To tell the “plain unvarnished truth,” I am a watch repairer, located in a small country village, with a decent stock of tools and a moderate trade. In all this I am no exception; so I write this in the name of all who are similarly situated. Isolated as we are, we (the country village watch repairers) have few means to improve our knowledge of the trade, but work on the same old principles learned when we were boys and apprentices, and of better and more expeditious ways of doing our work we are entirely oblivious. True, our friends of the Hebraic persuasion, who, angel like, bring us face to face with the outer horological world by selling us material and tools, occasionally present to our benumbed vision something new, such as a Swiss lathe, or lathes used in the factories; but of what use are they to us? We purchase one; well, on the bench it may be an ornament, but for use, drilling large holes is the height of our ambition. We have not the time to learn by self-experience all the boasted usefulness and capacities of the tool; so we go back to our old verge or Jacot lathe when we have to put in a pivot or a new staff. We may know all about the escapement and be able to detect the cause of any trouble with it, but we have no knowledge of the latest modes of repairing the injury when it is discovered, and this knowledge is what I hope to find in your journal. I live in a section where the general class of work is of a very low grade, even the old verge being very common. Our stock of material has to be heavy in proportion to our trade, and then once in a while we are compelled to send our work to the city, some sixty miles distant, in consequence of not being able to do it, either from a lack of the material or want of a proper tool. To all intents and purposes we remain as stationary as the oyster. Not only do we have these vexations, but the ignorance of the public at large as to the treatment of their time-keepers is a fruitful source of annoyance; we are often charged with fraudulent practices, and a certain degree of caution is observed by more than the most ignorant. Thus, a few days ago, a stalwart son of the Green Isle made his appearance in front of the counter, and, projecting in front of our optics a huge English double-cased verge watch, spoke in almost dramatic tones: “Plase, sir, av’ ye could make me ticker here go, sir?” Answering in the affirmative we reached for the silent “ticker.” He drew back with alarm. “Bedad, an’ ye’ll not stale a morsle frae this?” “Well, but let me see the watch.” “An’ will ye let me eyes be on yes all the time?” “Yes.” “An’ yes’ll not stale a jewil?” “No.” “Thin, there it is.” On looking at the movement the verge was found broken, the injury explained, and the price given. He decided on the repairs being done, but said, “Give me the watch now and when ye gets the thing fixed its meself will come and git it and pay yes.”