We are given to understand that in the case of other offences, common to both printing and typefounding, such as swearing, fighting, drunkenness, abusive language, or giving the lie in the chapel, or the equally heinous offence of leaving a candle burning at night, the journeyman founder was liable to be “solaced” by his fellow-workmen, in the same hearty and energetic way which characterised the administration of justice among the printers. After Moxon’s time we meet with numerous accounts of foundries and their appointments. The interesting inventory of the Oxford foundry, appended to the specimen of the press in 1695, gives a good idea of the extent of that establishment. There were apparently two casters, two rubbers, and two or three dressers, and the foundry possessed twenty-eight moulds. The punches were sealed up in an earthen pot, possibly to protect them from rust or injury; or possibly, because having once served their purpose in striking the matrices, they were put aside as of little or no use. The small value put upon punches after striking is constantly apparent about this period. Very few punches came down with the foundries which were absorbed by that of John James; and of those that did, the greater portion were left to take their chance among the waste as worthless. The small value set upon the punches of Walpergen’s music, in the inventory of his plant,[186] shows that they were considered the least important of his belongings. Matrices did not wear out in the old days of hand-moulds and soft metal, as they do now under steam machines and “extra hard”; but the liability to loss or damage, and the importance of protecting and preserving the steel originals of their types, can hardly have been less with the founders of a century and a half ago than it is to-day.