Willis' great hobby was yachting. He owned a 54-ton yacht named the _Opal_, and attributed the wonderful health he enjoyed to his numerous sea voyages. "I have circumnavigated the whole of England and Scotland," he said, "and I am my own captain. Those two men over there" (pointing to two of his employees working in the factory) "are my steward and shipwright. The steward is a fisherman--a fisherman being very useful as a weather prophet. * * * I do all the repairs to the yacht myself and have re-coppered her bottom two or three times. I also put entirely new spars into her, and there stands her old mast. Some years ago I injured the third and fourth fingers of both my hands with the ropes passing through them. These four fingers became bent under, and for a long time I had to play my services with only the thumb and two fingers of each hand. But Dr. Macready, a very clever surgeon, begged me to allow him to operate on my disabled fingers, with the result that I can use them as of old, or nearly so." Henry Willis died in London on February 11, 1900, in his 80th year, deeply mourned by all who knew him, and was interred in Highgate cemetery. In the course of this work we have referred to the many improvements he effected in organ construction and reed voicing. As Sir George Grove said, his organs are celebrated for "their excellent engineering qualities." Clever, ingenious, dauntless and resourceful--qualities blended together with a plentiful supply of sound judgment and good common sense--were some of the striking characteristics of this remarkable man. He gave his personal attention to every department of his factory; nothing was too insignificant to claim his notice; his thoroughness was extraordinary--every pipe went through his hands. An organist himself, he was always thinking of the player in laying out his instruments. He had a remarkably inventive genius, which he turned to good account in the mechanical portions of his organs. He took infinite pains with everything and his enthusiasm knew no bounds. But, above all, he possessed in a striking degree that attribute which a similar successful worker once aptly described as "_obstinate_ perseverance." He had a strong aversion to newspaper men and sent them away without ceremony. While free from conceit, he was not always amenable to dictation, especially when he had disputes with architects--in which the architects were generally worsted. He regarded his organ in St. Paul's Cathedral (rebuilt in 1899), as his _magnum opus_. "There is nothing like it in the world," he remarked, with pardonable pride, one Saturday when Sir George Martin was playing that kingly king of instruments. To paraphrase the inscription on Purcell's monument in Westminster Abbey:-- "He has gone where only his own Harmony can be excelled," leaving behind him many noble specimens of his remarkable achievements. ROBERT HOPE-JONES.