THE EPIDEMIC AMONG THE CLOCKS.
" As regular as clock-work," is a proverb that is likely to fall into disuse. There is, it would seem, an epidemic among the public clocks. St. John's is mute; St. Martin's makes no sign; St. Paul's is behind time; and how far the disease extends, or o what nature it is, we know not. Is it tic doloreux? Are their wheels on the rack What is the main spring of their disorder? We observe that it does not extend to the illuminated clocks; it rages among the unenlightened only. Can it be a sulky fit ? Have they struck for light? Their faces• look very blank and confused. St. Paul's must be ashamed of the sneering and re- proachful glances cast up at his ample disc ; and must be sensible of the clicking chuckle of the crowd of impertinent little watches that are fobbed out to its derision. It is not for nothing that the great oracle of the time—the archbishop of cathedral clocks—is found wandering ; he that used to go hand in hand with the sun himself: Did he but know how the sun-dials in the Temple exult, he would out of sheer mortification hide his face with his hands. Those grave, sententious monitors, the dials, that have felt themselves neglected like the sages of old in a library of modern authors, and have been observed to look melancholy and to show outward signs of age—though still faithful to their duty, and unswerving in cor- rectness—have within the past week been observed to cheer up a little. Sunny smiles have ever and anon beamed upon their weather-beaten visages. The shadow of the gnomon has ap- peared like a long forefinger resting tangentially against the tip of the gnostic nose, slily indicative of the shadowy winks which they exchange with one another from their lofty sta- tions. A cloudmay, however, be observed to steal over their broad and square-cut visages, when they hear the loud tongue of some tell-tale clock ; and their rising hopes of being taken again into public favour fade into blank despair as the knell of their popularity is tolled. The tick of an antique horologe of ample rotundity, which one of the old Benchers may chance to lug from his poke to compare with their unerring tablet of time, is their death-watch. They almost feel insulted by such an
unintentional tribute to their worth
Since we began these reflections, we have heard of a movement among the craftsmen. A deputation of watch and clock makers has had an interview with the Ministers—not of the Church, but of the State. Is there a strike among the trade, instead of the clocks ?
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