eir　profession　was　forgotten　　in　their　electorship。　　Politics　had　engulfed　the　narrower　　economy　of　grave…digging。　　'Na；　na；'　said　the　one；　'ye're　a'　　wrang。'　　'The　English　and　Irish　Churches；'　answered　the　　other；　in　a　tone　as　if　he　had　made　the　remark　before；　and　it　　had　been　called　in　question　…　'The　English　and　Irish　Churches　　have　IMPOVERISHED　the　country。'
  'Such　are　the　results　of　education；'　thought　I　as　I　passed　　beside　them　and　came　fairly　among　the　tombs。　　Here；　at　least；　　there　were　no　commonplace　politics；　no　diluted　this…morning's　　leader；　to　distract　or　offend　me。　　The　old　shabby　church　　showed；　as　usual；　its　quaint　extent　of　roofage　and　the　　relievo　skeleton　on　one　gable；　still　blackened　with　the　fire　　of　thirty　years　ago。　　A　chill　dank　mist　lay　over　all。　　The　　Old　Greyfriars'　churchyard　was　in　perfection　that　morning；　　and　one　could　go　round　and　reckon　up　the　associations　with　no　　fear　of　vulgar　interruption。　　On　this　stone　the　Covenant　was　　signed。　　In　that　vault；　as　the　story　goes；　John　Knox　took　　hiding　in　some　Reformation　broil。　　From　that　window　Burke　the　　murderer　looked　out　many　a　time　across　the　tombs；　and　perhaps　　o'　nights　let　himself　down　over　the　sill　to　rob　some　new…made　　grave。　　Certainly　he　would　have　a　selection　here。　　The　very　　walks　have　been　carried　over　forgotten　resting…places；　and　　the　whole　ground　is　uneven；　because　（as　I　was　once　quaintly　　told）　'when　the　wood　rots　it　stands　to　reason　the　soil　should　　fall　in；'　which；　from　the　law　of　gravitation；　is　certainly　　beyond　denial。　　But　it　is　round　the　boundary　that　there　are　　the　finest　tombs。　　The　whole　irregular　space　is；　as　it　were；　　fringed　with　quaint　old　monuments；　rich　in　death's…heads　and　　scythes　and　hour…glasses；　and　doubly　rich　in　pious　epitaphs　　and　Latin　mottoes　…　rich　in　them　to　such　an　extent　that　their　　proper　space　has　run　over；　and　they　have　crawled　end…long　up　　the　shafts　of　columns　and　ensconced　themselves　in　all　sorts　　of　odd　corners　among　the　sculpture。　　These　tombs　raise　their　　backs　against　the　rabble　of　squalid　dwelling…houses；　and　　every　here　and　there　a　clothes…pole　projects　between　two　　monuments　its　fluttering　trophy　of　white　and　yellow　and　red。　　　With　a　grim　irony　they　recall　the　banners　in　the　Invalides；　　banners　as　appropriate　perhaps　over　the　sepulchres　of　tailors　　and　weavers　as　these　others　above　the　dust　of　armies。　　Why　　they　put　things　out　to　dry　on　that　particular　morning　it　was　　hard　to　imagine。　　The　grass　was　grey　with　drops　of　rain；　the　　headstones　black　with　moisture。　　Yet；　in　despite　of　weather　　and　common　sense；　there　they　hung　between　the　tombs；　and　　beyond　them　I　could　see　through　open　windows　into　miserable　　rooms　where　whole　families　were　born　and　fed；　and　slept　and　　died。　　At　one　a　girl　sat　singing　merrily　with　her　back　to　the　　graveyard；　and　from　another　came　the　shrill　tones　of　a　　scolding　woman。　　Every　here　and　there　was　a　town　garden　full　　of　sickly　flowers；　or　a　pile　of　crockery　inside　upon　the　　window…seat。　　But　you　do　not　grasp　the　full　connection　　between　these　houses　of　the　dead　and　the　living；　the　　unnatural　marriage　of　stately　sepulchres　and　squalid　houses；　　till；　lower　down；　where　the　road　has　sunk　far　below　the　　surface　of　the　cemetery；　and　the　very　roofs　are　scarcely　on　a　　level　with　its　wall；　you　observe　that　a　proprietor　has　taken　　advantage　of　a　tall　monument　and　trained　a　chimney…stack　　against　its　back。　　It　startles　you　to　see　the　red；　modern　　pots　peering　over　the　shoulder　of　the　tomb。
  A　man　was　at　work　on　a　grave；　his　spade　clinking　away　the　　drift　of　bones　that　permeates　the　thin　brown　soil；　but　my　　first　disappointment　had　taught　me　to　expect　little　from　　Greyfriars'　sextons；　and　I　passed　him　by　in　silence。　　A　　slater　on　the　slope　of　a　neighbouring　roof　eyed　me　curiously。　　　A　lean　black　cat；　looking　as　if　it　had　battened　on　strange　　meats；　slipped　past　me。　　A　little　boy　at　a　window　put　his　　finger　to　his　nose　in　so　offensive　a　manner　that　I　was　put　　upon　my　dignity；　and　turned　grandly　off　to　read　old　epitaphs　　and　peer　through　the　gratings　into　the　shadow　of　vaults。
  Just　then　I　saw　two　women　coming　down　a　path；　one　of　them　　old；　and　the　other　younger；　with　a　child　in　her　arms。　　Both　　had　faces　eaten　with　famine　and　hardened　with　sin；　and　both　　had　reached　that　stage　of　degradation；　much　lower　in　a　woman　　than　a　man；　when　all　care　for　dress　is　lost。　　As　they　came　　down　they　neared　a　grave；　where　some　pious　friend　or　relative　　had　laid　a　wreath　of　immortelles；　and　put　a　bell　glass　over　　it；　as　is　the　custom。　　The　effect　of　that　ring　of　dull　yellow　　among　so　many　blackened　and　dusty　sculptures　was　more　　pleasant　than　it　is　in　modern　cemeteries；　where　every　second　　mound　can　boast　a　similar　coronal；　and　here；　where　it　was　the　　exception　and　not　the　rule；　I　could　even　fancy　the　drops　of　　moisture　that　dimmed　the　covering　were　the　tears　of　those　who　　laid　it　where　it　was。　　As　the　two　women　came　up　to　it；　one　of　　them　kneeled　down　on　the　wet　grass　and　looked　long　and　　silently　through　the　clouded　shade；　while　the　second　stood　　above　her；　gently　oscillating　to　and　fro　to　lull　the　muling　　baby。　　I　was　struck　a　great　way　off　with　something　religious　　in　the　attitude　of　these　two　unkempt　and　haggard　women；　and　I　　drew　near　faster；　but　still　cautiously；　to　hear　what　they　　were　saying。　　Surely　on　them　the　spirit　of　death　and　decay　　had　descended；　I　had　no　education　to　dread　here：　should　I　not　　have　a　chance　of　seeing　nature？　　Alas！　a　pawnbroker　could　not　　have　been　more　practical　and　commonplace；　for　this　was　what　　the　kneeling　woman　said　to　the　woman　upright　…　this　and　　nothing　more：　'Eh；　what　extravagance！'
  O　nineteenth　century；　wonderful　art　thou　indeed　…　wonderful；　　but　wearisome　in　thy　stale　and　deadly　uniformity。　　Thy　men　　are　more　like　numerals　than　men。　　They　must　bear　their　　idiosyncrasies　or　their　professions　written　on　a　placard　　about　their　neck；　like　the　scenery　in　Shakespeare's　theatre。　　　Thy　precepts　of　economy　have　pierced　into　the　lowest　ranks　of　　life；　and　there　is　now　a　decorum　in　vice；　a　respectability　　among　the　disreputable；　a　pure　spirit　of　Philistinism　among　　the　waifs　and　strays　of　thy　Bohemia。　　For　lo！　thy　very　　gravediggers　talk　politics；　and　thy　castaways　kneel　upon　new　　graves；　to　discuss　the　cost　of　the　monument　and　grumble　at　　the　improvidence　of　love。
  Such　was　the　elegant　apostrophe　that　I　made　as　I　went　out　of　　the　gates　again；　happily　satisfied　in　myself；　and　feeling　　that　I　alone　of　all　whom　I　had　seen　was　able　to　profit　by　the　　silent　poem　of　these　green　mounds　and　blackened　headstones。
  （1）　RELIGIO　MEDICI；　Part　ii。　（2）　DUCHESS　OF　MALFI。
  SKETCHES　CHAPTER　IV　…　NURSES
  I　KNEW　one　once；　and　the　room　where；　lonely　and　old；　she　　waited　for　death。　　It　was　pleasant　enough；　high　up　above　the　　lane；　and　looking　forth　upon　a　hill…side；　covered　all　day　　with　sheets　and　yellow　blankets；　and　with　long　lines　of　　underclothing　fluttering　between　the　battered　posts。　　There　　were　any　number　of　cheap　prints；　and　a　drawing　by　one　of　'her　　children；'　and　there　were　flowers　in　the　window；　and　a　sickly　　canary　withered　into　consumption　in　an　ornamental　cage。　　The　　bed；　with　its　checked　coverlid；　was　in　a　closet。　　A　great　　Bible　lay　on　the　table；　and　her　drawers　were　full　of　　'scones；'　which　it　was　her　pleasure　to　give　to　young　visitors　　such　as　I　was　then。
  You　may　not　think　this　a　melancholy　picture；　but　the　canary；　　and　the　cat；　and　the　white　mouse　that　she　had　for　a　while；　　and　that　died；　were　all　indications　of　the　want　that　ate　into　　her　heart。　　I　think　I　know　a　little　of　what　that　old　woman　　felt；　and　I　am　as　sure　as　if　I　had　seen　her；　that　she　sat　　many　an　hour　in　silent　tears；　with　the　big　Bible　open　before　　her　clouded　eyes。
  If　you　could　look　back　upon　her　life；　and　feel　the　great　　chain　that　had　linked　her　to　one　child　after　another；　　sometimes　to　be　wrenched　suddenly　through；　and　sometimes；　　which　is　infinitely　worse；　to　be　torn　gradually　off　through　　years　of　growing　neglect；　or　perhaps　growing　dislike！　　She　　had；　like　the　mother；　overcome　that　natural　repugnance　…　　repugnance　which　no　man　can　conquer　…　towards　the　infirm　and　　helpless　mass　of　putty　of　the　earlier　stage。　　She　had　spent　　her　best　and　happiest　years　in　tending；　watching；　and　　learning　to　love　like　a　mother　this　child；　with　which　she　has　　no　connection　and　to　which　she　has　no　tie。　　Perhaps　she　　refused　some　sweetheart　（such　things　have　been）；　or　put　him　　off　and　off；　until　he　lost　heart　and　turned　to　some　one　else；　　all　for　fear　of　leaving　this　creature　that　had　wound　itself　　about　her　heart。　　And　the　end　of　it　all　…　her　month's　　warning；　and　a　present　perhaps；　and　the　rest　of　the　life　to　　vain　regret。　　Or；　worse　still；　to　see　the　child　gradually　　forgetting　and　forsaking　her；　fostered　in　disrespect　and　　neglect　on　the　plea　of　growing　manliness；　and　at　last　　beginning　to　treat　her　as　a　servant　whom　he　had　treated　a　few　　years　before　as　a　mother。　　She　sees　the　Bible　or　the　Psalm…　book；　which　with　gladness　and　love　unutterable　in　her　heart　　she　had　bought　for　him　years　ago　out　of　her　slender　savings；　　neglected　for　some　newer　gift　of　his　father；　lying　in　dust　in　　the　lumber…room　or　given　away　to　a　poor　child；　and　the　act　　applauded　for　its　unfeeling　charity。　　Little　wonder　if