'Hallo!' the old man answered with a wintry smile. 'A shilling, if you please.' And he held out his hand. 'Oh!' said Mr. Fishwick, much chap-fallen, 'I was only just--looking out of curiosity.' 'It is a shilling to look,' the newcomer retorted with a chuckle. 'Only one year, I think? Just so, anno domini seventeen hundred and sixty-seven. A shilling, if you please.' Mr. Fishwick hesitated, but in the end professional pride swayed him, he drew out the coin, and grudgingly handed it over. 'Well,' he said, 'it is a shilling for nothing. But, I suppose, as you have caught me, I must pay.' 'I've caught a many that way,' the old fellow answered as he pouched the shilling. 'But there, I do a lot of work upon them. There is not a better register kept anywhere than that, nor a parish clerk that knows more about his register than I do, though I say it that should not. It is clear and clean from old Henry Eighth, with never a break except at the time of the siege, and, by the way, there is an entry about that that you could see for another shilling. No? Well, if you would like to see a year for nothing--No? Now, I know a lad, an attorney's clerk here, name of Chatterton, would give his ears for the offer. Perhaps your name is Smith?' the old fellow continued, looking curiously at Mr. Fishwick. 'If it is, you may like to know that the name of Smith is in the register of burials just three hundred-and eighty-three times--was last Friday! Oh, it is not Smith? Well, if it is Brown, it is there two hundred and seventy times--and one over!' 'That is an odd thought of yours,' said the lawyer, staring at the conceit. 'So many have said,' the old man chuckled. 'But it is not Brown? Jones, perhaps? That comes two hundred and--Oh, it is not Jones?' 'It is a name you won't be likely to have once, let alone four hundred times!' the lawyer answered, with a little pride--heaven knows why. 'What may it be, then?' the clerk asked, fairly put on his mettle. And he drew out a pair of glasses, and settling them on his forehead looked fixedly at his companion. 'Fishwick.' 'Fishwick! Fishwick? Well, it is not a common name, and I cannot speak to it at this moment. But if it is here, I'll wager I'll find it for you. D'you see, I have them here in alphabet order,' he continued, bustling with an important air to a cupboard in the wall, whence he produced a thick folio bound in roughened calf. 'Ay, here's Fishwick, in the burial book, do you see, volume two, page seventeen, anno domini 1750, seventeen years gone, that is. Will you see it? 'Twill be only a shilling. There's many pays out of curiosity to see their names.' Mr. Fishwick shook his head.