ccurs twice; more justly, perhaps, as no
thought ever occurs at all, there was a physical impossibility that
the same thought should recur. It is long since I saw and read these
inscriptions, but I remember the impression was of a smug usher at
his desk in the intervals of instruction, levelling his pen. Of
death, as it consists of dust and worms, and mourners and
uncertainty, he had never thought; but the word 'death' he had often
seen separate and conjunct with other words, till he had learned to
speak of all its attributes as glibly as Unitarian Belsham will
discuss you the attributes of the word 'God' in a pulpit; and will
talk of infinity with a tongue that dangles from a skull that never
reached in thought and thorough imagination two inches, or further
than from his hand to his mouth, or from the vestry to the
sounding-board of the pulpit.

But the epitaphs were trim, and sprag, and potent, and pleased the
survivors of Thames-Ditton above the old Mumpsimus of 'Afflictions
Sore'....

The church itself, or at all events the squat and tiny tower, has not
altered much since Lamb saw it. But the epitaphs have gone. Search among
the ivies and yews of the shady little churchyard will discover a number
of flat, weatherworn slabs of stone, but the verses and the signatures
have vanished. Fire and the wastepaper man are the common lot of poets,
but this "Swan of Thames" has come to his end by rain and hobnails. The
only Swan that remains is the inn, whose sign sits comfortably above the
front door, white and bright. Few Thames-side inns have a prettier
outlook, or look prettier from the river. Sunlight on shining brown
boats and quivering willows is a frequent memory of Thames waters, but
the Swan lies also opposite a ferry, and a ferry has a hundred
fascinations. Old fashioned rowing, running water, hailings and
signallings, quiet motion, thriving business, new arrivals; it is all
the cheerfullest of riverside traffic. None of the pleasanter services
of travel can be more directly rendered and directly paid for than being
ferried across a river.

Of Surrey village greens, the Thames Ditton Ground at Giggs Hill has had
much to do with Surrey cricket. Giggs Hill cricket has not always been
of the most scientific kind, but who shall say it was less enjoyed for
that? An old Giggs Hill cricketer tells us how the pitch used to be
prepared for a match. "I remembe