e suggested, and the weekly sheet whereon they are inscribed;
who has seen comrades fall out of the ranks in the march of life, and
perish by the wayside. And such comrades! Gone the brilliant, meteoric
A'Beckett; fiery, impulsive, scathing Jerrold; playfully cynical
Thackeray; and now--_John Leech_! There stood Shirley Brooks, who since
Jerrold's death has been _Punch's_ literary mainstay; Tom Taylor,
working now in other channels, but still attached to the staff; Horace
Mayhew and Percival Leigh, old colleagues of the dead man; F. C. Burnand
and H. Silver, the youngest of the corps; and John Tenniel, who had
taken Mr. Doyle's place on his secession, and worked in thorough amity
with Leech. Over the coffin bowed the handsome head of Millais in
overwhelming grief. All round one caught glimpses of well-known people.
There, in the front rank of the crowd, was the frank, earnest face of
Charles Dickens; by him Alexander Munro, the sculptor; there a group of
artists--Messrs. Creswick, O'Neil, and Elmore;[170] Messrs. Mowbray,
Morris, Dallas, and W. H. Russell, of the _Times_. At the back of the
grave, by the canopy, Mr. W. P. Frith, R.A.; near him a group of
journalists--Messrs. Friswell, Halliday, Gruneison; Mr. Swain, the
engraver, who had had for years the engraving of Mr. Leech's drawings;
Richard Doyle; Mr. Orridge, the barrister; the Rev. C. Currey, preacher
of the Charter House; Lieutenant-Colonel Wilkinson, who had had John
Leech for his school-fellow and fag at Charter House; while amateur art
was worthily represented by Messrs. Arthur Lewis, M. F. Halliday, and
Jopling. And there, in the bright autumn sunshine, they laid him to his
rest. Sir T. N. Talfourd relates that at the burial of Charles Lamb,
'the true-hearted son of Admiral Burney refused to be comforted.' It is
our task to record that round the grave of John Leech there was not a
dry eye, and that some of his old companions were very painfully
affected. The most beautiful part of the service was read by Mr.
Hole,[171] in an earnest manner, broken occasionally by convulsions of
grief which he had some difficulty in repressing, while here and there
among the crowd loud sobs told of hearty though humble mourners."

On the 12th of November, 1864, there appeared in the pages of the
periodical he had so well served, whose pages he has permanently
enriched with some of the choicest specimens of graphic satire, and with
whose fortunes he had been associated from t