In connexion with tombstones, I may refer to the frequently rapid decay of the materials of which they are made, in such a climate as that of Scotland. Nearly five-and-twenty years ago I investigated this subject among the old graveyards of Edinburgh and other parts of the country, and found that while some varieties of hard siliceous sandstone retain their inscriptions quite sharp at the end of two centuries, as in the case of Alexander Henderson’s tombstone in Greyfriars Churchyard, no marble monument, freely exposed to the elements in a town, will survive in a legible condition for a single century. As an example of this disintegration I cited the handsome monument erected, in that same churchyard, to the memory of the illustrious Joseph Black, who died in 1799. It consisted of a large slab of white marble, let into a massive framework of sandstone. Less than eighty years had sufficed to render the inscription partly illegible, and the stone, bulging out in the centre and rent by numerous cracks, was evidently doomed to early destruction. Three years ago I returned to see the condition of the tomb, and then found that the marble had disappeared entirely, its place being now taken by a sandstone slab, on which the authorities had with pious care copied the original inscription. Here the marble, though partially protected by the overhanging masonry of the monument and by a high wall that screened it in some measure from the western rains, had fallen into irreparable ruin in less than a hundred years. A curious attitude of mind towards one who has died, but is still unburied, is shown by the use of the word ‘corp,’ which is popularly supposed to be the singular of ‘corpse.’ This usage may be illustrated by an incident told me by the late Henry Drummond as having occurred in his own experience. While attending the funeral of a man with whom he had had no acquaintance, he enquired of one of the company what employment the deceased had followed. The person questioned did not know, but at once asked his next neighbour, ‘I’m sayin’, Tam, what was the corp to trade?’ An old couple were exceedingly annoyed that they had not been invited to the funeral of one of their friends. At last the good wife consoled her husband thus: ‘Aweel, never you mind, Tammas, maybe we’ll be haein’ a corp o’ our ain before lang, and we’ll no ask them.’ A gentleman came to a railway station where he found a mourning party. Wishing to be sympathetic, he enquired of one of the company whether it was a funeral, and received the reply: ‘We canna exactly ca’ it a funeral, for the corp has missed the railway connection.’ [Sidenote: FUNERALS]