raised.

He was lowered to rest in a coffin simply inscribed "Mark Lemon--Editor
of _Punch_;" for in _Punch_ he had lived his life. "He believed," said
Mr. Hatton, "in one God, one woman, one publication," as his surviving
colleagues well knew. "If this journal," they wrote by the hand of
Shirley Brooks, "has had the good fortune to be credited with habitual
advocacy of truth and justice, if it has been praised for abstinence
from the less worthy kind of satire, if it has been trusted by those who
keep guard over the purity of womanhood and of youth, we, the best
witnesses, turn for a moment from our sorrow to bear the fullest and
most willing testimony that the high and noble spirit of Mark Lemon ever
prompted generous championship, ever made unworthy onslaught or
irreverent jest impossible to the pens of those who were honoured in
being coadjutors with him." And in the poem that follows, testimony is
borne that--

"... 'Twas his pride to teach us so to bear
Our blades, as he bore his--keep the edge keen,
But strike above the belt: and ever wear
The armour of a conscience clear and clean."

[Illustration: HENRY MAYHEW.

_From a Photograph by Bedford, Lemere and Co., Strand, W.C._]

The character of Henry Mayhew, and his share in the production of
_Punch_, have already been somewhat fully set forth. An old friend of
his informs me that "he was lovable, jolly, charming, bright, coaxing,
and unprincipled. He rarely wrote himself, but would dictate, as he
walked to and fro, to his wife, whom he would also leave to confront his
creditors. She was deeply attached to him; and when his father died, she
found that the careful solicitor had left her a bequest of two pounds a
week, payable to _herself_." And Postans, after he had lost his sight,
would now and then exclaim--"Although he treated me so badly, I should
love to hear the sound of his dear voice again!" There can be no doubt
that Henry Mayhew was a genius, a fascinating companion, and a man of
inexhaustible resource and humour--though humour was but one side of his
brilliant mind. Indolence was his besetting sin; and his will was
untutored.

"An admirable all-round talker," Henry Vizetelly wrote to me
shortly before his death, "Henry Mayhew was brimming over with
novel ideas on all manner of subjects, from artificial production
of diamonds to the reformation of ticket-of-leave men. He was
constantly planning some new publicat