• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Chapter I: The city -- Guildhall...
 Chapter II: St. Paul's Cathedral...
 Chapter III: The Tower of...
 Chapter IV: Statues and monuments...
 Chapter V: Bridges over the Thames...
 Chapter VI: The general post office...
 Chapter VII: Temple bar -- the...
 Chapter VIII: The British Museum...
 Chapter IX: Walks in the 'zoo'
 Chapter X: The Crystal Palace --...
 Chapter XI: Greenwich -- Chelsea...
 Chapter XII: Bushey Park and Hampton...
 Chapter XIII: London charachters...
 Chapter XIV: London Stone...
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: Walks in and around London
CITATION PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00053296/00001
 Material Information
Title: Walks in and around London
Physical Description: viii, 168 p. : ill. ; 22 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Woolmer, Theophilus, 1815-1896 ( Publisher )
Swain, Joseph, 1820-1909 ( Engraver )
Prater, H ( Engraver )
Hodes, J. R ( Engraver )
Hayman Brothers and Lilly ( Printer )
Publisher: T. Woolmer
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: Hayman Brothers and Lilly
Publication Date: 1884
 Subjects
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Zoos -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Museums -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Statues -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Bridges -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Rivers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Description and travel -- Juvenile fiction -- London (England)   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1884
Genre: novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by Uncle Jonathan ; with numerous illustrations.
General Note: Illustrations engraved by Swain, H. Prater and J.R. Hodes.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00053296
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002225076
notis - ALG5348
oclc - 23718508

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Page i
    Half Title
        Page ii
        Page ivpage iii
    Frontispiece
        Page iv
    Title Page
        Page v
        Page vi
    Table of Contents
        Page vii
        Page viii
    Chapter I: The city -- Guildhall -- Mansion House -- Royal Exchange -- bank
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
    Chapter II: St. Paul's Cathedral -- The Thames Embankment -- Westminster Abbey
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
    Chapter III: The Tower of London
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
    Chapter IV: Statues and monuments -- Royal Albert Hall -- City Road Chapel
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
    Chapter V: Bridges over the Thames -- frost fairs on the river
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
    Chapter VI: The general post office -- the postman
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
    Chapter VII: Temple bar -- the temple -- the new law courts -- the Houses of Parliament -- the Great Clock at Westminster -- St. Thomas's Hospital
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
    Chapter VIII: The British Museum -- the National Gallery
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
    Chapter IX: Walks in the 'zoo'
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
    Chapter X: The Crystal Palace -- the Electric Exhibition
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
    Chapter XI: Greenwich -- Chelsea Hospital -- Duke of York's School -- Kew -- Richmond
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
    Chapter XII: Bushey Park and Hampton Court -- Epping Forest -- Highgate
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
    Chapter XIII: London charachters -- the policeman -- the dustman -- the shoeblack -- the fireman -- the chimney sweep -- punch, etc.
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
    Chapter XIV: London Stone -- farewell
        Page 167
        Page 168
    Back Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
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BY

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WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS.






aon o in:

T. WOOLMER, 2, CASTLE STREET, CITY ROAD, E.C.;
AND 66, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
1884.




























































HAYMAN BROTHERS AND LILL.
PRINTERS,
HATTON HOUSE, PARRING)ON ROAD.
LONDON, E.C.





























ST. PETER'S CHURCH, TOWER OF LONDON.


CONTENTS.


PAGE
'CHAPTER I.
THE CITY-GUILDHALL-MANSION HOUSE-ROYAL EXCHANGE-BANK 1

CHAPTER II.
'ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL-THE THAMES EMBANKMENT-WESTMINSTER ABBEY 12

CHAPTER III.
THE TOWER OF LONDON 24

CHAPTER IV.
STATUES AND MONUMENTS-ROYAL ALBERT HALL-CITY ROAD CHAPEL 36

CHAPTER V.
BRIDGES OVER THE THAMES-FROST FAIRS ON THE RIVER 50

CHAPTER VI.
THE GENERAL POST OFFICE-THE POSTMAN. 58









viii CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER VII.
TEMPLE BAR-THE TEMPLE-THE NEW LAW COURTS-THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT
-THE GREAT CLOCK AT WESTMINSTER-ST. THOMAS'S HOSPITAL 6

CHAPTER VIII.
THE BRITISH MUSEUM-THE NATIONAL GALLERY S3

CHAPTER IX.
WALKS IN THE 'Zoo' .

CHAPTER X.
THE CRYSTAL PALACE-THE ELECTRIC EXHIBITION 114

CHAPTER XI.
GREENWICH-CHELSEA HOSPITAL-DUKE OF YORK'S SCHOOL-KEW-RICHMOND 120

CHAPTER XII.
BUSHEY PARK AND HAMPTON COURT-EPPING FOREST-HIGHGATE 133

CHAPTER XIII.
LONDON CHARACTERS-THE POLICEMAN-THE DUSTMAN-THE SHOEBLACK-THE
FIREMAN-THE CHIMNEY SWEEP-PUNCH, ETC. 15

CHAPTER XIV.
LONDON STONE-FAREWELL .. 167






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THE LORD MAYORS COACH.

CHAPTER I.
THE CITY-GUILDHALL-MIAN'SION HOUSE-ROYAL EXCHANGE-BANK.

AM a citizen of no mean city.' So said St. Paul, when the
7 i,, ] rabble of Jerusalem were following him with the cry, 'Away
I,- with him,' and he thought it best to put the chief captain right
as to his standing and position in life. And the young people
who live in this great London of ours may well adopt the
apostle's phrase and say, We are citizens of no mean city.'
Certainly the London of to-day is not a city to be ashamed of. It is,
I believe, by far the largest and most populous city in the world. Its trade
and commerce put into the shade all the other busy hives of men. Many are
2








2 GUILDHALL.

its sights, and many the buildings which claim a pilgrimage on account of
their antiquity or their historical associations; and as the years pass on,
London, instead of falling into decay and mouldy unsightliness, casts off her
dingier and dirtier streets and alleys, and arrays herself in a fresher and
cleaner dress; so that she bids fair to take her place amongst the brightest
and handsomest of all large cities.
Let us take our walks abroad and look at a few of the ;notable features of
the great city. And first we will make our way along the busy streets to the
very centre of it. We must be careful how we cross the streets, with their
lines of omnibuses and cabs and carts and vans. Happily there is a good
strong policeman stationed here and there, at the worst crossings, who will
kindly give us his help, if we need it, to traverse these bewildering streams of
life and motion. When we reach the side we want, we must be careful to
keep our eyes well in front, and not to screw our heads round every few
moments to gaze at some attraction in a window we have just passed, or we
shall be brought back to our senses by an awkward bumping from the shoulders
or elbows of some bustling clerk or merchant who is rushing along at full
walking speed, and who expects every one to be as sharp of sight and quick
of movement as he himself is. So, voyaging carefully along Cheapside, in
the very heart of busy London, we arrive at

G UILDHALL.
As we go down King Street, the venerable Hall faces us, with its open yard
in front, and its throng of sleek and knowing pigeons, amongst which, as they
busily feed, we must carefully pick our way. Though the building itself is
of great antiquity, the front is comparatively modern, tracing its birth back
only to the earlier half of the last century, while the body to which it is the
stony face had its first birthday about 470 years ago. The modern face has a
peculiar appearance, which is not easily forgotten. It might almost be compared
to a piece of petrified gingerbread; its Gothic composition presenting an
odd mixture of church and castle styles of architecture; while at the top
the City arms are prominent-two griffins watching over the shield, which is
surmounted by the cap of maintenance,' and has below it the motto, Domine,.
dirige ios, 'Lord, direct us.'
As we enter the fine old porch, we notice its arch within arch, its
panelled walls, the pillars on the stone seat, and the gilt bosses with which the













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4 GUILDHALL.
arches are profusely studded. From this we emerge into the grand banqueting
hall. This is the place in which the new Lord Mayor, each 9th of November,
presides over the feasting of a thousand guests or more, amid a blaze of
light and a brilliant display of dress and ornament. We may imagine the
buzz of a thousand tongues, on such an occasion, in the intervals of feasting
and speechifying. But now the grand old hall has a different influence upon
the mind. Its sounds are few and subdued; its light is of the 'dim religious'
kind which we associate with the aisles of an ancient cathedral or abbey; and
the sudden transition from the bustle of Cheapside into its semi-darkness is
at first a little depressing. However, we gaze around and find plenty to
interest and delight us. The glorious mass of colour in the large windows, the
arched roof of oak, and the two giants, Gog and Magog, keeping watch and
ward, will bear looking at again and again; while the monuments to the
great Chatham, and his son, William Pitt, to Nelson, Wellington, and other
worthies, serve to stimulate us to high purpose and steady action. At the
western end we find a memorial window to Prince Albert, and a clock-which
warns us to pass on to other sights,
This old hall has witnessed many a stirring scene since its first erection.
Here, in 1546, the noble-minded Anne Askew was tried and condemned for so-
called 'heresy.' And here, a few years later, in Mary's reign of bloodshed,
Sir Nicholas Throckmorton was tried for high treason, and by his wonderful
eloquence and courageous spirit so influenced the jury that they were bold
enough to pronounce him 'not guilty,' and for this daring act were themselves
punished with imprisonment and heavy fines. At the time of parliamentary
elections, Guildhall has heard many a loud harangue, and many speeches have
been rendered inaudible by the hubbub amongst the crowd, that might have
listened, but would not.
Going up a flight of stairs, we come to the room known as the Court of
Aldermen, where those gentlemen hold their meetings and transact much
business of importance. The ceiling of this room is divided into compartments,
some of which have been ornamented with paintings from the brush of Sir
James Thornhill; while its cornice consists of the carved and painted arms of
all the mayors since 1780. Near this is the Council Chamber, in which we
shall find some good historical paintings and sculpture.
The crypt or vault under Guildhall is a fine example of old architecture,
with its clustered pillars and groined arches; and now, having had a good







GUILDHALL. 5

brush up and clearance from the dust and rubbish with which it long was
choked, it serves a useful purpose as the armoury of the London Rifle Volunteer
Brigade. At the eastern side of Guildhall we find the Library-a nice light room,
fitted up with handsome oak bookcases, which contain many thousand volumes.
Here we can sit down and improve our minds by reading, without having to
pay a penny to anybody; and this is a great boon for those who have neither
books to read, nor a quiet corner at home to read them in: but, for our part,
we much prefer reading at home. Why, books have twice the charm at home,
and yield us twice the enjoyment there, that they would at any less favoured place.
Beneath the Library is the City Museum, which contains many interesting
relics of old London, and where we may see coins, and shells, and horns, and
glass, and red Roman pottery, which have been discovered in making various
excavations.
Now we must refer our readers to the picture, in which our artist has
skilfully presented Guildhall by day and by night, inside and outside, with its two
burly guardians, and the feathered favourites that throng its yard and make
themselves at home on roof and facade.
So, farewell, ye peaceful pigeons ; farewell, Gog and Magog, best-behaved
of giants. We leave your quiet quarters, and mix once more in the bustle of
Cheapside, and resign ourselves to be hustled along eastward, till we arrive at
that large opening which our continental friends would dub with the name of
Place or Platz, Piazza or Plaza, as being a fine space for a neat review or a small
revolution, but which to the bewildered eyes of our country cousins presents a sea
of people and cabs and 'busses and carts, which it is hopeless to attempt to cross.

On our right hand is the MANSION HOUSE, the official residence of the Lord
Mayor. Facing us is the ROYAL EXCHANGE, the headquarters for our mer-
chants and shippers. On our left is that gloomy-looking building, the BANK
OF ENGLAND, resembling the gold, of which it contains such store, in being
'Hard and dull and heavy and cold.'
At least so the poet calls that precious metal: perhaps he had not set eyes on
it for some time. To most of us it has a bright, cheerful look when coined into
sovereigns, however 'dull' it may look in its native uncleansed state.

The MANSION HOUSE, as you see, has six large columns in front, and its
pediment-the triangular piece which surmounts the columns-is ornamented








6 THE MANSION HO USE.

with a group of figures. It contains a large number of rooms, some of which
are used as domestic apartments, whilst others are grand state rooms, in which
the Lord Mayor's many friends and visitors are received and hospitably enter-
tained. The chief room, called 'the Egyptian Hall,' is chiefly devoted to the
entertainment of strangers and friends, and will seat 400 guests. It is a large
and lofty hall, and has on each side a range of grand pillars with gilded capitals;
and, with its panelled roof and brilliant chandeliers, it furnishes a fitting frame
for,the statesmen and orators and civic grandees who sit down to banquets,
which include, we trust, not only the best of cheer, but
'The feast of reason and the flow of soul,'
while his lordship presides over the gathering from his throne at the head of the
table. It is also sometimes used for public meetings with charitable objects;
and one of the Lord Mayor's numerous duties during his busy year of office is
to promote the relief of all who are suffering from sudden calamities, and to open
special funds for that purpose. Now he is the almoner for the famine-stricken
people of Ireland or of the East Indies; then come sad tidings of a great colliery
explosion, and money has to be gathered to feed the poor widows and orphans
of the men who are killed. Then follow floods in Hungary, earthquakes in
South Italy, hurricanes in Jamaica; and all these calls find his lordship ready
to give time and money and influence to help the unfortunate, whether their
skin be black, brown, or white, and without asking them whether they love us
Englishmen or not.
The M.ili-.'n House is comparatively a modern institution. The building
was completed in 1753. Previously to that time the citizens, while requiring
their Mayor to keep up a princely court, and to have a sword-bearer, sergeant-
at-arms, sergeant carver, sergeants of the chamber, esquires, bailiffs, and
'young men,' had expected him to find his own lodgings ; and so his lordship
had to cram all his grandeur into his own private house, or to borrow the hall
of the Company to which he might belong. But at length this omission was
repaired, and now the Lord Mayor resides, during his year of office, at this
palace in the heart of the city he governs; is surrounded at every turn by its
handsome fittings; and has to bring into play, on special occasions, its splendid
service of plate, valued at more than 20,000. Of course, with his large
retinue, and with the many banquets which he is expected to give, his expenses
are very heavy; but towards these he is allowed 10,000, and generally
spends beyond this two or three thousand pounds out of his own pocket.




















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8 THE ROY4L EXCHANGE.

We will pass on, as well as we can, to the ROYAL EXCHANGE. There it,
is, facing us, its fine portico showing up well by reason of the ample space in
front of it. On the pediment above the eight pillars is a group of sculpture,
consisting of eleven allegorical figures. In the centre of the group we find
"Commerce leaning against the prow of a ship, with a cornucopia and a beehive
at her side-emblems of plenty and industry; while, on her right and left,
English merchants are talking and bargaining with foreign traders. Under-
neath runs the beautiful motto which the Prince Consort chose from the
Bible: The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof.'
Let us run up the broad flight of steps, and, turning our backs for a minute
on the Royal Exchange, let us gaze on the remarkable scene in front. A
wide stretch of pavement lies before us, and near the edge of this is a statue
of the Duke of Wellington, cast from the metal of guns taken from the French
in those old fighting days when the Duke was in his prime; while around
its base several poor women are sitting, engaged in the peaceful occupation of
arranging flowers into little bunches for gentlemen's buttonholes. And beyond
this is the great panorama of human heads, and 'busses, and cabs, and vehicles
of all sorts, moving-always moving, like a swarm of busy bees in a glass hive,
or like a stream of active ants, intent on their small but very particular
business. It is a living picture which, once seen, will not soon be forgotten.
The spectator becomes fascinated in tracking the hardy voyager as he travels
from shore to shore of this perilous ocean; but, while he listens to the noise
and buzz, the words of Sir Richard Steele, hearkening from an elevated position
to a similar hubbub more than a century and a half ago, may occur to his
ind : What nonsense is all the hurry of this world to those who are abore it!'
When we step into the Exchange, passing through the portico and
vestibule, we find a large open court, with a marble statue of the Queen, by
Lough, in the centre. This court is surrounded by an ambulatory, or walk,
formed by arcades; but the centre, round the statue, is the chief spot on
which the merchants throng at the time of' high 'change,' that is, between
three and four o'clock. Now is the time and here is the place to conclude
a bargain which shall bring a few thousand pounds into your pocket, or, on
the other hand, take just as much out of your pocket, supposing it to be there
already.
The first stone of the Royal Exchange was laid by Prince Albert on
January 17th, 1842; and the building was opened by the Queen in state on







THE ROYAL EXCHANGE. 9.

October 28th, 1841. Let us hope that it may not share the fate of its pre-
decessors, both of which were destroyed by fire.
The first Exchange was due to the public spirit of Sir Thomas Gresham,
who, having seen the advantages which the merchants of Antwerp enjoyed
in having a magnificent Bourse in which to conduct their business, resolved
to provide alike building for the convenience of his fellow-citizens. Previously
the merchants and traders, as old Stow tells us, had had to transact their
business in the open street, meeting usually twice every day, at noon and in
the evening. 'But these meetings were unpleasant and troublesome, by
reason of walking and talking in an open narrow street being there con-
strained either to endure all extremes of weather, viz., heat and cold, snow
and rain; or else to shelter themselves in shops.' Gresham offered to erect a
Bourse, or Exchange, if the citizens provided the site. The generous offer was
accepted; a spot in Cornhill and the neighbourhood was chosen, bought, and
cleared; the foundation stone was laid June 7th, 1566, and the building was
completed in November, 1567. It consisted of two portions, an upper and
a lower ; the upper portion being laid out in shops to the number of one hundred,
the lower in walks and rooms for the merchants, with a rim of shops outside.
For two or three years the shops remained almost empty, to the great dis-
appointment of the founder, who had expected a fine revenue from that
source. But Sir Thomas was not the man to let a noble undertaking die out
for want of pluck and perseverance. Having arranged with some shop-
keepers to occupy and light up as many shops as they could, on condition of
having them rent-free that year, he entertained the Queen-the active and
popular Elizabeth-at dinner at his house in Bishopsgate Street-yes, in
plebeian Bishopsgate Street !-and after dinner conducted her majesty through
Cornlill to his Burse,' which was gaily set out with 'all sorts of the finest
wares in the City.' Queen Bess was so delighted with what she saw, that
she christened the Burse' with a new name, and by herald and trumpet
proclaimed it The Royal Exchange, so to be called from thenceforth, and not
otherwise.'
This building was made good use of by the merchants and traders of
those days, and became a favourite place of promenade for the citizens on
Sunday and holidays. It was scarcely a hundred years old when it was
destroyed in the Great Fire of London.
It was in September, 1666, that the flames of that conflagration broke in








"io THE BANK OF ENGLAND.

upon Cornhill, and, quickly seizing the 'trains of wood' which had been pulled
down from the houses to prevent the fire spreading, and had been carelessly
left in the middle of the street, rushed along with a dreadful roar, consumed
the fine old buildings on each side, and fastened with fury on the Royal
Exchange. Down came most of the noble building which Gresham had founded
with so much care and pains; but while the statues of the kings fell forward on
their faces, his statue alone remained erect.
A second Exchange was built on the site of the old one, which it greatly
resembled, but was larger and more magnificent. It was opened in September,
1669, and lasted till January 10th, 1838, when it also was burnt down. The
fire began about half-past ten o'clock on a bitterly cold night; and at twelve the
flames were leaping round the clock-tower, which contained a peal of bells that
played set tunes at every third hour. So now from the midst of the fire came
ringing out, to the astonishment of the immense crowd, the old familiar tune,
'There's nae luck aboot the hoose ;' and as the shrill silvery tones floated out
on the midnight air, the bells, one by one, fell clashing and clanging into the
burning mass below.

But we must turn our backs upon the Exchange and look at that sombre
building on our right hand. It is the BANK oF ENGLAND, the greatest bank in
the world. The original building was first opened for business on June 5th,
1 f-'. Since that date, large additions have been made to it, some parts of it
have been rebuilt, and it now covers an irregular space of four acres. The
design of the present building, which we do not admire, is due to Sir John
Soane, who was appointed architect in 1788. The interior is far more light-
some and pleasant than one might suppose from the heavy outside. It consists
of nine open courts, a Rotunda, committee rooms, apartments for officers and
servants, and rooms appropriated to business. The principal rooms are on the
ground floor, and, having no apartments over them, get light from above by
lantern windows and domes. Below the surface are a still larger number of
rooms, and here are the vaults in which the Bank treasure is kept secure.
This national Bank was originated by a hard-headed Scotchman, Mr.
William Paterson, who saw the need which existed for such an appliance, and
did not rest till he got an Act passed for the incorporation of the Governor and
Company of the Bank of England.
Let us walk into this famous Bank, and watch the cashiers shovelling out








THE BANK OF ENGLAND. 11

the gold coins as if they were so many brass buttons. The amount of silver
and gold brought to the Bank, in coin and in bars, is something marvellous.
It is stored away in the bullion room, until sent to the Mint to be coined. A
single bar of gold weighs about sixteen pounds, and is worth about eight
hundred pounds. In the weighing-room there is a wonderful little machine for
weighing the sovereigns. It does not require any one to hold it, but seems of
its own accord, and always without a mistake, to detect the light coins. It
sends the correct ones down one tube, to be passed into the Bank; and the
light ones down another, to be slit across in the clipping machine. These are
then sent to the hot furnaces of the Mint to be recoined. Thus within one
minute thirty-three sovereigns are weighed in the balances and pronounced
good or bad. And never a light one will that sensible machine pass with the
good, nor a good one with the bad. What a lesson it teaches us! We too
shall be 'wv-iih.:.l in the balances' at that last great day. There will be no
possibility of mistake in that just judgment, and we shall be either passed or
rejected, rewarded or punished, according to our lives. Let us seek by God's
grace so to live that we shall not be 'found wanting.'
Amongst other curiosities are the remarkable bank-notes signed by illus-
trious persons ; and a bank-note for twenty-five pounds that has been out in
circulation for 111 years. When a note is cashed at the Bank, a corner is torn
off, and, after its number is entered in a book, it is put away in the bank-note
library, amongst millions of others, until at the end of ten years it is brought
out with all those that were shut up with it in the same month, and all are burned
in a large furnace kept for that purpose. In our peaceful days it is only
necessary to have a small body of foot soldiers to guard the Bank at night
time. But there have been times in its history, times of riotous discontent,
when both foot and horse soldiers have had to mass in large numbers, and
have even found it necessary to charge and fire upon the excited mob to pro-
tect it from their violence.




.
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OLD SAINT PAUL'S.

CHAPTER II.
,ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL-THE THAMES EM1BANKMIENT-WESTMIThSTER ABDEY
,W I want you to pay a visit with me to ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL.
SAs we walk through the streets, we continually catch glimpses of
the noble building. But though no good general view of it can be
'-" _____ obtained from the ground, we will go nearer, and see how old
Father Time has been employed on its surface. We gaze up at it,
noting its weather-worn appearance: the stains of dark grey, the rich touches
of black, and the lighter greys mixed irregularly together, add to its beauty
and grandeur. We notice at the top of the granite steps the noble portico of
twelve columns, with eight, in pairs, above them. Inside the pediment, or
triangular space above the columns, is a representation of St. Paul's con-
version. In the centre, at the top of the pediment, is a statue of St. Paul:
one of St. Peter stands on his right, and St. James on his left. Around the
towers are figures of the other apostles. The left tower contains a fine peal
of bells, and the right tower the clock.








SAINT PA UL'S. 13
We walk round and come to the south door, over which we notice the
motto, 'RESUnGAM.' This motto was suggested to Sir Christopher Wren
under peculiar circumstances. Wanting to mark the exact spot over which
the centre of the dome should rise, he called to a workman for a piece of stone.
A piece of an old tombstone was brought, on which was engraved this:one word
of Latin. Taking its meaning, I shall rise again,' he thought the word most
appropriate for the motto of the cathedral church which was to rise grandly
from the ruins of burnt London.
Old St. Paul's was the idol of Londoners; but, like the temple in the time
of our Saviour, it had become a meeting-place and lounge for the citizens.
Wickedness of all kinds abounded within its walls; and, during the civil war,
horses were stabled inside, and so much injury was done that it was found neces-
sary to thoroughly restore it. In 1666 the Great Fire laid the old church low,
and left it a mere mass of ruins. The task of rebuilding it was committed to
that grand architect, Dr.-afterwards Sir-Christopher Wren, to whom the
City of London owes so much. During thirty-five years the noble cathedral
which we now see was in course of erection. The first stone was laid in June,
1675 ; and though the building was sufficiently advanced for service to be held in
it in December, 1697, it was not till 1710-forty-four years after the destruction
of its predecessor-that the topstone was placed over the cupola, and the
great church completed. During these long years Wren's annual salary was
only 200. But he enjoyed an artist's best reward in seeing his noble con-
ceptions carried into lasting shape; and it was his delight, to the very close
of his life, to be taken once a year to revisit his grand work.
We will now enter the building. As the door closes behind us, it shuts
out all the rush and noise of the city; and though there are many people here,
yet the silence is very solemn. The service has just commenced; so we seat
ourselves to listen to the shrill and harmonious voices of the choir as their
singing mingles with the grand tones of the organ, filling the building with its
music, and leading our thoughts to the time when, we hope, we and all our
young readers will join in the music of the skies. After the service we take a
peep at the choir. The organ, which used to stand over the entrance, is now
divided into three parts: the swell and choir organ on the south; the solo and
great organ on the north ; and the pedal organ under one of the arches. Some
of the finest carvings in the world adorn this part of the building. At the end
of the choir are three stained windows, representing the Crucifixion, the Agony,








14 SAINT PA UL'S.

and the Ascension. At the south entrance to the choir is the first statue
placed in the cathedral. It is that of the noble and great philanthropist, John
Howard. Dr. Johnson's statue is at the north entranceto the choir. Amongst
the numerous monuments we more particularly notice those of Sir Henry
Lawrence, Turner, Lord Nelson, Sir Astley Cooper, and Sir John Moore, the
brass tablets in memory of the officers and seamen of H.M.S. Captain, and the
statue of Sir Joshua Reynolds.
We now go down to the crypt, and, of course, the first thing we want to
see is the tomb of Sir C. Wren. It is a plain slab, bearing this inscription:

HERE LIETH
SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN, KNT.
THE BUILDER OF THIS CATHEDRAL CHURCH OF ST. PAUL,
WHO DIED IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1723,
AND OF HIS AGE 91.

Near his tomb lie the remains of some of our most celebrated artists-Reynolds,
Barry, Opie, West, Landseer, and Foley. And in the enclosed portion of the
crypt we find the tombs of the Duke of Wellington and Lord Nelson. The
funeral car, on which the body of the Duke of Wellington was carried to the
cathedral, is next shown to us. It was cast from guns taken in his various
battles.
After visiting the library, the clock, and the whispering gallery-from
which we get a good view of the paintings in the dome-we grope our way up
the circular stairs, and at length emerge into the light. We are at the top of
the cupola, with the ball and the cross above us, and London is spread out
before us. Let us look for places of interest. Yonder is the Crystal Palace,
glittering in the sunlight. There are St. Thomas's Hospital, the Houses of
Parliament, the Embankment, the Strand, Fleet Street, the Post Office, the
Royal Exchange; and there we can just see a small portion of City Road
Chapel. The Thames towards Greenwich is hidden by the mist that has settled
upon it just beyond the Tower. A dull, buzzing sound reaches us as we watch
the busy multitudes in the streets. See how quickly that boy with the parcel
under his arm is making his way down the street. And there is our well-known
blind friend, using his stick as he slowly creeps along. We could almost fancy
we hear his well-known cry, Buy the boot-laces.' Yes, there they go, old and









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I- St. Paul's Cathedral. 2. Tomnb of" Wren. 33. Sir C. WVren. 4. Thel IBofry. 5. Hlowarl's Statuo
G. Flags of the Elousehold Cavalry. 7. Old St. Paul's. 8. WVren's Design. 9. The Choir.








16 THE THAMES EMBANKMENT.

young, rich and poor, strong and weak. How many, we wonder, amidst their
business, are laying up for themselves 'treasure in heaven?'
We linger awhile gazing on the view around us, and then descend. Passing
towards the front doors, we stop to look at the rent and torn flags of the
Household Cavalry and the Coldstream Guards. The names of Waterloo,
Inkermann, and Sebastopol, cause us to think of the many desperate struggles
that have taken place around them. Yes we are proud of the bravery of our
soldiers, and we delight to have their pierced flags and their monuments in our
public places. But we are none the less proud of our peaceful heroes. We
hope the great monument of Sir Christopher Wren will stand for ages, teach-
ing by its motto, Resurgam, that we, too, 'shall rise again.'

Leaving this grand old building, let us wend our way down Ludgate Hill,
and, turning round towards Blackfriars Bridge, make for the EMBANKMENT.
This fine promenade alongside old Father Thames is one of London's most
modern improvements. The greatest city in the world was, until some few
years ago, so much occupied in amassing riches, that very little was done to
make it beautiful. Its river's banks, although presenting an animated appear-
ance with the unloading of ship's cargoes, had been spoken of as an 'eyesore.'
When the tide was low, large and unhealthy muddy reaches were left exposed.
These became not only the sporting ground of the mudlark,' but the hotbed
of pestilence and fever; and were at last superseded by the beautiful promenade
which you see in our picture.
The idea of an Embankment is no new one. As far back as 1666, after
the Great Fire of London, Sir Christopher Wren proposed to raise a spacious
embankment to the river. But unfortunately, when the best opportunity
presented itself, while London was a heap of ruins and had to be rebuilt, the
idea was not adopted. Since that time, until Mr. Bazalgette, the engineer,
came forward with his plans, not one of the numerous schemes for this sorely
needed improvement had been carried out.
To construct an Embankment such as we now have was a work of no little
difficulty: for some distance the river had to be dammed, while the works
were in progress; the mud had to be dredged out, excavations made, and a
granite wall built on a foundation of Portland cement concrete, thirty-two and
a half feet below high-water mark, or fourteen feet below low-water mark.
A low-level sewer, a subway, and the District Railway, were also built under-




























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1. The Embankment. 2. The Embankment (Looking East). 3. At Night (Looking West). 4. Statue of
Robert Raikes. 5. Cleopatra's Needle.
3








i8 THE THAMilES EMBANKMAIEN'T.

ground. To go further into details would not interest many of you, but I
will jot down a few of the quantities of material used, for those who would
like to know. Of granite there were 650,000 cubic feet; brickwork, 80,000
cubic yards; concrete, 140,000 cubic yards ; timber, 500,000 cubic feet; York
paving, 125,000 superficial feet.
The Embankment is divided into three parts. The first, extending from
Westminster to Vauxhall Bridge, is named the Albert, and was opened
in November, 1869; the Victoria, from Blackfriars to Westminster, was
opened in July, 1870; and the Chelsea, from ('!.!- I to Battersea, in 1874.
The Victoria, of which alone we shall speak here, forms a very graceful
curved front to this noblest of English rivers, as well as a wide promenade
and carriage-way. The road is sixty-four feet wide; the foot-path on the land
side is sixteen feet, and that on the river side twenty feet wide. It is a mile
and a quarter in length, and is planted with trees on each side. The wall is
very simple, but strong. On its river side are placed bronze lions' heads,
carrying mooring rings. At intervals massive granite piers rise from the
wall around the spaces where are placed the landing-stages, and at other
places are steps projecting into the river.
Here we may often see those faithful animals, the dogs, taking their
daily bath, or swimming out into the river after sticks thrown by their owners.
But how quickly the little crowd of admirers scatters when Carlo or Topsy
shakes the water in showers over them!
On one of the landing-stages is placed the Thames Police-Station. These
water policemen are evidently fond of the beautiful things created by God. If
we keep our eyes and ears open as we pass in the boat, we shall notice the
flowers they cultivate, and hear the music of the songsters they care for.
The other day, while walking on the Embankment, I saw a loaf of bread on
the roof of the station, which, I suppose, had been placed there by these men
for the sparrows. And what a feast these little birds were having bursting
forth every now and then with the pretty twitterings which form their way of
saying Thank you.'
And here is Cleopatra's Needle, which, some three thousand years ago, stood
before the Temple of the Sun in Heliopolis, then was taken to adorn Alexandria,
and now has become one of the most conspicuous and attractive ornaments of
London. In the gardens near it is placed the statue of a man whose name every
Sunday-school girl and bey should know, Robert Raikes; he who, one hundred








WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 19

years ago, first set a-going the great work of teaching the young in
Sunday Schools. These blessed institutions abound not only in England;
wherever the name of Jesus is carried by Missionaries, a Sunday School is
soon established, where girls and boys are taught about Him Who said, Suffer
the little children to come unto Me.'
The old, muddy margin of the river has gone, and in its place this noble
quay stands with its gardens, a boon to the cooped up children of Central
London; and its hush and quiet afford sweet rest from the rush of busy life
to those engaged in the City.
At night, too, as we go homewards across one of the bridges, when the
eold, pale light of the moon is on the water, and the lights on the shore are
reflected into its depths, we think of those poor, outcast little ones who perhaps
find some place here for their homeless rest.
Beautiful, grand, and noble as is this waterside street, yet there is one
far better and brighter, where we may all walk with its Builder and Maker, if
we will give Him our heart's love.

Stepping away from the river side, we come to the chief temple of the
West of London, the venerable and beautiful WESTMINSTER ABBEY. Where
this grand building now stands, there once was a marsh covered with briers
and brushwood, and surrounded by a branch of the river Thames so as to form
an island, which from its rough nature was named Thorney Island.' On this
solitary and dreary spot-for the nearest part of Old London was that perhaps
where the old Lud-Gate afterwards stood-Sebert, King of the East Saxons,
built a church. It was replaced by a monastery named West Minster, to dis-
tinguish it from East Minster, as St. Paul's was formerly called. Many
fabulous stories were circulated by the old monks, who had a happy knack of
drawing attention to their church, and obtaining for their own benefit the
gifts of the people. They told of miraculous visits of St. Peter, and holy
angels, accompanied with heavenly music; and so succeeded in working upon
the minds of a superstitious people, that for many years the fishermen of
the Thames, in accordance with a command given in one of these legends,
sent presents of fish for the use of the authorities in the Abbey,
When the Danes invaded England, the little convent was destroyed; but
being restored soon afterwards by King Edgar, it dr.-',.dl on a languishing
existence until the time of Edward the Confessor. This good king built theb








20 WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

first Abbey of which we have any certain account, a part of which still remains.
He personally superintended the work, hastening it on as he felt the approach
of a severe illness, which proved fatal a few days after the grand opening
ceremony.
Westminster was now no longer a marshy, deserted island, but a beautiful
suburb where the royal palace and other noble buildings stood. To make a
nobler and more stately Abbey, Henry III. pulled down the greater portion
of the Confessor's building and erected one, the principal parts of which form
the larger portion of the existing Abbey. Edward I., II., III., and Richard III.
improved the building; and Henry VII. during his reign added the richly
decorated and magnificent chapel known by his name. Thus you see, much of this
building is over six hundred years old, and, if only for its great age, should be
regarded with esteem. Sir Christopher Wren restored it from the ruinous
state to which, through neglect and the ravages of war, it had been brought;
besides this, he built the two towers at the western end.
The interior, especially the view obtained from the western doors, greatly
impresses us with its grandeur, as we gaze at the long and lofty aisles, the
elegant pillars, and the l.:;uiitiiiil harmony of its ribbed vault, all so graceful
and delicate, and so venerable. We think, too, of the kings and others through
whose enterprise and ability the noble structure was raised. Turning, we notice
the statuary crowded around the base. What a contrast! From the dim light
of the upper part and the dull grey of the time-worn stonework, our eyes are
somewhat dazzled by the glaring white of the marbles, some massive, others
crowding one upon another, each storied with men's praises, and each seeming
to thrust itself upon us as most worthy our attention. They do not all add
to the beauty of the building; but they have been placed here in honour of
great and good men, chiefly to the memory of heroes whose fame has been
achieved by noble, peaceful deeds, and by the use of the pen rather than the
sword.
In our walks around, we stop before the monuments, and look interestedly
at the features of Wilberforce, Granville Sharp, Buxton, and others of that
gallant little band who devoted all their energies to abolish the slave trade;
and who, fighting against almost overwhelming opposition, finally obtained
freedom for nearly 800,000 slaves in the British dominions. There is a spot
in the floor of the nave, not very conspicuous, but marked by a black marble
slab, which becomes very dear to us as we stand and read the inscription, com-












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I. Poet' Corner 2 The Coronation Chair. Wesleys' Monument. 4. Handel Monument. 5. Wilberforces
Monument. 6. Shrine of Edward the Confessor. 7. Livingstone's Grave. S. Tomb of Henry III.
Monument. 6. Shrille of Edward the Confessor. 7. Livingstone's Grave. 8. Tomb of enrg III.








22 WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

ii. Inn.i. Brought by faithful hands over land and sea, here rests David
Livingstone.' Who can tell the benefits which shall yet follow from this patient
and good man's work of peace during the many years he spent in that dark
continent of Africa? Sir John Franklin, too, is honoured by a monument.
Of scientific heroes we find here Sir Isaac Newton, the great astronomer; James
Watt, the engineer; and Sir Humphry Davy, whose lamp is such a safe-
guard to miners.
Another monument must not be passed without notice. It is that erected
in honour of the Wesleys, the founders of the great body of Methodists,
whose influence is now felt in all parts of the world. With kindly feeling
the late Dean Stanley permitted this monument to be placed in the Abbey.
It is of white marble, and on it are carved the profiles of the two brothers,
and a representation of John Wesley preaching on his father's tombstone in
Epworth churchyard; with this inscription:

JOHN WESLEY, M.A., Born June 17th, 1703:
Died March 2nd, 1791.
CHARLES WESLEY, M.A., Born December 18th, 1708:
Died March 29th, 1788.
The best of all is, God is with us.'
'I look upon all the world as my parish.'
'God buries His workmen, but carries on His work.'
In the Poets' Corner, amongst a number of monuments are those of
Chaucer, Milton, S.l,.-.:: ..-r, Gray, Thomson, Goldsmith, Ben Jonson, and
Handel. Here also is the grave of C'lhrlr .- Dickens.
The Abbey was formerly the burial-place of the Sovereigns of England.
There are reposing within these venerable walls the remains of Sebert,
Edward the Confessor, Henry III., Edward I., Edward III., Richard II.,
Henry V., Edward V., Henry VII., Edward VI., Mary I., Elizabeth, James I.,
Charles II., William III. and Mary, Anne, and George II.
We will now visit the chapels.' In these, many persons of distinction
are interred, and have monuments raised to their memories. But the chapel
that most interests us is that built by Henry VII. To reach it we ascend the
black marble steps, pass through the open brass gates, and then meet such
a sight as will be remembered for a lifetime. From the gloomy porch we
suddenly emerge into a blaze of light and decoration. Our eyes are instantly








WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 23

directed upwards to the richly carved ceiling. All this stonework was wrought
oy men who lived nearly four hundred years ago. So skilfully have they employed
their tools, that their work defies description. On either side of the chapel
are the stalls of the Knights of the Order of the Bath, and above are placed
their banners, swords, and helmets. At the end stands the magnificent tomb
of Henry VII. and his Queen. In the south aisle of the chapel, we linger
round the fine monument erected to Mary Queen of Scots; and in the north
aisle a very similar one is placed to Queen Elizabeth, who, with her sister
Mary, is buried beneath.
Next, passing to the Chapel of St. Edwara, we come to the renowned
shrine of Edward the Confessor. The tomb of this good king is a mere
wreck of what it once was; but in one or two places we see a little of the
minute and delicate colour-work with which it was decorated. The shrine
was built at the command of Henry III., to receive the treasured remains
of the Confessor, and was most gorgeously decorated with paintings, jewels,
and gold. Close by is the tomb of Henry III., which originally was also very
richly decorated. What a contrast is the tomb of the bold warrior, Edward I.!
It is in a rough, unpolished structure of five slabs of grey marble, without
the least decoration, that his remains lie. Above the tomb of Henry V. are
the saddle, helmet, and shield that he evidently used so well at the battle of
Agincourt.
We now come to the Coronation Chairs, one of which was made for Mary,
Queen of William III. The one now before us was placed here by Edward I.,
and has let into it in front, just beneath the seat, the celebrated stone from
Scone, which was brought here amongst the regalia from Scotland by Edward.
It used to be asserted that this stone is the same which Jacob had for
a pillow at Bethel; but, of course, this is an absurd tradition. In this
chair all the reigning sovereigns have been crowned since Edward I., the last
one being our most gracious Queen, Victoria.






























THE TOWER OF LONDON IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

CHAPTER III.
TIIE TOWER OF LONDON.

"" IGHT in the East of London stands the TOWER, a mighty fortress,
which is a favourite resort for sight-seers, and is full of interest
for those who have to stay at home. It consists of many ancient
_buildings-towers, and gates, and chapels; and in its centre the
White Tower--a large, massive, quadrangular edifice, with a
turret at each corner-forms a striking object to the spectator who looks down
the busy river from London Bridge.
Let us pay a visit to this grim old Tower, and try to imagine ourselves in
the place'ofthe people who once lived there. For eight hundred years it has been
famous in history, and has pleasanter associations clinging to it than those which
belong to an ordinary prison. The Norman kings used to live in the part
known as Caesar's Tower. The gay gentlemen and ladies who danced and
feasted there had little idea of the grim, gloomy future that awaited it.
Flemish and Italian traders came thither with their curious handicraft for








THE TOWER OF LONDON. 25

sale; and all round there were gardens and archery grounds, as well as what
you would have liked less, the Courts of King's Bench and of Common Pleas.
If Gundulf the Weeper, who, in the latter half of the eleventh century,
designed the chief parts of the Tower, had known how all that gaiety would
pass away, while the rack and the block, and bolts and bars, should have their
day, we could not have wondered at the tears he shed. By the time that Henry
VII. came to the throne, many illustrious people had been imprisoned in the
Tower, some executed, and others murdered; but he kept his royal state there,
and feted his bride, the Lady Elizabeth of York.
I do not think that any part of the Tower can be more interesting to us
than that called the Bloody Tower, because the two young princes, sons of
Edward IV., were there put to death by order of their uncle Richard. This
building overlooks the Thames, and joins the gateway to the Inner Ward,
which contained the keep, the jewel-house, the wardrobe, queen's garden, &c.
It is quite possible that the poor little prisoners had many an hour of happy
play together before the dismal night when Forrest and Dighton stole upon
them in their innocent sleep. From their windows they could see the wharf,
the river, and the bridge. Then there was a garden for them to play in, and a
pleasant walk upon the wall.
The governor, Sir John Brackenbury, was no doubt kind to them; but
often must they have longed to see again their poor mother, Elizabeth Wood-
ville, from whose arms the youngest had been torn, and who was living in
retirement at the house of the Abbot of Westminster. She was a very pretty
lady, with bright, rosy cheeks, and a quantity of golden hair. But not for
beautiful face and pretty hair do children love their mothers. Ah, think how
you would feel were you carried away from yours, and locked up among fine
rooms and gardens where she might not come When Sir John Brackenbury
received orders from their uncle, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, that he was to
murder the little boys, he was very much shocked, and refused to do it. The
cruel uncle wanted the crown for himself, but the governor refused to do his
bidding. So Sir James Tyrrel was sent, with orders to take the keys from
him, but only till the morrow. He took with him two men, Dighton and
Forrest, who could in the dead of the night enter the chamber of the sleeping
boys and do the dark deed. One of the murderers afterwards confessed his
share in the transaction, and it is from his evidence, which we have only too
much reason to believe true, that the facts are taken. It is said that the








20 TlE TO WER OF L ONDON-

Selder boy had the New
Li Testament under his
pillow. Perhaps lihe
111I I fell asleep thinliing of
& ... iq some of the beautiful
words that Jesus
spoke about thelouse
/ with many man-
sions,' or His love for
l: the little ones. No
"" one knew what be-
came of the bodies,
but, 200 years after,
the bones of two boys
-- were found under the
._ old stone steps in the
.. royal chapel. There
THE PRINCES IN THE TOWER. being every reason















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_--. :'-- '-"4 .

























171


"ii. .7





FTI o






4---








II -










= cf YTE~(S C}J-A EL- INTER~ _________________








28 THE TO WER OF LONDON.

to believe that these were the bones of Edward V. and his brother, King
Charles II. ordered their removal to Westminster Abbey, our great burying-
place of kings. There they were laid in the chapel built by Henry VII.
The Beauchamp Tower is so called from Thomas Beauchanp, Earl of
Warwick, who was imprisoned in it towards the end of the fourteenth century.
Another Earl of Warwick, John Dudley, with several members of his family,
was confined in the same place more than 150 years later. One of the sons
was Lord Guilford Dudley, the husband of Lady Jane Grey, whose sorrowful
story is, I have no doubt, well known to us all.
The great offence of Earl Beauchamp was-that lie had given sound
advice to a young king who did not like advice. This young king was Richard
II., and no sooner had he attained his majority than he sent away a governor
of whom he had long been weary. Beauchamp went to his own castle at
Warwick, and was no doubt a great deal happier improving his estates, design-
ing churches, and planting trees, than he was in trying to train into order a
perverse sprig of royalty. But, years after, the king made him a prisoner in
the Tower, on the pretext that he had exceeded the power delegated to him in
the days of the minority, and had caused to be tried and executed a favourite
of the king's, named Simon Burley. This was quite true, but Beauchamp had
acted in accordance with what was thought best in those sanguinary days.
The Londoners were very indignant at his imprisonment, as he had before
received pardon for the act under the great seal. He was sentenced to be
hanged, drawn, and quartered, and his property confiscated. The king did not
dare to have this cruel sentence carried out. He let him remain for some time
in the Tower; and then, finding how everybody sympathized with him, he sent
him away to the Isle of Man. But the Tower proved to be the safest place for
him after all, and he was brought back to it, till, on the accession of Henry V., he
was set at liberty, and restored to the wealth and honours of which he had been
so unjustly deprived. He is buried at Warwick, in the church which he built
during his retirement from court life.
The first St. Peter's Church, or Chapel, and the White Tower, and the Jewel
House, were among the works of Gundulf the Weeper. Henry III. gave the
chapel a musical chime of bells, and to St. John's Chapel in the White Tower
sculptured images of saints.
St. Peter's Chapel was rebuilt in the reign of Edward I. Just opposite
the door is the Tower Green, an open space behind all the buildings named,







"THE TOWER OF LONDON. 29

but near the White and Beau-
Slchamp Towers. It was used
as the place of execution.
S Here, on the spot marked by
an oval figure, Anne Boleyn,
Catherine Howard, and Lady
-,,2 'J ,'1!, Jane Grey were beheaded. Very
near it they were buried, as
:- r. were also DnPll.-y, Duke of
SNorthumberland, the Protector,
Duke of Somerset, Sir Thomas
.. I- More, the Countess of SIr.\\ -
-4K":_ -_- $ K.l -- bury, the unfortunate Duke of
-' Monmouth, and some Jacobite
lords.
The Bloody Tower was the
S-- --- prison to which Charles I. com-
--- -:.-- i mitted Sir John Eliot, a patriot
I --- -----_---- who contended nobly for the
I .- --r- fi T':'A rights of Englishmen. De-
prived of the power to act and -
to speak, Eliot prayed and .
wrote; but his health failed and --" -
he died. -
The Middle and Byward .-'
Towers, situated close to the
drawbridge over the moat, do L.
not need much notice. Almost '
beneath the Bloody Tower is a "
channel which used to connect
the water of the Thames with
that of the Tower moat; but 'I
it is now dry, and laid out
with turf and shrubs. Prison- 5-'.
ers of State were brought in -
here, passing under the gloomy n.
"-- ----':- -:-- "-' - '" "7








30 THE TO WER OF LONDON.

archway of St. Thomas's Tower, which, in compliment to them, was called
Traitor's Gate. But they were by no means all traitors who passed under it.
Traitor's Gate was built by Henry III., and bears evidence of his rich taste.
It is said to be one of the finest arches in the world. It is not likely that the
unfortunate prisoners who were drawn up to it, and who saw the Bloody Tower
looming above it, were much impressed with its beauty. To Elizabeth Tudor,
Queen Mary's half-sister, the place looked so dismal through a soaking rain,
that she shrank from landing, and asked if she might not remain in her barge.
It was Palm Sunday, but none of the gladness of that holy day breathed
through the heavy March air. No children's clear hosannas, no swelling
anthem, no silver chime of bells. The chief constable and his guards, all
dressed in armour, waited on the wharf to receive their royal charge. One
can imagine the curl upon the young girl's lips as she asked,
'Are all these harnessed men for me?'
'No, Madam,' said Sir John Gage.
'Yes, but I know it is so,' and she sprang on shore.
Then, on the very stones where her mother, Anne Boleyn, had knelt and
called on God as witness of her innocence, did Elizabeth stand and proclaim
herself a true subject, though an imprisoned one.
Sir John proved a hard warder, never allowing lier the least indulgence.
He thought of that when she was queen, being afraid of her resentment; but
the queen only showed it by telling him that if ever she had a prisoner
whom she wished to be treated with more than ordinary severity, she would
be sure to commit him to his care.
Ah! many breaking hearts have passed through Traitor's Gate, many
whose sorrow was the sad fruit of their sin; but there have been many also
whose wounds God has bound up, whose tears He has for ever wiped away.
These have witnessed, as we all hope to do, that

'Christ leads us through no darker rooms
Than He went through before.'

The White Tower is that part of the Tower known as Cesar's, where
Norman and Plantagenet kings held their court, where foreign traders came to
lay out their fancy bazaars, and where also were kept the royal robes and jewels.
This tower, ninety feet high, is laid out in four stories-the vaults, the
main floor, the banqueting floor, and the State floor. Each floor contains








TEE TOWER OF LONDON.

three rooms, besides the
vaults, and those dark,
close dungeons to which
rebels, pirates, and Jews
were mercilessly confined. .
A chamber called Little
Ease runs across, still
darker and damper. It is
believed that Guy Fawkes
was put into Little Ease.
I do not know whether
the idea of this chamber
was taken from the Inqui-
sition. Little Ease, in the
Inquisition, was a room too
small for the prisoner to
be comfortable in any po-
sition. He could not stand
upright nor lie down.








,_ .. I


"ONE TAN T LITTLE EASE r




" "';- -:, --- -=-:---- --


PRISONERS ENTRANCE--WHITE TOWERS. LITTLE EASE.








32 THE TO TVWER OF LONDON

There are inscriptions on the walls, and in another crypt of the White
Tower may be made out:
IE THAT INDUJETH TO THE ENDE SHALL BE SAVID
M 10. R. Rudaton
Dulr. Kent. Ano. 1553.'
Be faithful unto the Deth and I will Give thee a crowne of Life.
F. Fane 1554.'
One might think it almost as hard to get into the White Tower
as out of it, the stairways are so narrow and winding. A Bishop of Durham,
Ralph Flambard, who was imprisoned there, accomplished the latter feat. He
gave a banquet to his wardens, chaplains, and servants, professedly because
he was not kept close and hard like other prisoners, but was allowed to enjoy
himself in almost any way that was agreeable to him.
At this banquet he pretended to drink with the rest, but it was only
pretence; for, when he had thoroughly unmanned them all and sent them
asleep, he took a long rope out of a jar, tied it to a window-shaft, and let
himself down sixty-five feet to the ground. Prince Griffin, knowing what
Flambard had done and how well he had succeeded, tried to let himii. It down
from the leads, but broke his neck in the attempt.
The place where the rack stood is so gloomy and dark that there are
not many of our young companions who would like to venture in alone. It
must have been a di.-:.i(lll thing to have been led there-the instrument of
torture awaiting one. From a fac-simile of Guy Fawkes's handwriting, both-
before and after he was laid on the rack, we can see its power over even a
strong, firm man; and need not wonder that recantation and false witness
have been wrung from the victims, which they would gladly have recalled

The thumb-screw and the rack were seldom applied to any person of
rank ; but sturdy knights and barons must have trembled when they thought
of the test awaiting the fortitude of their loyal servitors.
When Felton, the assassin of the Duke of Buclingham, was on trial for
the crime, Archbishop Laud told him that he must confess or go upon the
rack. If I am racked, my lord,' was his reply, I may happen in my agony
to accuse your lordship.' That was a consequence the archbishop had not
thought of. However, it was decided that, according to English law, the








THE TOWER OF LONDON 33

torture could not be used; and happily it was abandoned, and the instruments
of it are only kept on exhibition as relics.
In the Wakefield or Record Tower were preserved the records of the
kingdom, from the beginning of the reign of Henry VIII. or earlier; and in
the Martin or Jewel Tower were long kept the crown and sceptre, globe and
staff; in fact, all the jewels worn by the English kings. The knight in charge
was called the Master of the ;._ ..i'. The practice of admitting visitors to
inspect them was introduced by Sir Gilbert Talbot, by the king's permission,
in order that the fees might increase his salary, which was small, considering
the importance of his trust.
On the south wall of St. -'.; .'s church is a slab to the memory of Talbot

-::I, :,


,,A

























THE REGALIA.
4
.,I -I .








v






THE REGALIA.
4








34 THE TOWER OF LONDON.
Edwards, l.hjihty keeper of the crown jewels. He was eighty years of age
when a very clever plot was laid to take away his treasure, and the poor old
man was nearly beaten to death by the ruffians in his attempt to give the
alarm. The conspirators had made off with the Regalia, but were hardly
outside the Tower when they were overtaken. Then there was such a scuffle
that the crown of England was rolled in the mud, and some of the gems
fell out. A street-sweeper picked up the pearl, and an apprentice the diamond,
but some of the gems were never recovered. The man who carried off the
globe was stopped, and turned out to be a notorious rebel. Of course they
were all taken back to the Tower as prisoners, instead of the pleasant
curious visitors they had pretended to be. You will be surprised to hear that
King Charles pardoned them all; but he had reasons for that, which you
may learn when you are older.
These treasures are now kept in the new Jewel House, a small stone
building, erected in 1841-2, and presenting a dwarfed imitation of a gate-
way to some old castle or abbey. This is always a centre of attraction; for
who does not like to see crowns, sceptres, and jewels? Peeping through the
railings which surround the glass case which contains these rarities, we shall
find five crowns, known as St. Edward's, the Crown of State, the Queen's
Circlet of Gold, the Queen's Crown, and the Queen's rich Crown; of which
the first and the fourth are the proper coronation crowns. The crown of
state is adorned with three jewels of almost inestimable value : a ruby, a pearl,
considered the finest in the world, and an emerald seven inches in cir-
cumference. Then there are the Orb, an emblem of authority over all the
world, the Eagle of Gold, the Sword of Mercy and the two Swords of
Justice, St. Edward's Staff-a sceptre of gold four feet seven and a half inches
long-four other sceptres of gold and precious stones; bracelets, spurs, salt-
cellar; sacramental plate, of beautiful workmanship and the most precious
metal; gold tankards, dishes, spoons, &c. All these objects are pleasant to
look at, and each has its little history to interest us when we can spare time
to listen to it. Their chief use is to figure at coronation ceremonies and
banquets; but their brilliancy and good looks also serve the purpose of
refreshing the eyes of many a visitor when wearied with the dull miles of
brick and mortar outside the Tower precincts.
Walking round the White Tower, we find a long low building attached
to its southern side. This is the Armoury, and we will step into it and explore







THE TOWfER OF LONDON. 35

its wonders. We enter a long room, down the centre of which stana a long
range of mounted warriors, with lance, sword, battle-axe, or mace in hand,
and banner flying overhead. They are clad in suits of armour, and represent
kings, princes, nobles, and knights, arrayed in the fashion of various ages. In
front of them we see a number of men-at-arms, bowmen, pikemen, &c., with
a great variety of weapons and armour; while behind is tastefully arranged an
interesting collection of armour, belonging chiefly to the fifteenth, sixteenth,
and seventeenth centuries. Though the old warder, or "beef-eater," does not
allow us much time for contemplation or examination, we still have time to be
struck with the beauty of the picture which this long, storied room presents,
with its foemen, grim or brilliant, its pointed arches, its ingenious ceiling
made up of weapons, and the orange light shed by the stained glass on the
nearest figures.
Passing through the wall of the White Tower into Queen Elizabeth's
Armoury, once the prison of Sir Walter Raleigh, we find a vast variety of
interesting objects-suits of armour, helmets, breastplates, battle-axes, pikes,
swords, old pistols and linstocks, ancient pieces of artillery, &c.: and we mark
especially a cannon that sank with The Royal George,
'When Kempenfeldt went down
With twice four hundred men,'
now fished up and mounted on a piece of the timber of the ill-fated old man-of-
war. Glancing at Tippoo Saib's helmet, belt, and swords, at Chinese dresses,
Mahratta weapons, Indian armour; and shuddering at the horrid instruments
of torture to which our worthy forefathers were subjected, and at the axe
and block which finished the career of some, we gain the upper end of the
room, and pay our respects to Queen Bess, arrayed in all her glory, and
mounted on horseback, attired, we are assured, as she was when she went
to return thanks at St. Paul's for her and the nation's deliverance from the
Spanish Armada. And so, for the present, we bid farewell to the Tower,
with the feeling that it is a place well worth visiting and revisiting.





















'-V-- I






CITY ROAD CHAPEL.

CHAPTER IV
STATUES AND MONUMENTS-ROYAL ALBERT HALL-CITY ROAD CHAPEL.

rambling about the great city we meet with some fine statues
-and monuments, intended to commemorate important events, or
SI- to keep bright the fame of men who have devoted their lives to
: their country's service, or have performed some grand and bene-
ficial work. Years may have rolled away since these worthies
lived, yet it is still interesting to gaze on their features as preserved in stone
or metal by the skill of the sculptor, and to recall the noble deeds for which
they were distinguished.
Of the many monuments with which London is adorned, let us first notice
that to the memory of the hero of Trafalgar, Horatio Lord Nelson (No. 1 in our
illustration on p. 39). The figure of this fighting seaman stands on a column
177 feet high, opposite the National Gallery. The four protruding corners at the
base have massive lions-the work of Sir Edward Landseer-upon them; and
the four tablets depict Nelson at the battles of Copenhagen, the Nile, St. Vin-








STATUES AND MONUMENTS. 37

cent, and his death at Trafalgar. He was born September 29th, 1758, at
Burnham Thorpe, in Norfolk, of which place his father was rector. When a
boy he was feeble and sickly; and throughout his life his small, slender body
seemed a great contrast to the daring spirit which filled it and led him on to
so many great victories. He commenced his naval career at the age of thirteen,
and was not long in proving himself to be an expert seaman. When the war
broke out with France, his growing fame reached its height by a series of
amazing victories, in the lustre of which all other naval glory appears insigni-
ficant. Burning with the love of conquest, his name alone became a terror to
his enemies. Longing to engage in conflict with the French navy, he, after
chasing them for some time, upon arriving at the Bay of Trafalgar saw the
navies of both France and Spain moving to meet him. And there, on the 21st
of October, 1805, he gained his greatest triumph, and England lost her greatest
warrior of the sea: for Nelson received a wound in the breast, from which,
amidst the roar of battle and shouts of victory, he died. He is buried in
our cathedral of St. Paul's.
Another hero is-or rather, was till recently-commemorated by a monu-
ment (No. 2) at Hyde Park. England's greatest general, Arthur, Duke of
Wellington, was born May 1st, 1769, at Dangan Castle, in Ireland. He entered
the army, as an Ensign of the 41st Regiment, in 1787; and in Holland seven
years afterwards engaged for the first time in active service. His life is one
long record of brilliant actions and well-earned victories. In the Netherlands,
India, Spain, Portugal, and France, wherever he led his army, the Iron Duke
scattered his enemies. His brightest laurels were gained in delivering Spain
from the power of France, and principally at the battles of the Douro, Badajos,
and Salamanca. But it was on the 18th of June, 1815, at the great battle ot
Waterloo, that his crowning triumph was won, when he completely crushed the
power of Napoleon. He devoted himself very much to the service of his
Sovereign and country, and was esteemed an honourable and upright man.
He was kind to those who served under him; and, when engaged in fighting
his country's battles, was careful for the lives of his men. But when safety
lay in daring, he was bold indeed. He died at Walmer Castle, on September
14th, 1852, and was buried in St. Paul's.
England may well be proud of the soldier whose monument (No. 4) stands
at Trafalgar Square. Major-General Sir Henry Havelock was born April 5th,
1795, at Bishop-Wearmouth, in Durham. Joining the army a little while








38 STATUES AND MIONUMTENTS.

after the battle of Waterloo, he went to India, and distinguished himself in the
Afghan and Sikh wars. At the outbreak of the Indian Mutiny he and a gallant
little army pushed to the relief of the British at Cawnpore and Lucknow,
fighting almost every inch of the way, and gaining victory upon victory along
this march of fire. At length, terribly thinned and weakened by fatigue and
sickness, the victorious little army fought their way into Lucknow, but only
to be themselves shut in, until Sir Colin Campbell forced his way to their rescue.
Havelock was a Christian soldier, and set to work as a missionary in his own
regiment. And when his 'Ironsides' were engaged in fighting, they soon
proved that good soldiers of Christ were none the worse men in battle. Just
before his death he said to Sir James Outram, 'For more than forty years I
have so ruled my life, that when death came I might face it without fear.'
Another soldiers' monument is the Guards Memorial (No 5) in Waterloo
Place, erected to the honour of those who fought in the Crimea. Here Victory
is represented crowning the soldiers.
Near to this last monument is one (No. 6) to a hero whose life was laid
down in the peaceful conquests of discovery. Rear-Admiral Sir John Franklin
was born April 6th, 1786, at Spilsby, in Lincolnshire. In 1800 he entered the
Royal Navy as midshipman. He commenced his discoveries in the Arctic Seas
in 1819; and in his first expedition, lasting three and a half years, he travelled
5,550 miles under circumstances of the greatest hardship and privation, to which
more than half his comrades succumbed. These valuable explorations engaged
him till 1827. In May, 1845, this grand old sailor, then in his sixtieth year,
but hale and hearty, started on his last and ill-fated voyage to the Arctic Seas.
In July of that year the vessels were last seen; and then, as time went by and
no news of the explorers came from the cold, dark, and cruel Arctic circle,
Europeans and Americans vied with each other in their efforts to penetrate to
the relief of the sufferers. M'Clintock, in 1859, found out that Franklin had
died June 11th, 1847, fortunately before he could witness the awful sufferings of
his men, as one by one they dropped exhausted, perishing in the cheerless realm
of the Ice King. Franklin was a true Christian and a teetotaller, and was
one of the boldest explorers that ever left the shores of Great Britain.
The history of George Stephenson, whose statue is in Euston Railway
Station (No. 7), is very instructive. He was born June 9th, 1781, amidst great
poverty. His first employment was as cowherd, at twopence per day; then he
advanced to hoeing turnips, at fourpence. At eighteen he could neither read




























rIi















--__ __ ->j---























1. Nelson's Column. 2. Duke of Wellington. 3. The Monument. 4. Havelock. 5. Crimea.
6. Sir J. Franklin. 7. George Stephenson. 8. Prince Albert. 9. Sir Hugh Myddelton.








40 STATUES AND MONUMENTS.

nor write, and his life-especially the earlier part-was a long contest between
determined industry and poverty; but slowly, inch by inch, we find him rising
from his poverty, perfecting colliery engines, inventing the Geordie' safety
lamp, and introducing that great means of progress-the railway engine.
The statue of our good, noble, Christian Prince Consort given in our
picture (No. 8) stands on Holborn Viaduct. That to Sir Hugh Myddelton
(No. 9), who used all his money in making the canal called the New River,
thirty-eight miles long, to supply London with water, is at Islington Green.
The Monument (No. 3), 202 feet high, commemorating the Great Fire of
London, is placed very near the spot where that fire commenced in Pudding
Lane.
The grandest of all our London monuments to departed worth is the
Memorial erected at Kensington in memory of Prince Albert. Noble in its plan
and dimensions, built of varied and valuable material, and enriched with
appropriate statuary, it is at once an adornment to the great city, and a
national memento of a good and wise man. Most of our public monuments have
been erected to men of the sword, and connmemorate the achievements in arms
of our naval heroes and military chiefs. The Albert Memorial is reared to one
who won fame in the ranks of peace, and whose glory it was that he used his
exalted position for the highest ends, upholding good morality by his example
and influence, and furthering the progress of the nation in every way. This
ir1. i-i.iri.d to him is well worth a visit, and a leisurely examination of its artistic
beauties.
The base of the monument is formed by three quadrangular flights of steps,
arranged like part of a wide-spreading pyramid; at the four corners are large
masses of carved granite, on which stand groups of marble statuary, gigantic
in proportions, and representing Europe, Asia, Africa, and America. Above the
steps rises the pedestal of the Memorial, elaborately adorned with nearly 200
figures in high relief and of life size. These are full-length portraits, or statues,
of celebrated painters and sculptors, poets and other writers, men of science,
&c.; and you will be much interested if you can spend a few minutes in trying
to identify these worthies. At the four corners of this podium, or pedestal,
we find some more groups of allegorical statuary; representing Commerce,
Manufactures, Agriculture, and Engineering. Then comes the gigantic
statue of Prince Albert, richly gilt, and resting on a pedestal fifteen feet high.
He is sitting on a chair of state, and robed as a Knight of the Garter. Over































-7---~ -












_- -- j~i]






c~-I== _. --=----L~~---Eu.-






--- Ill------




I!~
/1_i.








42 STATUES AND MONUMENTS.

him is a richly decorated Gothic canopy, about thirty feet square, supported by
groups of polished granite columns, and surmounted by a beautiful spire, highly
"ornamented up to the very top, where a cross completes this marvellous piece
of art workmanship. The total height of the Memorial is 176 feet.
Close by, we find a magnificent building, which may be taken as another
monument to the memory of the much lamented prince. It had been 'his
intention to erect a large hall which might be used in promotion of the arts
and sciences, and for the display of works of industry, &c. But he did not live
to carry out his design; and after his death it was determined to realize the
idea in a memorial building at Kensington. Hence arose the ROYAL ALBERT
HALL, which, however, was not completed till the year 1871. It is an immense
Liifildilli.- of fine proportions; and some notion of its vast size may be gathered
from the fact that 70,000 blocks of terra-cotta were used in its construction.
Round the frieze we find an inscription, in large letters, which reads thus:
'This Hall was erected for the advancement of the arts and sciences, and for
the works of industry of all nations, in fulfilment of the intentions of Albert,
Prince Consort. The site was purchased by the proceeds of the great Exhibi-
tion of the year 1851. The first stone of the Hall was laid by Her Majesty
Queen Victoria, on the 20th day of May, 1867, and it was opened by Her
?I.Ij.- ty the Queen on the 29th day of March, in the year 1871.' Above the
frieze run these words, in letters a foot high: 'Thine, 0 Lord, is the greatness,
and the power, and the glory, and the victory, and the majesty: for all that is
in the heaven and in the earth is Thine. The wise and their works are in
the hand of God. Glory be to God on high, and on earth peace.'
The interior of this vast building is arranged as an amphitheatre, and will
seat between 6,000 and 7,000 persons; while about 2,000 more can be com-
fortably placed on a sloping staging in the picture gallery which surrounds the
Hall. It contains a noble organ; in fact, it is said to be the largest in the
world, having about 8,000 pipes, which are distributed over four manuals and
a pedal organ. Verily, the organist ought to be able to make a tremendous
and highly varied noise in the world I hope you will not be frightened to go
near the organ, when I add that the motive power is supplied by two steam
engines !
But, high as Prince Albert stands in our estimation, we Londoners can
show you a monument to a man still higher and greater. True, he was only
a tinker, but, whatever his craft, his soul was one of the largest, and his creative







STATUES AND MONUMENTS. 43











~~~- - ----_ _
"- --- -- --- -- --












-I I










THE ROYAL ALBERT HALL.

faculty one of the finest, that the world has ever known. And though John
Bunyan's tomb is a very meek and mild one, we may safely affirm that his fame
will last as long, and his glory shine as brightly, as that of any prince, or
warrior, or statesman that has ever lived.








44 STATUES AND MONUMENTS.




; .ll

_. ....... .




















books and in his country's story, and his modest effigy recumbent on his new
tomb in Bunhill Fields Burial Ground, serves simply to show that his country-
men of this generation have not forgotten him.
And here let us note that Bunhill Fields contain the dust of many great
Nonconformists, such as John Owen and Isaac Watts, and of Daniel Defoe, the
author of a book which most boys and girls have read, Robinson Crulsoe. Here
also lies Susacnnal Wesley, the mother of John Wesley; but to find her
monument we have to cross City Road, and look into the precincts of the dear
old mother chapel of Methodisum. Here, on te right hand side of the yard,
as we face the chapel front, we see a fair, sightly monument to the memory of
this excellent woman, who, after a life of many storms and trials, found a haven
of repose in the dwelling-house connected with the old Foundery chapel, which
stood not many hundred feet from this spot, on Windmill Hill, afterwards called
Windmill Street, but now forming part of Tabernacle Street.
r\'onconf~Pmist-, '",' ,,,,i '-nOe n sacTntado D~ilDfe











Nonconfbrmistss----- suhasJhnOenad sacWtsad fDai! eoe h







STATUES AND MONUMENTS. 45

In front of us is the far- -- --
famed chapel, now more -
than a century old, seeing it '"
was opened by Mr. Wesley ,!1,il [. _
oi Sunday, November 1st, -.
1778. For a long time it ',11 lII' -,Ill I'
was called the New Chapel, 'i I I
and so well does it carry its: ,:I
age that even now we can- 'i
not style it an 'old' chapel, 1 ,
except as a term of endear- 'i '"'I,1: I''I
ment-'dear old' place. The I--: '1 '''
outside of the chapel, as 4 i-, 1
you see, has a quaint, plea- : ::11 .
sant, classical appearance; i ." I i'l'l; i1
and Mr. Wesley did not ex- ,"
ceed the truth when, at its 'i I"
opening, he pronounced it
' perfectly neat, but not fine. ..- "
Passing through the Dorice
portico, we enter the vene-
rable building, anl are I .
pleased with its light, cheer- i it i
ful aspect. There is the old I_ -
pulpit, in which so many ',hil
great preachers have stood ;
and behind it the semi-
circular recess in which the MIfS. SUSANNAH WESLEY'S MONUMENT AND
WESLEY'S HOUSE.
communion table stands is
lighted by three windows, and has its right and left walls covered with tablets
in memory of the Wesleys, Fletcher, Clarke, Benson, and Coke, while in the
centre we can read the Lord's Prayer, the Commandments, and the Creed.
A deep gallery runs round three sides of the chapel; numerous tablets on the
lower walls commemorate the names and the worth of several eminent
ministers and laymen and devout ladies ; and a fine granite pillar stands as a
son's memorial to Dr. Waddy.








46 STATUES AND MONUMENTS.

Behind the chapel is the
principal part of the graveyard,
in the centre of which we shall
S---- find Mr. Wesley's tomb and
S monument, enclosed byiron rail-
ing. In the vault beneath are
-. also buried his sister, Mrs. Hall,
S_ and four of his preachers. Near
to this is the grave of the
learned Dr. Adam Clarke, and
LN close by are buried the Rev.
Joseph Benson, Richard Wat-
son, Sanmuel Bradburn, and
other famous ministers.
As we return from the back
of the chapel, and walk along
IIItowards City Road, we find on
our left hand 'Wesley's house,'
,V a plain brick building, in which
: Mr. Wesley lived, whenever he
I w , as in London, from the year
,, '.,.. 1779 till his death in 1791. His
apartments were on the first
TOMB OF REV. JOHN WESLEY.

floor, his sitting-room
facing City Road, and
his bed-room being the
back room with windows
-. -towards the chapel. A
few relies of him remain
in the house: his good
old clock, which stands
on the staircase, and still
"keeps excellent time ; his
comfortable high-backed
MG. WESLEY CHAIN. ME. WESLEY'S BOOK-CASE.







STATUES AND MONUMENTS. 47
chair, which is used by the President at every London Conference; his book-
case, bureau, side table, and, lastly, his teapot, presented to him by the
celebrated potter, Wedgwood, capable of holding over four quarts, and having
on its sides the well known 'graces,' Be present at our table, Lord,' and,
'We thank Thee, Lord, for this our food.'















,, i,,I--- -


iE MR. WESLEY'S BUREAU.












MR. WESLEY'S TABLE. ME. WESLEY'S TEAPOT.

In an adjoining street-Castle Street-are the spacious premises known
as 'The Wesleyan Conference Office,' or 'Book Room,' from which issue









48 STATUES AND MONUMENTS.

monthly many thousands of books, magazines, tracts, &c., and to which a new
adjunct is now to be found in the beautiful book saloon lately opened in City
Road, opposite the Artillery Ground, which may be regarded as one of the
latest, and not the least appropriate, of the many monuments in London to the
Founder of Methodism.
Passing through Finsbury Square, and turning to the right along Chis-
well Street and Barbican, and crossing busy Aldersgate Street, we come to
Smithfield, vastly altered from the old market-place of thirty or forty years ago.
Then you would have found yourself in a huge wilderness of pens for oxen,
sheep, pigs; and would have had some difficulty in making your way through
the throng of drovers and dealers, and in effecting your escape from the horns
of bewildered bullocks or the snouts of wayward pigs. But now all that is
changed, and the dead meat markets occupy the principal space, and do their
share in supplying the million mouths that want meat every Id I But we will
not just now visit those huge buildings, but will direct our steps to the
part of Smithfield of which our cut gives a representation, and near which a
tablet is inserted in the wall, bearing the following inscription:



OF AD WHICH




"THE NOBLE ARMY OF MARTYRS PRAISE THEE.


S WITHIN A FEW FEET OF THIS SPOT
JOHN ROGERS,
JOHN BRADFORD,
JOHN PHILPOT,
AND OTHER
SERVANTS OF GOD
SUFFERED DEATH BY FIR:
FOR THE FAITH OF CHRIST
IN THE YEARS 1555, 1556, 1557.



NEAR THIS PLACE A CHUF.CH
IS ERECTED
TO THE MEMORY
OF THE SAID MARTYRS.








STATUES AND MONiUM-ENTS. 49

It was here that the brave John Rogers, the first martyr in the persecution
for which the bigoted Queen Mary is notorious, suffered death at the stake,
because he preferred the pure doctrines of the Reformation to the corruption
of the Romish Church. Constant to the truth, he cheerfully for it gave his
body to be burned, and bathed his hands in the flames, thus showing that the
pain of burning had no terror for his stout heart and steadfast soul. The light
which he and his fellow martyrs kindled in England, by God's grace, will never
die out. Let us do our part to keep it alive.

















"- j "Al.
,_ ''



-_ -_ _











SITE OF ROGERS' MARTYRDOM.




5















_






id




SI- -- i -IH% 1.r i








N-- THE RIVER.
II \T' would London be without a river? Probably, if it existed at
.1. it would be a quiet old place, visited chiefly out of curiosity by
.i tiquaries, bent on seeing its Roman and early British relics and
-W raiiains. The Thames has been the highway of its commerce
long before railways were invented, and still is as busy and
crowded as ever. But useful as it is and has been for trade and travel, it separates
the City and the West End from an immense population in Southwark and
Lambeth and Vauxhall and Battersea; and it is therefore necessary to have
J ...... t Tvul _--- a -::ie ,:-lte iitdcifyo t fc roi
', -:'ares b-I t- .- -.------ -t .... n na "al '---hreis a
i --j .... __lnn. TeTaeshsbe h ilr\a fiscm
5__ be_-r __:-ny -er in_-_ ed n _tl i_._-.,. -_-
__ _-di a--- ev:-_ --t us.-u =_. it--.- -_ _n -.s henfrtaead trvl sl







BRIDGES OVER THE THAMES. 51

a good number of large bridges across it, as boats would not answer the purpose,
and could not keep the traffic going. So now we will have a peep at some of
these appliances.
Old Father Thames, at London, from the time of the Saxons downwards
for very nearly 800 years, could boast only one bridge over his rushing torrent.
And each successive bridge built on that spot, but more especially the old
stone one, became the pride of all London. We almost wonder that there
were then found men skilful enough to begin such a difficult task, when every-
thing had to be done by hand, and with very rough and peculiar tools.
London Bridge was once a favourite resort of the citizens for witnessing
the tilting jousts and other rough and noisy sports on the water. Later on,
it became the scene of fierce conflicts with rebels, triumphal entries of con-
querors, and gorgeous pageants. Fierce flames and wild storms beat upon
and battered it; but the old stone bridge stood firm and long.
The first London Bridge was a low wooden one, built some eight or nine
hundred years ago, but did not remain long in its position. It was blown
down and washed away during a fierce storm. Then William Rufus, seeing
the necessity of a bridge across the river, imposed a heavy tax on wool, as a
means of getting the money to build another. From this incident we get the
saying, London Bridge was built upon woolsacks.'
The first stone bridge was built from the design of Peter of Colechurch, a
priest. It was commenced in 1176, and took thirty-three years for its com-
pletion. In the centre, a chapel dedicated to Thomas a Becket was one of the
most conspicuous buildings. It may seem strange to us to read of houses
built on bridges; but, I suppose, the latter were not considered finished until
they had almost a little town upon them. This bridge had houses from end to
end, with a street, which afterwards became a market-place, between them.
It also had gates with towers, and a drawbridge in one of the arches, which was
raised when vessels had to pass. One singular house attracted a great deal
of attention. It was called 'Nonsuch House,' and was made entirely of wood
in Holland, and brought over in pieces, when it was set up without mortar or
"nails, wooden pegs only being used to hold it together. It is the first house
with six towers shown in our picture of Old London Bridge.
But old Time and other more violent visitants were leaving very visible
traces of destruction behind them; and what with patching and mending, there
was scarcely a stone of the original bridge left, when it was taken down in








52 BRIDGES OVER THE THAMES.

1823-4. Again and again did the hungry flames of fire sweep across the
ancient bridge, reducing the buildings to ashes, and weakening the stonework
by their heat. Neglected after one of these great fires, it was allowed to get
into a very ruinous state, and a winter's severe frost and ice loosened and
carried away five of its nineteen arches. This disaster is commemorated in the
old song, London Bridge is broken down.' Some time after, another portion
fell, carrying with it the south stone gate and tower. And once again, in 1757,
a portion was discovered in such a rickety state, that Mr. John Smeaton, the
great engineer, was sent for to advise what it was best to do. The stones of
the old city gates, which had just been taken down, were lying at Moorficlds.
These were thrown in to support the tottering pier. Besides these disasters,
the bridge was getting infirm and old, and it was only by repeated tinkering
and patching and propping that it was kept in a serviceable condition.
The old city, which had considered Peter Colechurch's bridge its pride and
glory, at last found the narrow street insufficient for its traffic: and so the
houses were cleared away. That was satisfactory for a time; but while the
bridge had been growing old and crazy, London had increased very much in
extent and population, and had become mighty in the eyes of all the world.
And a bridge which satisfied Londoners in earlier times, was not thought to be
equal to the great and increasing industry of modern London. So, notwith-
standing the reluctance of the people to give up repairing their old bridge, it
was condemned to be pulled down. In June, 1825, the foundation stone of the
new bridge was laid amidst great pomp; and the finished bridge was opened
by King William IV., on August 1st, 1831.
This present bridge, built by Rennie, is regarded as one of the finest granite
bridges in the world. It is very simple, but bold in design; and, spanning the
river with its five vast arches, is a far more magnificent and massively strong
one than the old. Its cost was not much less than 2,000,000.
What a countless number of busy, hurrying feet pace throngingly over this
great thoroughfare! Almost as ceaselessly as the ebb and flow of the river
itself, an unresting tide of human beings, day after day, crosses and recrosses
this grand bridge. As many as 170,000 persons and 20,000 vehicles have
been counted traversing this bridge during one day.
The Thames, at London, is also crossed by bridges in the following order;
they are all seen to advantage by going up the river in a steamboat. The first
we pass, after leaving London Bridge, is the South-Eastern Railway Bridge.






















_:_-__ -_ .___ l- ... l-'-_ _1-,.









*i- 1










-- -2-.I-== ---- _
N_7r -I T- Y
-_ --


_,- I Ii

S. .. i- i o .. ~. =.___ _








1. Tonon- Brid.e. 2. Oli I.rndon-Bri le. lnac _rraras- .ririe. ro
Railway-Bridge. Westminster-Bridge. 7. Chelea Suspcnsion-Dridg .-;I








54 BRIDGES OVER THE THAMES.
Then comes the iron Southwark Bridge built by Rennie, which has three grand
arches that are perhaps unrivalled; the centre one spanning 240 feet. 5,780
tons of iron were used in its construction; and the bridge altogether cost
800,000. The London, Chatham, and Dover Railway crosses the river at
Blackfriars. Close to its bridge is the New Blackfriars Bridge, which was.
built by Mr. Cubitt, and opened by the Queen on November 6th, 1869. It
has cast metal ornaments, polished red granite piers, massive iron arches, the
centre one spanning 185 feet, and is one of the cheapest Thames bridges, its
cost having been a little less than 400,000.
The next bridge before us is Waterloo, which competent judges have
declared to be the finest bridge in Europe. Rennie, who built it, has made it
flat from end to end. Nine beautiful arches cross the water, but there are
others running some distance under-ground on either side of the river. It
cost 1,000,000. The name, as you will guess, was given it to commemorate
the famous battle of Waterloo; and on the second anniversary of that battle,
June 18th, 1817, it was opened by the Prince Regent, accompanied by the
Duke of Wellington and a brilliant staff of officers who were present at that
great victory.
The Charing Cross Railway and Foot Bridge stands where formerly stood
Brunel's Suspension Bridge, then known as Hungerford Bridge. The latter
has been removed to Clifton, and passengers on the Great Western Railway
have a fine view of it as they pass Bristol.
Westminster Bridge occupies the place of the second bridge built in London.
The old one was opened in 1750, and the turrets, or alcoves, that were on it
may now be seen in Victoria Park, where they serve as arbours. The new
bridge is an iron one resting on granite piers, and was opened in 1862. Then
follow Lambeth, Vauxhall, Pimlico Railway, Chelsea Suspension, Cadogan or
Albert, Battersea, West London Railway, Putney, and Hammersmith Bridges.
With such an array of noble, well-built bridges Londoners should be well
satisfied. The river that rushes beneath them made the task of laying a
sure foundation a most difficult one. But the great skill of our time has
successfully accomplished it. And we have reason to believe that some of
these bridges may last as long, and may have as interesting a history to tell
future generations, as Old London Bridge.
Before Old London Bridge was removed to make way for the present
structure, the river Thames was several times frozen over; owing to the fact







FROST FAIRS ON THE RIVER. 55
that the heavy arches of the old bridge prevented the escape of the great
masses of floating ice, which, forming themselves into chains of glaciers, soon
became a solid surface. There are many memorable records of frosts on the
Thames. The earliest of which there is any account took place in 1281, at
Christmas. When the thaw came, five arches of London Bridge were carried
away by the force of the floating ice. In 1434, another severe frost occurred,
of nearly three months' duration; the river being frozen over from London to
Gravesend. In December, 1607, a frost set in, lasting until February, 1608;
and during it tents and booths were for the first time erected on the Thames,
and the scene took all the semblance of a fair.


-a _- ~~ ~ __ -. ---. _-:___ ^-- ---- ..- If






i;Cr-j
L--_1-

W TI

: U_ u-












Our first picture, copied from an old print, gives a good idea of the great
fair held on this icy plain in the winter of 1683. The ice was then so firm








56 FROST FAIRS ON THE RIVER.

that streets of booths were built on it, and a large number of shops opened
by enterprising tradesmen. The carriages you see belonged to the gentry,
who came daily for drives, the snow no doubt making the surface rough
enough for horses to walk on. The king, Charles II., paid a visit to this
fair, and had his name printed at one of the numerous printing-presses there.
The thaw began on February 4th, and the fun of the fair came to an end.
The Thames was again frozen over in 1789, when another fair was held
on it, at which a pig was roasted and a bear hunted on the ice. The thaw
came so suddenly this time as to cause much alarm to those on the river, who
rushed to the shore in order to save their lives; and booths and shops floated
away, much to the consternation of their owners.



























One of the most remarkable frosts known in England was that of the
eadIy months of 1814. Of this we have a more detailed account by a writer of
...-t t.-_ r













One of the most remarkable frosts known in England was that of the
eaxly months of 1814. Of this we have a more detailed account by a writer of








FROST FAIRS ON THE RIVER. 57

the time, than of any previous one. It was preceded by a dense fog, lasting five
days, and the falls of snow were unprecedented.
The river was frozen over from Blackfriars Bridge to London Bridge.
This thoroughfare was named the City Road, and thousands of persons
promenaded up and down it. A sheep was roasted on the ice, which spectacle
could be viewed by paying sixpence. When cooked, the meat was sold at a
shilling a slice, under the name of 'Lapland mutton.' Printing-presses were
erected, and pieces in commemoration of the frost issued. The following
is a specimen:
Behold, the river Thames is frozen o'er,
Which lately ships of mighty burden bore;
Now, different arts and pastimes here you see,
But printing claims superiority.
You that walk here, and do design to tell
Your children's children what this year befell,
Come buy this print, and it will then be seen
That such a year as this has seldom been.'

The Lord's Tr:!-r was also issued from this icy printing office. Books
labelled 'Bought on the Thames'-indeed, all sorts of things-were sold at
double and treble their real worth, because of the novelty of the thing. The
picture given on the opposite page represents the scene as the ice began to
melt, lit up by a great fire which occurred at the time. Then the waves of the
old river flowed on again in calm majesty, not soon to be disturbed by such a
frost as that year witnessed.






*h- ^ f,4- 4, /
'. ^e_^y^.





















THE GENERAL POST OFFICE-THE POST_ A.





























somebody's before you this time, Charlie. Miss Polly heard that
knock, and has run downstairs from her room, and, being a bit
get to the door first and receive the letters. But, hark! I can hear other
"L" -








THE OLD BULL AND MOUTH INN.




THE GENERAL POST OFFICEUTHE POSTiINN.

110 has not heard with pleasure the sharp, loud, firm 'rat-tat' of
lie postman P What a stir it causes in the house! Charlie flies
"lip the stairs two at a time, hoping to get the letters. All! but
'i '-' tl somebody's before you this time, Charlie. Miss Polly heard that
knock, and has run downstairs from her room, and, being a bit
of a romp, does not mind jumping the last half-dozen stairs, so that she may
get to the door first and receive the letters. But, hark! I can hear other








THE GENERAL POST OFFICE. 59

footsteps and other sounds. Yes, here is little Tommy Toddles, who has
managed to scramble up three stairs, crying, 'Me hab 'em.' Well, Polly
does not mind, and so little Tommy marches into the room quite delighted
to be the bearer of, perhaps, good news.
But I wonder whether my readers ever think of the care and trouble taken
to deliver their letters as quickly as possible. We can write to our cousins in
the country one afternoon, and the next morning the letters will be waiting
for them to read at the breakfast-table. How different it was when our grand-
fathers and their grandfathers were young! Before railways were started,
when the roads were wretchedly bad, the post was very slow. What would
my young friends in Glasgow say, if their letters from Edinburgh were more
than a week on the journey; or our boys and girls in Cornwall, if they had to
wait nine or ten days before they could possibly get an answer from London ?
The Post is a very ancient institution. We read in the Bible, in several
places, of letters being sent by posts.' Men were kept specially trained as
runners, and sometimes camels and dromedaries were used.
Posting in England, about the time of the Tudors, and for some long time
afterwards, was carried on by riders on horseback. These persons, who were
generally young lads, were termed Post-boys. Their only livery was a scarlet
jacket and waistcoat, given to them on the birthday of the reigning sovereign.
They might often be seen loitering on the way, and rarely travelled quicker
than three miles an hour; or, if sent on express business, managed to
accomplish four miles in that time. Campbell writes:
'Near Inverary we regained a spot of comparative civilization, and came
up with the postboy, whose horse was quietly grazing at some distance, whilst
redjacket himself was immersed in play with other lads.
"" You rascal! I said to him, are you the post-boy, and thus spending
your time ? "
Na, na, Sir," he answered, I 'm no the post, I 'm only an express! "'
But these postboys became the special prey of the highway robbers, who
often stopped them and ransacked their bags. In February, 1779, an advertise-
ment appeared, stating that the boy carrying the mail for Liverpool, Manchester,
Chester, and thirty other towns, besides the Irish mail, had been robbed of the
whole.
Our forefathers at length began to get tired of having their letters and
money turned into other people's hands; so the Mail Coach was started.








60 THE GENERAL POST OFFICE.

This was an improvement, though the pace of the coach was slow, and frequently
the passengers had to get out and walk. It was a still further advance when,
in 1825, they managed to get the coach along at the rate of eight miles the
hour. A well-armed guard went with each coach, and passengers were charged
a little more than sixpence per mile.
We smile when we read that there were gentlemen who, when further
improvements in the coaches were -i_-.'1et.l. said that the postal service was
almost as perfect as it could be made, and that new methods would fling the
whole correspondence of the country into confusion. I wonder if those very
positive gentlemen have lived to see our postal service.
When George Stephenson began his railway scheme, the people were so
frightened that they kept away from his strange-looking, puffing engine, and
crowded into the coaches. But when travelling by rail was found to be
quicker and easier than by coach, they began to take their seats as railway
passengers.
Soon the Post Office authorities sent their letters by rail: and then they
found it necessary to build special carriages for the conveyance of the letters
and the Post Office servants in charge, so that sorting might be carried on
during the journeys. Thus the 'travelling post office' was introduced on our
railways.
Let us take a peep at one as it is to-day. Inside, we see, it is well lighted.
Along one side are tiers of boxes, or pigeon-holes, for the letters, &c.; while
on the other side bags are h]In.ini.' with the names of different post towns
on them. While the train is rushing along at forty miles an hour, the sorters
are very busy here, arranging the letters and putting them in the bags. As
the train approaches any place, its letter-bag is tied up and sealed, and is then
put on an iron arm close to the door, ready to be caught away by a net spread
near the ground for that purpose. And the net fixed to the side of the
carriage is let down to catch the bag that is hung from an iron post fixed
in the ground. In an instant, as the train shot by, the bags have been
exchanged. And now the sorters are busy again, sorting, tying up, and
sealing; getting ready for the next post town. The bag in the ground-net
will soon be fetched away by the country postman or mail cart.
Formerly letter writing was a luxury almost confined to the rich. The
cost of postage varied according to distance and the number of written pages;
the charge was collected from the receiver. A short letter from London to



a
















-IZ
".'!1 : :"



I ..t- ..--- vY77- _
_U --

1: ir~ln

4.



;*1>











TheNe Genral Pt-Offl 2. eral Po4-fie St. arin-le-Grand. r R lad Hill.
4. Traveling Post-Office. M i C ch. 6. Accleratr. Srtin Letters The Pot-boy.
I- ..: ..i

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-~ ~~~~~~~~~ --.-. ---. :, ] -




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r I.
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1. heX -vGnea P~- OgI 2 -ea otOleS.3ari'-eGad ~wa~ ~l
I ,TaelngPs-fice .M i ;oc. 6 ,ceeavs .SrigLtes 8 lh otby








62 THE GENERAL POST OFFICE

Edinburgh cost one shilling and three halfpence; if two sheets, two shillings
and threepence. Rowland Hill set to work to obtain a cheaper rate of postage,
and after much opposition and with very little encouragement, except from
private friends, he succeeded, on January 10th, 1840, in introducing an uniform
' Penny Post.'
In 1840 only 4,028 places in the United Kingdom were open for receiving
letters; but in March, 1880, 26,753 pillar-boxes and offices could be counted.
In 1840, 168,000,000 letters were posted, and in 1880 the number amounted to
1,127,997,500!
In 1829 the General Post Office, St. Martin's-le-Grand, was completed and
occupied. But the work increased so much, that when the telegraph service
was taken in hand, it was found necessary to build the new General Post Office
opposite. This handsome building, containing nearly 200 rooms, was opened
in 1874.
If we were to look into the General Post Office while the mail-bags were
being made up, what should we see ? A very busy scene. After the letters
are all taken out of the many boxes, they are emptied on to a large table,
where they have to be 'faced,' that is, arranged tidily with the stamped face
of the envelope uppermost. Then the taxerss' take them, whose business it
is to see that the letters are not over weight. Then comes the stamping,
which is a very curious process, done by a machine that looks like the upper
part of a sewing-machine; only at the end of the arm, where the needle should
be, is the stamp which is pressed down with a handle on each letter, and makes
the post-mark on the Queen's head which prevents the stamp on the letter
from being used again as a new one.
Now they are ready for sorting, and are carried into another room, down
which run long rows of tables with shelves and little compartments or pigeon-
holes.' These rows are called roads.' All the letters for the places on the
Great Western line are put into one road, for the Great Northern into another,
and so on. When the letters are sorted, they are ready for the mail vans or
accelerators,' which you see in the picture, waiting to receive them. They
are quickly driven to the station and put into the mail train; and, after travel-
ling to their destination, are again sorted, and each postman takes those for
the houses in his district.
But the postmen's work is not over when they have delivered the morning
letters ; they have, at regular hours, to empty the pillar-boxes. Perhaps you







THE GENERAL POST OFFICE. 63

have sometimes seen the postman unlock the little door in the middle of the
pillar, take the letters out, put them in his bag, and carry them off to the
post office. Then, in most places, there are two or three deliveries in a day.
In London there are so many that the postman seems to be on his feet all day.
But in London and a few other towns the postmen have one great advantage-
there is no Sunday delivery, so that the postman has that day for rest, and can
go with his family to the house of God. This ought to be the case all over
England. The poor men who work so hard all the week should have their
Sunday free. Some good people are doing their best to increase the number
of places which give the postman a weekly rest. A little boy like you cannot
do much to help them, for you neither write nor receive many letters; but
you need never write one that would have to be delivered on Sunday; and
if your papa has his letters brought to him on that day, you might perhaps
persuade him to give up this arrangement, for every little helps.'










k--_-. .





Of course all persons are not good writers, and it often happens that
letters come with very strange addresses. One came with this, Obern Yenen;'
another, Ann M- Olleywhite.' These are taken to the Blind' man, who
is so named, not because he cannot see, but because he is sharp enough to find
out things that baffle or blind other people; his clear sight and sharp wits
soon solve the puzzle. 'Obern Yenen' he made out to be Holborn Union,
and 'Olleywhite,' Isle of Wight.
During the year 1880, 21,621 letters were posted without any address,




















H ip l









SI'I ''.











!I ,










AI I




IJ I I l I,








THE POSTMAN,







THE GENERAL POST OFFICE. 65

among which were 1,141 containing cash and bank-notes to the amount of
433, and cheques, &c., for 4,251. What a lot of careless people there must
be living amongst us, to be sure! But fancy the feelings of the postmen
who found frogs, lizards, and spiders hopping and crawling about 4,500 letters
and packets were stopped for containing such objectionable things.

Here comes THE POSTMAN through the snow, bringing us Christmas cards
and letters of love from absent dear ones. He braves the cold wind, and
trudges untiringly through the slushy streets; and though he only does his
duty, we feel that he deserves our kind consideration and hearty thanks.













"-eK1 .-c-! Y--1




















3
... -.:--_ -. -
~--- -
-- -----1^% ^^ ^*-^





















CHAPTER VII
TEMPLE BAR-THE TEMPLE-TffE NEW LAW COURTS-THE HOUSES OF
PARLIAMENT-THE GREAT CLOCK AT WESTMINSTER-ST. THOMAS'S HOSPITAL.

t the spot where that famous gate formerly stood. By its
destruction London has lost one of its notable features. Here
was the boundary line between the City of London and the Liberty
of Westminster; and at first this line was marked by a chain and
I,- i --:: -----_--=::-- _. _-__:

,-- ....-- --:'---



---=_=_:_, -:---- _:::_,






TEMPLE BA--THE TEMPLE -THE ILW OUT-HE}OUESO








TEMPLE BAR. 67

posts; but in the reign i _-__-_
of Henry III. these -
were superseded by a
large wooden gateway,
the doors of which were
always open, except
when a king or queen
was about to enter the
City. Then the Bar was i
shut before the royal
cavalcade arrived; and IN
while one herald sound-
ed a trumpet to an-
11no11ce the monarch's
approach, another
knocked at the gates 'J i
and asked leave for the ii
king to enter. Then I
the Lord Mayor opened I" :
the Bar and presented Y
the sword of the City to 'I
the royal visitor, who
was allowed to ride on
into the heart of Lon-
don. This ancient prac- 'I
tice has been kept iup
even to our own times.
Queen Victoria, when,
in 1872, she went to St. -
Paul's to return thanks TEMPLE BAR.
for the Prince of Wales' recovery from dangerous illness, had to observe
just the same ceremonies in passing through Temple Bar as Queen Elizabeth
did when the Spanish Armada had been destroyed.
The Temple Bar which till lately stood where we are standing, just by the
New Law Courts, and which our picture commemorates as it appeared in the
eighteenth century, was built in 1672, under Sir Christopher Wren's superin-







63 THE TEMfPLE.

tendence. It was ornamented by four statues-two, representing Charles I.
and Charles II., on its western side; and two, figuring Elizabeth and James
I., on its eastern or City side.
Fourteen years after its completion the Bar received the first of those
ghastly decorations by which it was to be so frequently surmounted. The
body of Sir Thomas Armstrong, who had been executed for his share hi the
Rye House Plot, having been quartered, according to the horrible custom of
the times, was exposed here on spikes specially intended for this barbarous
purpose. During the next sixty years, the passenger, gazing up at Temple
Bar, rarely failed to see, shaken by winter's storms or scorched by summer's
sun, the mutilated remains of some traitor to the State. The last heads
exposed there were those of ten Jacobite leaders in the rebellion of 1745. But
the Bar has been chosen as a fit place for exhibiting to public execration
the living as well as the dead. In front of it stood the infamous Titus Oates,.
enduring the tortures of the pillory amidst the exultations of an indignant mob.
It is a relief to turn from these revolting memories to the pleasanter
associations of the eighteenth century, when the literati of London were wont
to spend so large a portion of their time in the immediate neighbourhood of
Temple Bar. How often must Johnson, Boswell, Addison, Steele, Fielding, and
Goldsmith have passed under its shadow, on their way to and from those 'tavern
homes of mighty wits' with which old Fleet Street abounded! Crowds of
literary men of lesser note haunted the Bar between the hours of eleven and
four, when, according to Dr. Johnson, every sixth man was an author. They
are seldom to be seen,' he writes, very early in the morning or late in the
evening; but about dinner-time they are all in motion, and have one uniform
eagerness in their faces, which gives little opportunity of discovering their
hopes or fears, their pleasures or their pains. But in the afternoon, when they
have all dined, or composed themselves to pass the day without a dinner, their
passions have full play, and I can perceive one man wondering at the stupidity
of the public, by which his new book has been totally neglected; another
perusing, as he walks, his publisher's bill; another murmuring at an unanswer-
able criticism; another determining to write no more to a generation of
barbarians; and another wishing to try once again whether he cannot awaken
a drowsy world to a sense of his merit.'

But Dr. Johnson is gone, and we shall not see his burly form passing








THE TEiMPLE. 69

along in front of the Bar. And now the Bar is gone also ; so we will not stand
lamenting over it, but will pass through this 'gate-house,' which stands on the
south side of Fleet Street, and pay a visit to THE TEMPLE, the famous abode
of lawyers and literary men. This gate-house is itself an antiquity, with its
heavy red-brick front dressed with stone. It was built in 1684; so is just 200
years old. The two T.-nil1..-, the Inner and the Middle, occupy a large space
of ground between Fleet Street and the river, and comprise a great number
of houses, let off in 'chambers or floors, and occupied by barristers, students,
writers, &c. They derive their name from the Knights Templars, an Order
established in 1118 by Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, to protect pilgrims on their
road to the 'holy city.' These knights visited our land in 1128, and took up their
abode, for fifty-six years, in Holborn; and then removed to this Fleet Street
neighbourhood, where they had their quarters till the abolition of their Order
by Pope Clement V. in 1312. Since then the Temple has been the dwelling-
place chiefly of lawyers, and we shall meet not a few of them as we saunter
about their premises.
Let us peep into the Middle Temple Hall, the roof of which is said to be
the finest specimen of Elizabethan architecture in London. The Hall was
erected in 1572, and the beautiful screen which you there see, in the Renais-
sance style, was put up in 1575. The Inner Temple Hall is also a fine blildi,..
but quite modern, and stands on the site of the refectory, or refreshment
room, of the old knights. But the chief attraction is the beautiful Temple
Church-the finest of the four round churches still left in England. It was
built in 1185-700 years ago. The Knights Templars usually built round towers
to their churches, in imitation of the Temple at Jerusalem. On the pavement
in the Round we find two groups of effigies of knights in armour, with legs
crossed in token that they had been Crusaders; and there are several other
monuments of much interest and of great antiquity. The organ, built by a famous
organ-maker, Father' Smith, in the reign of Charles II., is one of the finest
and sweetest that can be heard anywhere; and the Sunday services are always
remarkable for the beauty of the music.

Now let us sally forth, through Fountain Court, into the Temple Gardens;
passing the modest Fountain, of which L. E. L. sang:
'The fountain's low singing is heard on the wind,
Like a melody, bringing sweet fancies to mind-








70 THE TEMPLE.

Some to grieve, some to gladden: around them they cast
The hopes of the morrow, the dreams of the past.
Away in the distance is heard the vast sound
From the streets of the city that compass it round,
Like the echo of fountains, or ocean's deep call ;
Yet that fountain's low singing is heard over all.'
The Temple Gardens present a nice breathing place for the children, and
older persons too, who have to live in the noisy, bustling City. Here they can
run about, and admire the flowers, or sit and enjoy the breeze from the river.
Fifty years or so ago the garden was famous for its red and white roses; and
so it appears to have been in Shakespeare's time; for the roses seem to have
caught his observant eye, and he takes this garden as the scene in which
Plantagenet plucked the white rose, and Somerset the red, as symbols of their
respective parties-flowers which became of such fatal meaning in the Wars of
the Roses. 'Since,' cries Plantagenet-
'Since you are tongue-tied, and so loth to speak,
In dumb significance proclaim your thoughts.
Let him that is a true-born gentleman,
And stands upon the honour of his birth,
If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,
From off this brier pluck a white rose with me.'
And Somerset, in reply to the challenge, cries:
'Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer,
But dare maintain the party of the truth,
Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.'

Well, there are plenty of flowers still in the Temple Gardens; but you and
I will neither pluck them, nor indulge in strife with tongue or hand.
We must not leave the halls and lanes and courts without noticing the
sun-dials which still remain as relics of the olden time. No doubt they were
very useful in the days when watches were scarce-that is, supposing that the
sun shone every day in those times. Most of them have mottoes. One in
Essex Court has the appropriate Latin words: Vestigia nulla retrorsurm; which
may be translated, very freely, as meaning that if once you enter upon a law-
suit, you cannot retrace your steps; there is no backing out of it. Thanks
for the warning! In Brick Court, where Oliver Goldsmith lived and died,
there is a dial with a motto which, one may suppose, must often have caught the
eye of that erratic genius, and perhaps reminded him of work unfinished : Time





























- - -


















































THE NEW LAW COURTS.








72 THE NEW LAW COURTS.

and tide wait for no man.' On a dial in Pump Court appears the appropriate
sentiment: 'Shadows we are and like shadows depart.' But perhaps the
most striking motto was one which adorned the dial on an old house at the
east end of Inner Temple Terrace, now pulled down, to this effect: Begone
about your business : words which we might suppose to have been addressed
to a client who had paid his fees, but which are said to have been shouted by
an old bencher' to a tiresome lad who had come from the dial-maker's for a
motto, and who thought he had here got what he wanted.

From the quiet of the Temple we will emerge into the noise of Fleet
Street, and, by taking a few careful steps, arrive at THE NEW LAW COURTS.
This splendid building, which we find on our right hand as we go westward
from the City, forms an irregular square; its front towards the Strand being
four hundred and eighty-four feet in length, while the depth from the
Strand to Carey Street is four hundred and seventy feet. The southern,
northern, and western fronts are of Portland stone, but the eastern has red
bricks interspersed with the stone, as also have the interior courts and
quadrangles. Each front is relieved by dwarf towers, arches, and other
features; and there are two high towers, one at the south-east angle, and one
at the eastern end of Carey Street, the former of which is one hundred and
seventy feet in height, or nearly four times the height of old Temple Bar.
The general height of this great building is about ninety-five feet; and
above its main or western block towers the large Central Hall, which from
its base to the top of its roof measures one hundred and forty feet. The
architect's plan has given accommodation to no less than eighteen distinct
courts of law, each with its own entrance and staircase, and separate approaches
and doors for the judges, the jury, the witnesses, the bar, and the public,
together with rooms for clerks, secretaries, and registrars; and also waiting-
rooms. These last, I should think, are really needful apartments ; for we most
of us know what a very tedious affair a lawsuit generally is.
The first brick of this National Palace of Justice was laid, on the last
day of April, 1874, at the junction of Bell Yard and Carey Street; and the
complete buildings were opened by Her Majesty on December 4th, 1882. It was
a grand sight. Every house in the Strand was gaily decorated ; and as the
Queen and her retinue passed along, the bells of the churches rang merrily,
and the crowd of spectators cheered long and lustily. When Her Majesty








THLI HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT. 73

arrived at the Central Hall, a procession was formed; and first went the
builders, Messrs. Edward and Henry Bull, and the architect, Mr. Street;
next came the Attorney General and the Solicitor General, in their best wigs
and gowns; then the Judges, the Lord Chancellor being the hindmost; next
various officials and Mr. Gladstone; and then the Queen, followed by her sons
and daughters; the royal attendants bringing up the rear. Her Majesty
proceeded to the throne which had been placed on a dais, or raised floor; and,
after the key of the building had been presented to her, and then transferred
to the keeping of the Lord Chancellor, she read a short address, in which she
expressed her trust that the uniting together of the various branches of
judicature in this the supreme court would conduce to the more efficient and
speedy discharge of justice to her subjects; and that the learning and inde-
pendence of her judges would prove in the future, as in time past, the chief
security of the rights of her crown and the liberties of her people. The
Lord Chancellor replied ; the Archbishop of York offered up a special prayer;
and then Sir William Harcourt, by the Queen's direction, declared the building
opened, and the state trumpeters gave a flourish of trumpets to mark the
event.
Well, it is a fine palace, and there are generally plenty of clever men
speechifying in its various courts; but I think you will agree with me that it is
best to have as little to do with lawsuits as possible, however grand the apart-
ments in which they may be heard.

Leaving the New Law Courts, and making our way once more towards West-
minster Bridge, we come to the grand pile of buildings which contains the two
HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT and all their belongings, and which, when seen from
the river or the bridge, presents a very striking appearance. The buildings,
though no longer new, are quite modern, and replace the old and inconvenient
rooms in which the Lords and Commons used to sit and debate. It ivas on the
evening of October 16th, 1834, that sheets of flame were seen to rise just
behind Westminster Hall, and the news soon spread all over London that
the Houses of Parliament were on fire. I scarcely need tell you that an
immense crowd speedily assembled at Westminster. The bridge was all alive
with spectators, some of whom even ventured to stand on the narrow ledge
outside the parapets and next the water. Quickly the engines arrived, and
water began to combat fire. The battle raged for many hours, and it was









74 THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT.
feared that Westminster Hall, so venerable and so rich in historic memories,
would fall a victim to the audacious flames. But as morning dawned, the










.I 1Jj1 %.,
Lf !lI -_ I...


"i IF






-" / --l. -, ---', --, i! ,








WESTMINSTEr HAL.

ancient Hall was found still standing. The old House of Commons-' St.
Stephen's (',. p,"'--was utterly destroyed, whilst the old House of Lords,
,, .,ilj it, ih n sp rcd.

What was to be done? The members, of Parliament must have >'o:nc
)lace to meet in. So the Lords were put for a time into another ancient
room-the Painted Chamber-and their House was assigned to the Commons,
till a new palace for both of them should be built. Accordingly Sir Chli.l. *
Barry was employed to design and build the needful Houses ; and after the
Bar~ry wa~s emlploy-ed to design and build the needful Houses ; and after the








THE HO USES OF PARLIAMENT. 75

lapse of several years this noble structure was completed. The front towards
the river and that towards the land are splendid pieces of architecture; and
the Victoria Tower, rising high above the southern end of the land front,
seems like the main shaft oi' some gigantic cathedral built by the mighty men
of old; whilst at the northern end, next the bridge, rises the lofty Clock Tower;
to which we will presently pay a visit.
This immense pile of buildings is so well proportioned in its various details
that we do not at first realize how great its bulk really is. It actually covers
nearly eight acres of ground. It has eleven hundred rooms, one hundred
staircases, and more than three miles of corridors, or passages Its river
front is nine hundred feet long, and is decorated with the statues and arms
of the kings and queens of England from the Conquest to our own days.
The Victoria Tower is seventy-five feet square, and rises to the height of
three hundred and forty feet.
These new Houses take intotheir precincts old Westminster Hall, and
the crypt of St. Stephen's Chapel-an ancient cellar, or vault, which has been
brightened and decorated, and is fitted up as a chapel, for the use of mem-
bers of Parliament. Passing through the fine old Hall, with its marvellous
roof, we come to the Central Octagon Hall-a grand apartment, eighty feet
high-from which the right hand passage will take us to the 'Lords,' and the
left to the 'Commons.' The House of Peers is a noble room, magnificently
fitted up, having eighteen niches for statues of the Magna Charta barons,
and twelve windows of stained glass, which at night are lighted from the
outside. Amongst the notable things in this apartment are, the throne on
which the Queen sits when she opens Parliament, the chair for the Prince of
Wales, and the 'woolsack' for the Lord Chancellor; the large frescoes, or
pictures painted on the walls themselves; and the Reporters' and Strangers'
Galleries. The House of Commons is not so highly adorned as the Lords',
but it is also very beautiful. Its windows are of stained glass, and its walls
are lined with carved oak.
Tllw royal entrance is under the Victoria Tower, and 1,ads to the No-man
Porch : then on the right hand is the Queen's Robing Room, ornamented with
frescoes representing (imaginary) scenes in the life of King Arthur. Thence
we pass along a grand room, lofty, wide, and long-the Victoria Gallery, the
ceiling of which is richly gilt and emblazoned, while its windows are of stained
glass, and its walls are decorated with frescoes depicting scenes in English








76 THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT.

history. One of the largest shows us the meeting of Welligton and Bliacher
after the battle of Waterloo ; and on the opposite side is a painting of the death
of Nelson : both pictures of intense interest, and not easily forgotten
We will now pass on to one of the most remarkable portions of this
wonderful block of grand buildings. The CLOCK TOWER was, as its name
imports, mainly built for the purpose of supporting the great clock and its
monster set of bells; and since the machinery for measuring time was first
invented, no clock-case so large and elaborate has yet been contrived. Its
whole height is divided into nine storeys, exclusive of the clock-room, bell-
chamber, and lantern. Each of these floors is divided into at least four, and
sometimes many more apartments, which run parallel with each of the four
faces of the [tower. The inside of the tower (within these rooms) is twenty-
eight feet square, and is occupied first by an air-shaft, eight feet wide, for
ventilating the whole of the Houses of Parliament, and which rises to the
very top; and secondly, by the clock-shaft, a small inner tower of brickwork.
This latter is the shaft on which the great clock stands, and down which its
weights descend. It is one hundred and sixty feet high, eleven feet long by
eight feet six inches wide, and its wall is twenty inches thick. This space was
only just enough to admit of Big Ben getting to the top of the tower : he
had to go up sideways, for he is nine and a half feet in diameter and seven
feet ten inches high. The lower floors of the tower are ordinary offices.
Access to the upper parts of the tower is gained by a spiral staircase,
which is of a great length. For the first hundred steps or so, the way is
lit with gas, and the air is close and oppressive. With the next hundred you
emerge into the dim daylight, which now and then one of the sixty-eight
windows that adorn the tower throws across the staircase. A hundred steps
more, and the way is dark again, and you instinctively feel you have attained
a great height, and walk with nervous caution, or look -11.ld.I;rhly over the
rails down the well-stairs, which seem to end in a faint bluish light, dimly
seen far beneath. Another effort, and sorely out of breath-for you have
climbed three hundred and thirty steps in all-you are in the clock-room.
It is a lofty, dark chamber-twenty-eight feet by nineteen, and some twenty-
five feet high.
If the whole apparatus of the great clock were made to be wound by
hand, it would require four or five hours' continuous winding each day; and
even then would cause such hard labour as would be too much almost foi














S'I ,,u" II -i iIIII i '


I ''g 1i i

UP II I ',





'i !i ,






I'l




JIllI'I I































MEETING OF WELLINGTON AND BLUCHER.
-W,:


METNGO WLIGTNAN LUHR








78 THE CLOCK TO WER.
convicts; the handle would have to be turned some four or five thousand times,
and weights of many tons drawn up to a height of one hundred and fifty-six
feet. It is, therefore, wound up by water, by means of a self-acting machine.
Every dial-frame-and there are four of them-weighs four tons, and is
twenty-two feet six inches in diameter. The space between each minute-mark
on the face is one foot two inches ; the figures are upwards of two feet high,
and nearly six feet apart. The minute-hand is sixteen feet long, and notwith-
standing that it is made of copper beaten out as thin as is consistent with its
length and strength, it still weighs two hundredweight. The hour-hand is
nine feet long, and is fastened with the minute-hand to the centre of the dial
by a huge gilt rose, (part of the arms of Westminster,) which is about the
size of a small table. All the spaces between the figures and work on the
clock-face are glazed with enamelled glass, so as to present the appearance
of a white dial in the day, and allow it to be illuminated during the night.
Each dial is lit with sixty gas jets, which are turned on and off by a peculiar
adaptation of the clock-work. The cost of the gas for this is 500 per annum.
The single-dial clock at Mechlin, in Belgium, is larger than these dials, but
for a four-dialled clock there is none in the world with such large faces. St.
Paul's clock has only two seventeen feet dials, and is wound up every day; and
next to this, the largest clock in the United [.. ,dom is that of Shandon
Church, at Cork, which has four dials, each sixteen feet in diameter.
Leaving the dial-rooms, we again ascend that wearisome staircase, till at
last it terminates in the bright sunlight, more than two hundred feet above the
streets, amid light handsome arches, with the outside Gothic work of hammered
iron, all richly gilded. This is the bell-chamber, where the iron tongues of
the clock below are placed. The mechanism by which 'Big Ben' and his
chiming smaller bells are suspended is simple, yet beautifully adapted to its
purpose. The whole apparatus only weighs some fourteen tons ; yet it is no
exaggeration to say that it is almost strong enough to bear the whole tower.
The actual weight of the five bells it supports, with their hammers, is upwards
of thirty tons. Big Ben' hangs in the centre of a beam called the 'collar,'
and weighs sixteen tons. His thundering note is E natural. The hammer
and lever which strike the note weigh together one ton.
So much for the bell-chamber and its hard, gloomy inmates. They are
fixed in their places, and can never ring a joyful peal, but only mark the passage
of the fleeting hours, or be tolled slowly for some great calamity, which shall







THE CLOCK TO WER. ;9

bow our heads in mourning. From the bell-chamber the works go higher
still, but the stairs cease, and the lofty points beyond are only to be gained
by mounting ladders, which are raised from one perilous scaffolding to another.
Slowly the visitor climbs, creeping from ladder to ladder, catching through
small openings now and then a dizzy glimpse of roofs and tops of lofty
buildings, with the mighty city, half hidden in its smoke, spread like a map













I












THE CLOCK TOWER.

far down beneath him. A short ladder leads from this place to the lantern
gallery, where you seem suddenly to enter fairy-land, and are dazzled with the
brilliancy of gold and colour around. You are now high over the clock, and
beneath the pointed roof. The work which from below seemed such light
-A


_-_ _


-_:3Ji














tracery and network of golden lines, is suddenly transformed to beams, shields,
and flying arches, so massive in themselves as almost to form another tower,







80 ST. THOMAS'S HOSPITAL.

and so thickly gilded that they seem as if wrought from the solid precious
metal. Higher than this lantern-gallery the visitor cannot go, though the
pointed roof is still one hundred feet above him, and, light and graceful as it
appears from the ground, yet it nevertheless actually contains four hundred
tons of iron !
Once again upon the ground, the great Clock Tower seems to us more
lofty and magnificent than ever. It is merely one ornamental portion of our
Houses of Parliament, but if it stood alone it would still be a grand monument
of taste and skill.

On the opposite side of the Thames, the Embankment is continued on the
Surrey shore up the river, as far as Vauxhall Bridge, giving a Parisian aspect
to the whole scene. But what are these ?' a stranger is sure to ask, as he
points to a number of new buildings, extending from the Surrey end of West-
minster Bridge for several hundred yards along the Embankment, and directly
facing the Houses of Parliament. These buildings, I reply, are the new ST.
THOMAS'S HOSPITAL; and here one of the oldest medical charities of London,
after having been dislodged from its ancient residence near London Bridge,
has found a new and costly home.
The hospitals of London form an important part of its benevolent institu-
tions. Some of them-as St. Luke's and Bethlehem (better known as Bedlam)
-are for the insane. Others are for aged pensioners who have served their
country in the army or navy. At that of Chelsea many an old soldier still
' shoulders his crutch, and shows how fields were won.' But at Greenwich
the venerable Jack Tars, who spun long yarns by the banks of the Thames,
have been 'improved' out of the place. The larger number of London hospitals,
however, are for the sick and hurt. In addition to the smaller ones, supported
mainly by voluntary contributions, such as Charing Cross, King's College, and
University College Hospitals, there are the large institutions of this kind with
considerable endowments belonging to them. As deserving of special notice
may be mentioned St. Bartholomew's Hospital, which was founded by Rahere,
the king's minstrel, in the year 1102, and re-founded by Henry VIII. in 1546 ;
Guy's Hospital, founded by Thomas Guy, a London bookseller, in 1721; and
St. Thomas's Hospital, which is the subject of this sketch.
The date given for the foundation of this noble charity for the reception
of the necessitous sick and injured is A.D. 1553. It was in that year that King








ST. TIIOlL4S'S HOSPITAL. St

Edward VI. incorporated a society of persons for its government. Still it had
an existence before it received a royal charter. It had its origin really as
early as the year 1215, when Peter de Rupibus, Bishop of Wini,:ll.:.t i\, erected
a building, as a kind of hospital, dedicated it to St. Tliii.i.m the Apostle, and
endowed it with certain lands, in connection with a priory in Southwark. In
1428 one of the abbots granted the foundation lands to Nicholas Buckland,
master of the hospital; and so they remained until 'Bluff Harry turned the
cowls adrift at the dissolution of the monasteries. During the reign of his
son Edward VI. the corporation of London purchased the manor of Southwark
from the King, St. Thomas's Hospital being part of the purchase. The city
immediately repaired and enlarged it, and the young King granted the charter
of incorporation already referred to.
Since its foundation, St. Thomas's Hospital has had its I .- ;tl.l.-. By
the great fire of London, much of its house property was destroyed, and the
charity would have been completely ruined, only that the governors and citizens
came to the rescue with large and liberal contributions. In consequence of
the help thus afforded, the hospital was considerably enlarged in the reign of
William III. The last great change is that which has removed the locale of
the institution from the old site near London Bridge, which it occupied for
several centuries, to the new buildings near Westminster Bridge. The change
was not altogether the result of choice on the part of the governors, but has
been necessitated by the exigencies of this railway age. The plain story is
this:-The directors of the South-Eastern Railway Company wished to carry
their line across the Thames to Cannon Street. In order to this, they required
a part of the hospital premises; but the directors, judging that giving up a
part would spoil the remainder, compelled the company to take the whole.
With the purchase money, which amounted to nearly 400,000, they have
erected the new buildings. In the interim, between the pulling down of the
old hospital and the opening of the new, the institution took refuge in the
Surrey Music Hall.
St. Thomas's Hospital has had its share of royal favour. Edward VI.
is recognized as the founder; and now Queen Victoria appears as its patroness
and friend in connection with the new buildings. On the 13th of September,
1868, Her Majesty, accompanied by the Prince of Wales, and other members
of the royal family, laid the foundation-stone at Stangate, Lambeth, with a
golden trowel. It was, therefore, only in harmony with all this that the noble
7








82 ST. THOMAS'S HOSPITAL

chain of buildings known as 'the new St. Thomas's Hospital' was opened for
the reception of patients by England's Queen in 1871, and received at its in-
augural ceremonial the benediction of English Christianity.
Nearly half of the site of this noble hospital has been reclaimed from the
mud of the river. Its buildings have a frontage of about seventeen hundred
feet, and are about two hundred and fifty feet in depth. They consist of no
less than eight large blocks, or pavilions,' and are joined together by a double
corridor. The entrance hall, facing Lambeth Palace Road, contains a statue
of the Queen, represented as seated on a chair of state, in her full robes.
The hospital can make up no less than six hundred and fifty beds for patients;
and you will have some idea of its immense size, when I tell you that, including
wards, houses, out-offices, kitchens, sculleries, stores, and cellars, it contains
nearly a thousand distinct compartments !









__- -.-




I U
.----- -
V _,.-,k-....____

















THE BOOK GALLERIES, BRITISH MUSEUM.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE BRITISH MUSEUM-THE NATIONAL GALLERY.
I I T nIext walk shall be to the BRITISH MUSEUM, a building which
"", i.r young friends may truly say belongs to them. For though
iu are young and small, you are members of the great British
*.u-tion, that owns this wonderful -Mi[-.iim. The Museum owes
its origin to the fact that Sir Hans Sloane, who during his life-
time had gathered together a very large and valuable collection of natural
history specimens and works of art, besides a considerable library of books,
which had cost him in all fifty thousand pounds, offered these, in the terms of








S4 ITHE BRITISH MUSEUM.I

his will, to the Government, on condition that twenty thousand pounds should
be paid to his family. This offer was accepted; and the whole, with the books
and manuscripts of Sir John Cotton and Robert Harley, were arranged
together in Montague House. The new institution, thenceforth called 'the
British Museum,' was opened in 1759.
From that time purchases and gifts succeeded each other rapidly; and
riches poured in from all quarters, gradually filling up all the space. On
receipt of the magnificent gift from George IV. of his father's extensive library,
the authorities decided to pull down old Montague House and erect one much
larger-the present building, which was completed in 1847.
The appearance of the front is very imposing, impressing one with the
idea that the architect, Sir Robert Smirke, meant the structure to last for
many generations.
The rooms on the ground floor to our right are the Grenville Library,
Manuscript Room, and King's Library. To our left are the Sculpture Galleries,
Roman, Greco-Roman, Greek, Mausoleum, Elgin, Hellenic, Kouyunjik, Nim-
roud, Assyrian, and Egyptian rooms. Ascending the principal staircase, the
rooms in front of us are the Southern, Eastern, and Northern Zoological
galleries-now to be appropriated to other purposes-the Egyptian, Vase,
Bronze, British and Medieval, Ornament, and Ethnographical rooms.
Now, I think, you will agree with me, that with the contents of so many
rooms to look at, one visit is not enough. Any one who only gives this Museum
a hasty visit, in which he tries to see the whole, will most likely go away with a
terrible mixture of statues and stuffed monkeys, birds' nests and mummies, &c.,
in his mind, and without a clear idea of any one object.
We will begin with the Library department. Here is a fine large circular
reading-room, containing nearly a million and a half of books. A copy of the
best edition of every book published in the United Kingdom is sent to this
library, but, of course, only a comparatively small number can be exposed to
view. Multitudes of volumes are stowed away in the cellars. Passing through
the door on the right of the Entrance Hall, we enter the Grenville Library.
What rare old books are kept here Look at those in the cases around the
wall. In the table cases we see the Block-books,' or books printed from wood-
blocks, which were used before the invention of printing with movable metal type.
How very interesting is this next room! for here are stored the hand-
writings of many of our kings and celebrated persons of whom we read in












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SElin.Room. (Looking.South.) 6 Colossal..ead Ra.-in.eses II, 7 iC g'a library








86 THE BRITISH MUSEUlM.

history. There is one specimen which I want you to look at particularly. It
was written by William, Duke of Cumberland, when he was only six years old.
I think you will say it is excellent. Here we see the handwriting of Edward
VI., Elizabeth, Anne Boleyn, Mary Queen of Scots, Lady Jane Grey; and in
another case, autographs of Milton, Locke, Johnson, Burns, and Scott. How
interesting to boys is this sketch plan of the battle of Aboukir, drawn by Lord
Nelson! In another case, amongst the letters of eminent men, we linger over
those of Luther, Wolsey, Cranmer, Raleigh, Wren, Wilkie, Handel, and Charles
Dickens. Here, too, is the unfinished letter written by Nelson on the eve of
the battle of Trafalgar. A complete set of impressions of the Great Seals of
English sovereigns, from Edward the Confessor to Queen Victoria, is kept in
this room.
Satisfying ourselves with these peeps into past ages, we pass on to the
King's Library, a special room built to contain the books which belonged to
George III. The whole space above and below the gallery is occupied by book-
cases. Here we come face to face with the first efforts of that wonderful
power, the printing-press, and can gaze on the earliest complete printed
book known, the Mazarin Bible, so called because the copy which first attracted
attention was found in the library of Cardinal Mazarin. Early specimens of
printing from Germany, Italy, France, and England are here; and amongst the
latter are books printed by William Caxton, the first English printer. On the
screens are views of old and new London; and in cases are various medals.
Turning to the left, we enter the Roman Gallery of Sculptures. The pieces
of tesselated pavement which we see here were long ages ago trodden by the
Roman conquerors of the Britons, and were discovered in London and else-
where. These sculptures are more generally known as the Townley Marbles,
and are the work of men who lived many centuries ago. As we pass through
the galleries, we shall notice groups of students engaged in carefully copying
some of the statues. In the third Graeco-Roman room our attention is at once
attracted to the remains of the famous Mausoleum, which so greatly excelled
all other sepulchral monuments in size, beauty of design, and richness of
decoration, that it was reckoned one of the seven wonders of the ancient world.
The fragments of the colossal horses, lions, and other sculptures, give some
idea of its immense size.
Passing on to the Assyrian antiquities, we come to remains from Kouyun-
jik, which is supposed to be built on the spot where Nineveh once stood.







THE BRITISH MUSEUM. 87

Many of the slabs, &c., were taken from the palace of Sennacherib, and some
were found split and shattered by fire, the palace having been burnt, probably
at the destruction of Nineveh. All my young friends who study their Bibles
will be much interested in the fragments of tablets giving accounts of the
Creation, Deluge, and Tower of Babel; and in the seals and engraved stones
bearing the names of Nebuchadnezzar, Sennacherib, and one with the words, I
am Darius, the Great King.' In the Egyptian rooms, we are struck with
wonder in gazing at the gigantic heads of their gods and heroes. What an
amount of time and patience must have been expended on them; and on this
enormous dark granite sacred beetle, and the sarcophagi and mummy tombs,
each covered with hieroglyphics The key to the language of the inscriptions
was furnished by the Rosetta Stone, which is here-a thick black slab, with
three inscriptions cut into its smooth upper surface; one in Egyptian hiero-
glyphics, one in the ancient spoken language of Egypt, and one in Greek.
Many of these remains date from a period as far back as 2000 years B.c., and
fell into the hands of the British army at the capitulation of Alexandria. But
we have seen enough for one visit.

Taking our way to the north-west corner, where we finished our last visit,
we will now ascend the staircase, and half-way up we shall obtain a good view
of the monster head of Rameses II. We will turn into the rooms on our right,
where are placed the smaller Egyptian remains. Here are the embalmed
bodies of their sacred cats, birds, fish, and reptiles; small figures of bronze,
silver, and gold; personal ornaments and articles of dress, implements for
domestic use: all showing the high civilization and luxury to which this people
had attained. Here, too, we are struck with wonder at the sight of mummies
who were alive as far back as the time when Moses and the Israelites were
in Egypt.
What a splendid collection of glass is in the next room! We linger over
it, delighted with the patterns and brilliant colours. As we proceed, we notice
the vases, terra-cottas, mural paintings, and bronzes, of Greek and Roman
workmanship. The stone celts, daggers, swords, and pottery carry our
thoughts back to the rough inhabitants of the British Isles before the Roman
invasion. Personal ornaments and drinking cups represent the Anglo-Saxon
period. In a separate room, amongst a collection of ancient and modern
jewellery, is the noted Portland Vase.








SS THE BRITISH MUSE. :

The next room is crowded with curiosities: the Lsqunnaux, eNow
Zealander, and other foreigners are represented by implements of labour,
warlike weapons, and instruments of music. Bows and arrows, canoes,
harpoons, and tomahawks are ranged around. Here is a feather head-dress,
a suit of armour made of cocoa-nut fibre, a Chinese bronze bell, an inlaid
Indian cabinet. In the centre of the room, in a case, are objects illustrative
of Arctic Expeditions, giving us sorAe idea of the enormous difficulties which
the brave fellows have to fight against in the extreme North.
We will now visit-for the last time in this building-the Zoological
Galleries, which we reach by mounting the grand staircase. The rhinoceros
here must have had a fierce battle for his life, judging by the number of bullet-
holes in his thick skin. Yonder is a fine walrus. Whilst gazing about, we
catch sight of the small-eyed, formidable hippopotamus, the graceful deer and
antelope, and the gentle, soft blue-eyed gazelle. In the next room are the
eland, llama, and that bulky but useful elk. Our friends from the Isle of
Wight will be glad to see the magnificent basking-shark which was caught
near Shanklin in 1875. And here is a musk-ox, killed during the last Arctic
expedition ; and there the armadillo, covered with coated mail. Look at this
skeleton of the whale, and at the narwhal, whose tusk was very highly valued for
its ivory, and in former times was believed to be the horn of the unicorn. Here
are monkeys of all kinds, hyenas, bears, and lions, and an array of others that
would take no little time to enumerate. There is also a fine collection of corals.
Our next turn brings us to the magnificent collection of birds, shells, and
eggs. Stuffed birds of all sizes, colours, and qualities; sweet singing, harsh
screeching, perching, climbing, slender and hard-beaked birds ; birds of prey;
birds incapable of flying, but noted for their powers of running; and the
web-footed family. Amongst them we recognize many familiar friends, and
are pleased to make acquaintance with those that are strangers. They are a
goodly company, and a fine feast for your eyes when you visit them. We turn
to the table-cases to see their eggs, and then from one path of beauty pass on
to another. The shells claim attention. Ah! we could linger around these
cases, admiring their exquisite contents. The shells differ as much in size as
in colour, and in shape as in size.
In the northern gallery we see the turtles and tortoises, toads and frogs,
lizards and crocodiles, snakes and serpents, sea ,*.-. and starfish, butterflies
and moths, wasps and their nests, beetles and spiders, fishes and crabs, and








THE NATIONAL GALLERY. 89

the ingenious nests of the tailor-birds. Nor must we omit to look at the
giant land tortoise at the entrance to this gallery, which is known to have
been eighty years of age, and weighed eight hundred and seventy pounds.
We will now say good-bye to this beautiful collection of objects of natural
history; promising ourselves the pleasure of seeing it all again, re-arranged
and with plenty of room, in its new house at South Kensington.
And so we come out of this wonderful building into the open air again,
thankful to have seen so many marvellous illustrations of God's creative power,
and of man's skill and ingenuity.

I dare say some of my young friends are fond of drawing. Not drawing
carts and barrows ; that we will leave to our four-footed friends ; but taking
the pencil or brush, and with it making a sketch of some object we see. Of
course those young people-indeed, all of you, I hope-will be glad to have a
peep at the paintings of our great artists. But we must hurry on, for our(
artist has been there already, and has furnished us with leaves from his sketch-
book, or some thumb-nail sketches of a few of these paintings.
Very few buildings occupy such a fine position as this NATIONAL GALLERY
of paintings. It faces the north side of Trafalgar Square, which, with its
noble Nelson's monument and sparkling fountains, forms a pretty, open
frontispiece from which to view the building. The style of the architecture
does not satisfy everybody, and some one has humorously given the name of
'pepper-casters' to the three domes which rise from it. It has, however, a
noble portico in the centre.
A 3Ir. Angerstein, who was a very rich gentleman and also a passionate
admirer of art, during his lifetime bought with an unsparing hand the paintings
of the great masters. These pictures after his death were purchased by the
British Government, and thus the foundation of the National Gallery of
pictures was laid. Liberal gifts from generous donors, amongst whom we
may especially mention Mr. Vernon, together with purchases by Government,
have swelled the Gallery to its now splendid condition.
As the bee in gathering pollen only alights on one particular class of
flowers in one journey, so we intend to act during our visit here. I shall ask
you to follow me to those pictures in which you young people are sure to
delight. When I refer to numbers, the picture, or part of it, will be seen
amongst our artist's sketches.








90 THE NATIONAL GALLERY.

I am now opposite a picture (No. 1) by that great friend of animals, Sir
Edwin Landseer. The scene is inside a smithy; the smith is engaged in
shoeing a valuable bay mare. Judging by the expression of the animal's eye,
the process must be a painful one; but the farrier, we hope, is a skilful
workman, and will not hurt more than is necessary the horse's tender hoof.
The horse's head is not held, and the story goes that this horse, which was
lent to the artist when he was in weak health and recommended horse exercise,
would only consent to be shod if accompanied by two personal friends, a donkey
and a dog, and then his head was allowed to remain loose. In the next picture
(No. 2) Landseer had in his mind's eye the well known anecdote of the visit
of Alexander the Great to the philosopher Diogenes; when the great
conqueror opened conversation with, 'I am Alexander the Great,' to which
the other replied, 'And I am Diogenes the Cynic.' When asked in what way
Alexander could best serve him, Diogenes rejoined, 'You can stand out of my
sunshine.' So this dog seems to say to the haughty one standing in front of
his tub: 'You can best serve me by standing out of the sunshine.' No. 3 is
a dog living in low life, its companion being one living in high life. What a
noble-looking fellow this bloodhound is in No. 4 He sits in his kennel calm
and serene. He looks so good-tempered that we almost want to pat him and
play with him; but not so the snarling little Scotch terrier, who with the
coolest impudence has taken up his position alongside the hound. He
is conscious that to our eyes he looks small and insignificant: he knows
we shower praises on his companion, calling him, 'noble fellow,' &c., and that
we should scarcely notice him. So with growling and barking he tries to
look formidable. But it won't do, Master Impudence ; with all your noise and
fuss, you can't make us call you 'noble dog.'
Look at this laughing 'Spanish Peasant Boy (No. 5), by Murillo. His lot
is hard, his clothing scanty ; but with all the hardness of life his heart is light,
as we may see by his smiling face. St. John and the Lamb' (No 6) is another
by the same artist. Ah! I thought you would like to see the next one
(No. 7), by Sir Joshua Reynolds : Little Samuel at Prayer; we all know the
story by heart. As we look at this picture, we think that God would have us
come to Him in prayer, loving Him for His love to us, and ready, too, to listen
to His voice. 'The Blind Fiddler' (No. 8), by Wilkie, calls out our sympathy.
The blind man depends on his fiddle for his living, and is deftly plying the bow
with this family group for audience. Father has caught the inspiring strain,





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