Putting aside all partiality for one's own discovery, I confess that I do not know the fellow of this epitaph. It realises one's ideal of an epitaph, inasmuch as it combines exceeding brevity and beauty of expression with exceeding fulness of thought and feeling. Love, sorrow, and faith, bereaved affection and trustful piety, find most ample and exquisite utterance in these two lines. It has scarcely won the fame to which it is entitled: I have never met with it in any collection of epitaphs. The authorship would have done no dishonour to Milton himself, to whose place of sepulture it lends, if possible, an additional consecration. Curiously enough, not merely its singular excellence, but also its date, and one or two other circumstances, give some little encouragement to the idea of Miltonic ownership. The monument bears the date of 1650, when Milton was in the fulness of his powers and reputation. He was especially connected with Cripplegate Church; more than one of his many London abodes were in its neighbourhood. There, in the earlier part of his London life, during his residence in Aldersgate Street, he may have often worshipped; there his father lay; there he meant his own sepulchre to be. He who honoured "the religious memory of Mrs. Catharine Thomson, my Christian Friend," with his most glorious sonnet, would not have disdained to bestow a couplet upon the grief of another obscure friend. There are, then, certain presumptions in favour of Cripplegate Church containing an epitaph by Milton. But it does not appear in any collection of the works of one who was so careful of his smallest and most juvenile productions. This fact, I must confess, is quite strong enough to demolish a likely and pleasing fancy. The epitaph, however, though it may not be Miltonic, has every possible merit, and may find favour with such of your readers as delight in the literature of tombstones. THOMAS H. GILL. LIABILITY TO ERROR. As I always strive to be accurate when writing for the press, an accidental error should not give me much compunction; nevertheless, a touch of the feeling is sure to obtrude itself on such occasions. Even the apprehension of having added to the mass of current errors gives me a fit of uneasiness, and having just recovered from an attack of that description it may not be amiss to report the case for the benefit of future patients. When I wrote a memorandum on James Wilson, in reply to the query of professor DE MORGAN, I stated that the united libraries of Pemberton and Wilson were sold in 1772. _It was guess-work._