upled with the wasting
action of rain and frost, which causes the phenomenon. Instead,
however, of the sexton's supposititious century, the period required
for total disappearance may more accurately be regarded as from 200
to 250 years. It has been found by careful observation in a few random
cases that the stones subside at the rate of about one foot in forty
or fifty years, and, as their ordinary height is from 5 feet to 5 feet
6 inches, we can readily tell, providing the rate rules evenly,
the date when any particular stone may be expected to vanish. In
confirmation of this theory is the fact that scarcely any headstones
are discoverable of a date earlier than 1650, and whenever they have
been left to their fate the veterans of 150 years have scarcely more
than their heads above ground. Wherever we find otherwise, it may be
assumed that conscientious church officers or pious parishioners have
bethought them of the burial-ground, lifted up the old stones and set
them once more on their feet. Of recent years there has grown up and
been fostered a better feeling for the ancient churchyards, and the
ivy-clad churches of Hornsey and Hendon may be cited as examples
familiar to Londoners in which the taste engendered by a beautiful
edifice has influenced for good its surroundings. In both churchyards
are many eighteenth-century stones in excellent preservation. Neither
place, however, has yet been "restored" or "reformed" in the modern
sense, and there is no reason why it should be. In many places, as the
town grows and spreads, it is well to convert the ancient graveyard
into a public garden, so that it be decently and reverently done. But
this ought never to be undertaken needlessly or heedlessly. There are
scruples of individuals to be regarded, and a strong case ought always
to exist before putting into effect such a radical change. But it
usually happens that transformation is the only remedy, and nothing
short of a thorough reaction will rescue God's Acre from the ruin and
contempt into which it has fallen. Yet we should ever remember that,
whatever we may do to the surface, it is still the place where our
dead fathers rest.

"Earth to earth and dust to dust,
Here lie the evil and the just,
Here the youthful and the old,
Here the fearful and the bold,
Here the matron and the maid,
In one silent bed are laid."

The utilitarian impulse, though frequently blamed for the
"desecration" of our churchyards,