wallace The children of Israel wanted bread, And the Lord sent them manna. Clark Wallace wanted a wife, and the Devil sent him Anna.

In a Ruidoso, New Mexico, cemetery: Here lies Johnny Yeast… Pardon me for not rising.

In a Uniontown, Pennsylvania, cemetery: Here lies the body of Jonathan Blake. Stepped on the gas instead of the brake.

In a Silver City, Nevada, cemetery: Here lays The Kid. We planted him raw. He was quick on the trigger but slow on the draw.

A lawyer’s epitaph in England: Sir John Strange. Here lies an honest lawyer, and that is Strange.

John Penny’s epitaph in the Wimborne, England, cemetery: Reader, if cash thou art in want of any, Dig 6 feet deep and thou wilt find a Penny.

In a cemetery in Hartscombe, England : On the 22nd of June, Jonathan Fiddle went out of tune.

Anna Hopewell’s grave in Enosburg Falls, Vermont: Here lies the body of our Anna, Done to death by a banana. It wasn’t the fruit that laid her low, but the skin of the thing that made her go.

On a grave from the 1880s in Nantucket, Massachusetts : Under the sod and under the trees, Lies the body of Jonathan Pease. He is not here, there’s only the pod. Pease shelled out and went to God.

In a cemetery in England : Remember man, as you walk by, As you are now, so once was I As I am now, so shall you be. Remember this and follow me. To which someone replied by writing on the tombstone: To follow you I’ll not consent … Until I know which way you went.