But now your Glass is run-your work is done, For this useful man is gone for evermore." The following seems to be a heartfelt and worthy tribute to a good man-Mr. Mark Sanderson, of Chepstow, aged 66: "Loving, belov'd, in all relations true, One more I will give, as it is at least original, from a tombstone at Lowestoft, Suffolk "In memory of A dutiful Son, a loving Brother, and an affectionate Husband. This Stone is not erected by Susan his wife. She erected a Stone to John Salter her second Husband, forgetting the affection of Charles Ward her first Husband." In some other old MSS. and note-books are a number of quotations in prose and verse, mostly from well-known writers or not of any interest, but among them are a few that seem worth preserving. The following epitaph by a Dominican friar on Pope Clement the Fourth is remarkable for the ingenuity of the verse, which is equally good when the words and sense are inverted : "Laus tua, non tua fraus, virtus non copia rerum ་ Pauperibus tua das, nunquam stat janua clausa, Fundere res quæris, nec tua multiplicas, Conditio tua sit stabilis! non tempore parvo Vivere te faciat, hic Deus omnipotens." (The same reversed.) Omnipotens Deus hic faciat te vivere parvo Tempore non stabilis sit tua conditio! Multiplicas tua nec quæris res fundere clausa Janua stat, nunquam das tua pauperibus, My friend, Mr. Comerford Casey, has kindly given me the following elegant translation of the above: "Not by intrigue but merit, not by wealth The wants of others than to gather gain. May your prosperity be lasting, Pope! May God all-powerful grant you length of days!" (The same read backwards.) "May God omnipotent remove you soon Naught to the poor you give your power is due To wealth not worth: by intrigue you have risen." In faded ink and very old handwriting, probably my grandfather's, is the following charade, the answer to which is not given, but it is worth preserving for its style :— "My first's the proud but hapless Child of danger, Parent of highest honours and of woe; Too long my second to the brave a stranger My whole by dext'rous artifice contrives To gain the prize by which he stands accurst, He gains my second whilst he gives my first." I myself believe the answer to be "cut-purse "-a Shakespearean word in common use in the eighteenth century, and applying to all the terms of the charade with great accuracy. But few of my friends think this solution good enough. The following is in my father's writing, and as it is comparatively easy, I leave the answer to my young reader's ingenuity: "A RIDDLE. "O Doctor, Doctor, tell me can you cure When stript of that, so desperate is my case, One more enigma in my father's writing is interesting because founded on a custom common in my youth, but which has now wholly passed away. "Kitty, a fair but frozen maid, Kindled a flame I still deplore, The hood-wink'd Boy was called in aid So fatal to my suit before. Tell me, ye fair, this urchin's name Who still mankind annoys ; Cupid and he are not the same, Though each can raise or quench a flame, And both are hood-wink'd boys." My sister told me (and from what followed it was pretty certainly the case) that while he remained a bachelor my father lived up to his income or very nearly so; and from what we know of his after life this did not imply any extravagance or luxurious habits, but simply that he enjoyed himself in London and the country, living at the best inns or boarding-houses, and taking part in the amusements of the period, as a fairly well-to-do, middle-class gentleman. After his marriage in 1807 he lived in Marylebone, and his ordinary household expenses, of course, increased; and as by 1810 he had two children and the prospect of a large family, he appears to have felt the necessity of increasing his income. Having neglected the law so long, and probably having a distaste for it, he apparently thought it quite hopeless to begin to practise as a solicitor, and being entirely devoid of business habits, allowed himself to be persuaded into undertaking one of the most risky of literary speculations, the starting a new illustrated magazine, devoted apparently to art, antiquities, and general literature. A few numbers were issued, and I remember, as a boy, seeing an elaborate engraving of the Portland Vase, which was one of the illustrations; and in those days before photography, when all had to be done by skilled artists and engravers, such illustrations were ruinously expensive for a periodical brought out by a totally unknown man. Another of these illustrations is now before me, and well shows the costly nature of the work. It is on large paper, 11 by 8 inches to the outer line of the engraving, the margins having been cut off. It is headed "Gallery of Antiquities, British Museum, Pl. I.," and contains forty distinct copper-plate engravings of parts of friezes, vases, busts, and full-length figures, of Greek or Roman art, all drawn to scale, and exquisitely engraved in the best style of the period. The plate is stated at the foot to be "Published for the Proprietor, May 1st, 1811," four years after my father's marriage. It shows that the work must have been of large quarto size, in no way of a popular character, and too costly to have any chance of commercial success. After a very few numbers were issued the whole thing came to grief, partly, it was said, by the defalcations of a manager or bookkeeper, who appropriated the money advanced by my father to pay for work and materials, and partly, no doubt, from the affair being in the hands of persons without the necessary business experience and literary capacity to make it a success. A few old letters are in my possession, from a Mr. E. A. Rendall to my father, written in 1812 and 1813, relating to the affair. They are dated from Bloomsbury Square, and are exceedingly long and verbose, so that it is hardly possible to extract anything definite from them. They refer chiefly to the mode of winding up the business, and urging that the engraved plates, etc., may be useful in a new undertaking. He proposes, in fact, to commence another magazine with a different name, which he says will cost only sixty guineas a number, and can be published at half a crown. He refers to the General Chronicle as if that were the title of the recently defunct magazine, and he admits that my father may rightly consider himself an ill-used man, though wholly denying that he, Mr. Rendall, had any part in bringing about his misfortunes. The result was that my father had to bear almost the whole loss, and this considerably reduced his already too scanty income. Whether he made any other or what efforts to earn money I do not know, but he continued to live in Marylebone till 1816, a daughter Emma having been born there in that year; but soon after he appears to have removed to St. George's, Southwark, in which parish my brother John was born in 1818. Shortly afterwards his affairs must have been getting worse, and he determined to move with his family of six children to some place where living was as cheap as possible; and, probably from having introductions to some residents there, fixed upon Usk, in Monmouthshire, where a sufficiently roomy cottage with a large garden was obtained, and where I was born on January 8, 1823. In such a remote district rents were no doubt very low and provisions of all kinds very cheap-probably not much more than half London prices. Here, so far as I remember, only one servant was kept, and my father did most of the garden work himself, and provided the family with all the vegetables and most of the fruit which was consumed. Poultry, meat, fish, and all kinds of dairy produce were especially cheap; my father taught the children himself; the country around was picturesque and the situation healthy; and, notwithstanding his reverse of fortune, I am inclined to think that this was, perhaps, the happiest portion of my father's life. In the year 1828 my mother's mother-in-law, Mrs. Rebecca Greenell, died at Hertford, and I presume it was in consequence of this event that the family left Usk in that year, and lived at Hertford for the next nine or ten years, removing to Hoddesdon in 1837 or 1838, where my father died in 1843. These last fifteen years of his life were a period of great trouble and anxiety, his affairs becoming more and |