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interesting epitaphs are placed to the memory of tradesmen. Often they are not of an elevating character, nor highly poetical, but they display the whims and oddities of men. We will first present a few relating to the watch and clock-making trade. The first specimen is from Lydford churchyard, on the borders of Dartmoor: —

Here lies, in horizontal position,the outside case ofGeorge Routleigh, Watchmaker;Whose abilities in that line were an honourto his professionIntegrity was the Mainspring, and prudence theRegulator,of all the actions of his lifeHumane, generous, and liberal,his Hand never stoppedtill he had relieved distressSo nicely regulated were all his motions,that he never went wrong,except when set a-goingby peoplewho did not know his Key;even then he was easilyset right againHe had the art of disposing his time so well,that his hours glided awayin one continual roundof pleasure and delight,until an unlucky minute put a period tohis existenceHe departed this lifeNov. 14, 1802,aged 57:wound up,in hopes of being taken in handby his Maker;and of being thoroughly cleaned, repaired,and set a-goingin the world to come

      In the churchyard of Uttoxeter, a monument is placed to the memory of Joseph Slater, who died November 21st, 1822, aged 49 years: —

      Here lies one who strove to equal time,

      A task too hard, each power too sublime;

      Time stopt his motion, o’erthrew his balance-wheel,

      Wore off his pivots, tho’ made of hardened steel;

      Broke all his springs, the verge of life decayed,

      And now he is as though he’d ne’er been made.

      Such frail machine till time’s no more shall rust,

      And the archangel wakes our sleeping dust;

      Then in assembled worlds in glory join,

      And sing – “The hand that made us is divine.”

      Our next is from Berkeley, Gloucestershire: —

      Here lyeth Thomas Peirce, whom no man taught,

      Yet he in iron, brass, and silver wrought;

      He jacks, and clocks, and watches (with art) made

      And mended, too, when others’ work did fade.

      Of Berkeley, five times Mayor this artist was,

      And yet this Mayor, this artist, was but grass.

      When his own watch was down on the last day,

      He that made watches had not made a key

      To wind it up; but useless it must lie,

      Until he rise again no more to die.

      Died February 25th, 1665, aged 77.

      The following is from Bolsover churchyard, Derbyshire: —

Herelies, in a horizontal position, the outsidecase ofThomas Hinde,Clock and Watch-maker,Who departed this life, wound up in hope ofbeing taken in hand by his Maker, and beingthoroughly cleaned, repaired, and set a-goingin the world to come,On the 15th of August, 1836,In the 19th year of his age

      Respecting the next example, our friend, Mr. Edward Walford, M.A., wrote to the Times as follows: “Close to the south-western corner of the parish churchyard of Hampstead there has long stood a square tomb, with a scarcely decipherable inscription, to the memory of a man of science of the last century, whose name is connected with the history of practical navigation. The tomb, having stood there for more than a century, had become somewhat dilapidated, and has lately undergone a careful restoration at the cost and under the supervision of the Company of Clockmakers, and the fact is recorded in large characters on the upper face. The tops of the upright iron railings which surround the tomb have been gilt, and the restored inscription runs as follows: ‘In memory of Mr. John Harrison, late of Red Lion-square, London, inventor of the time-keeper for ascertaining the longitude at sea. He was born at Foulby, in the county of York, and was the son of a builder of that place, who brought him up to the same profession. Before he attained the age of 21, he, without any instruction, employed himself in cleaning and repairing clocks and watches, and made a few of the former, chiefly of wood. At the age of 25 he employed his whole time in chronometrical improvements. He was the inventor of the gridiron pendulum, and the method of preventing the effects of heat and cold upon time-keepers by two bars fixed together; he introduced the secondary spring, to keep them going while winding up, and was the inventor of most (or all) the improvements in clocks and watches during his time. In the year 1735 his first time-keeper was sent to Lisbon, and in 1764 his then much improved fourth time-keeper having been sent to Barbadoes, the Commissioners of Longitude certified that he had determined the longitude within one-third of half a degree of a great circle, having not erred more than forty seconds in time. After sixty years’ close application to the above pursuits, he departed this life on the 24th day of March, 1776, aged 83.

      In an epitaph in High Wycombe churchyard, life is compared to the working of a clock. It runs thus: —

      Of no distemper,

      Of no blast he died,

      But fell,

      Like Autumn’s fruit,

      That mellows long,

      Even wondered at

      Because he dropt not sooner.

      Providence seemed to wind him up

      For fourscore years,

      Yet ran he nine winters more;

      Till, like a clock,

      Worn out with repeating time,

      The wheels of weary life

      At last stood still.

      In memory of John Abdidge, Alderman.

      Died 1785.

      We have some curious specimens of engineers’ epitaphs. A good example is copied from the churchyard of Bridgeford-on-the-Hill, Notts: —

Sacred to the Memory of John Walker, the only son ofBenjamin and Ann Walker, Engineer and Pallisade Maker,died September 22nd, 1832, aged 36 years

      Farewell, my wife and father dear;

      My glass is run, my work is done,

      And now my head lies quiet here.

      That many an engine I’ve set up,

      And got great praise from men,

      I made them work on British ground,

      And on the roaring seas;

      My engine’s stopp’d, my valves are bad,

      And lie so deep within;

      No engineer could there be found

      To put me new ones in.

      But Jesus Christ converted me

      And took me up above,

      I hope once more to meet once more,

      And sing redeeming love.

      Our next is on a railway engineer, who died in 1840, and was buried in Bromsgrove churchyard: —

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