ONE misty evening, a young man was taking a shortcut through a graveyard when suddenly he heard a tapping sound coming from somewhere in the middle of the graveyard.
His heart leaped into his mouth. He was wondering whether he should run or quietly back away and go by the main road, when the mist lifted and he saw a man sitting near a recent grave and chiseling on the tombstone.
The youth heaved a sigh of relief.
"You gave me a start," he said to the man, going up to him. "It never occurred to me that an engraver could be at work here, at this hour."
"I couldn’t bear to wait till morning," said the man, continuing to chisel. "They’ve spelt my name wrong."