"_Watching the Sepulchre_" (No. 20. p. 318.).--At the present day, in most Roman Catholic countries it is the custom to exhibit in the principal churches at this period, and at Christmas, a kind of _tableau_ of the entombment and of the birth of the Saviour. The figures are sometimes small, and at other times the size of life: generally coloured, and formed of wax, wood, stone, or other materials; and when artistically arranged, and judiciously lighted, form sometimes beautiful objects. I have no doubt the entry in the Churchwardens' Accounts of Waltham Abbey refers to a custom of the same kind, prevailing in the country before the Reformation. If the date of their entry were sought for, I have little doubt but that it would be found to have been about Easter. The _sepulchre_ itself was often, I believe, a permanent erection of stone, and some of them probably now remain in the churches of England on the north side of the chancel, where they may sometimes be taken for the tombs of individuals there interred. W.C. TREVELYAN. _Watching the Sepulchre._--In reply to "T.W.'s" Query in No. 20., I have witnessed at Florence the custom of dressing the sepulchre on the Thursday before Good Friday with the most beautiful flowers, many of which are reared especially for the purpose. The devout attend at the sepulchre, and make their prayers there throughout the day, the most profound silence being observed. The convents rival each other in the beauty of their decorations. Do you think that the Churchwardens' entries in Fuller can refer to a similar custom? The loveliness of the flowers, and their delightful perfume, which pervades the church, present a most soothing and agreeable type of death and the grave, under their Christian phase. I was always at a loss to understand why this was done on Thursday, instead of on Saturday; the latter being the day on which Our Lord rested in the sepulchre. A.M. * * * * * QUERIES ANSWERED, NO. 7. A new _blunder_ of Mr. Malone.--I love the memory of Edmond Malone, albeit he sometimes committed blunders. He committed a pitiable blunder when he broke his bow in shooting at the worthless Samuel Ireland; and he committed an {404} irreparable blunder when he whitewashed the monumental effigy of the matchless Shakspere. Of the blunder ascribed to him by a reverend querist (No. 14. p. 213) he was quite innocent. Before we censure an author or editor, we should consult his _own_ edition. He cannot be answerable for the errors of any other impression. Such, at least, is _my_ notion of critical equity.