To this abode there is an approach, ankle-deep in stone chips, resembling a petrified grove of tombstones, urns, draperies, and broken columns, in all stages of sculpture.

Herein two journeymen incessantly chip, while other two journeymen, who face each other, incessantly saw stone; dipping as regularly in and out of their sheltering sentry-boxes, as if they were mechanical figures emblematical of Time and Death.
To Durdles, when he had consumed his glass of port, Mr.Sapsea intrusts that precious effort of his Muse.

Durdles unfeelingly takes out his two-foot rule, and measures the lines calmly, alloying them with stone-grit.
'This is for the monument, is it, Mr.Sapsea ?' 'The Inscription.

Yes.' Mr.Sapsea waits for its effect on a common mind.
'It'll come in to a eighth of a inch,' says Durdles.

'Your servant, Mr.
Jasper.