the chapel, representing the whole history of man from the Creation to the Day of Judgment. The windows being divided into three parts, those on the side contained the types in the Old Testament, and the middle portion the anti-type and verity in the New. Laud, on coming to Lambeth, found the windows "shameful to look on, all diversly patched, like a poor beggar's coat,”—and repaired them. This circumstance, it appears, was produced against him at his trial, his accusers alleging "that he did repair the story of those windows by their like in the Mass-book." The Archbishop, in denial, affirmed that he and his secretary had made out the story as well as they could by the remains that were unbroken. In the course of a few years these beautiful windows were all defaced by the Puritans. There was an organ in the chapel in Archbishop Parker's time, and in Laud's. The great memory of the chapel is its connexion with Archbishop Parker, who was consecrated here, Miles Coverdale assisting, and who, dying, directed his remains to be buried in it. A friend wrote a very favourable epitaph whilst the primate was yet alive, and showed it to him. The Archbishop's reply was very happy. He could not, he said, assume the description of such a character to himself, but he would so make use of it as to attain as far as possible the good qualities and virtues it specified. In 1648 the monument with this inscription was taken away; for, Lambeth House then coming into the possession of Colonel Scot, he, wanting to turn the chapel into a hall or dancing-room, found this monument in his way, and so demolished it. Nor was that all. With the fanaticism which all the religious parties of the day exhibited in their conduct towards each other, Matthew Hardyng, a Puritan (and Archbishop Parker had been no friend to the Puritans), caused his body to be dug up, stripped of its leaden covering, which was sold, and the venerable remains to be buried in a dunghill, where they remained till after the Restoration Sir William Dugdale had the honour of procuring their restoration. He heard of the matter accidentally, and immediately repaired to Archbishop Sancroft, by whose diligence, aided by an order from the House of Lords, the bones were found and again buried in the chapel. A stone, with the following inscription (translated from the Latin original), now marks the place: "The body of Matthew (Parker), Archbishop, here rests at last." Sancroft also caused the monument to be again erected to his memory, with a long inscription, in the part of the chapel divided from the rest by the screen. From the chapel we pass through a very fine and very ancient gateway into the Post-room. We do not anywhere find the idea thrown out that this gateway, with the large window above, now partly filled up, as shown in our drawing, formed in all probability an exterior front to the chapel long before the building of the Lollards' Tower; yet such no doubt was the case. Of the origin or purpose of the Post-room, which derives its name from a stout pillar in the centre, we can gather no information from the local historians. It forms the lowest story of the Lollards' Tower; is it possible that it was intended for the personal punishment of the unfortunate heretics confined above? It is on record, as we have already seen, that the builder of the Tower, Chicheley, found during his time the impossibility of punishing all heretics with death, and the inconvenience, and, as perhaps he thought, the inefficiency, of merely confining them; whipping and other severe and degrading punishments were consequently adopted. We fear that the Post-room was expressly set

apart for this purpose. A low door in one A low door in one corner originally led, we have been informed, to the crypt beneath, an exceedingly fine work, with groined roof, the whole size of the chapel, and the restoration of which to its pristine state would be an act worthy of the enlightened prelate who has already done so much for the palace, and who, we are informed, also meditates the complete restoration of the chapel. Upwards this door led by a stone staircase, now ruinous, to the gallery of the chapel, and across that into the

staircase to the Lollards' prison. But the ordinary way to this room lies. through a door on the opposite side of the Post-room. Entering through this door, we follow the winding track that many have gone before under circumstances requiring the highest efforts of their minds to enable them to bear up under the inflictions that awaited them. The strength they sought, however, was given to them. These prison-walls have doubtless witnessed many an agonizing effort to stun the voices of wives, children, friends, whispering to them of the relief that was to be purchased by apostacy; they have doubtless also witnessed the sublime victory that these gallant spirits have achieved. Could we know all the separate histories of the men whose handwriting lies on the wall of this strange-looking room, what glorious revelations into the dim but holy recesses of the human heart might not be given to us! There is one circumstance that must instantly arrest the attention of every one in the Lollards' prison: it is entirely boarded over-floor, ceiling, and walls. Could this have been done by Chicheley, who was not an unfeeling man when out of the performance of what he esteemed his duties, for the comfort of his prisoners; or was it necessary for their safety during the winter? In another respect this prison was far from being an unpleasant one, considered simply as a prison. The dash of falling oars into the water-the sighing of the wind in the tree-tops close to the window-the melody of the birds, who would sing as merrily for the heretics as for the orthodox Archbishop himself-must have materially lessened the horrors of captivity. A pleasing picture too rises to the mind's eye, as we contemplate the

disposition of one of the rings-immediately under the principal window. The person who had that post might, no doubt, have been often heard telling his companions of what he saw passing on the river; noticing the splendid barges continually stopping at Westminster on the opposite shore, and speculating as to the names or objects of their owners. The feelings aroused by such narrations must have often been changed suddenly into an emotion of a deeper nature, as they saw the Archbishop or his messengers, in the episcopal barge, crossing towards Lambeth, with an order perhaps for the release of one of them, perhaps for his death. There are eight of these rings in all. The dimensions of the room are, as may be judged from our engraving, very small; about thirteen feet by twelve, and about eight high. The door within the stone walls is set in an immense framework of timber. There is another window besides that we have mentioned, which looks into the palace gardens. To these we now descend, and, having paused a while to admire the exquisite view of the palace thence obtained, finally quit, with no unnatural reluctance, this beautiful and deeply interesting place.

XVI. THE ROMAN REMAINS.

In a former paper we endeavoured, by the combined light of ancient records and existing appearances, to trace the history and the limits of Roman London; but our space confined us to that general survey, so that, to complete our account, we have still to notice at least some of the most remarkable of the relics and vestiges of the Roman occupation that the waste of time has left.

Of these there are now few, if any, to be seen above ground. Perhaps a few of the lowest courses of the masonry of the wall still forming a part of Mr. Atkinson's hemp-warehouse behind America Crescent may be regarded as Roman; but of the Roman towers which Woodward and Maitland describe as existing in their day in Houndsditch and the Vineyard, behind the Minories, not a fragment now remains visible. And certainly no other building in London yet in use has any claim to be considered a Roman structure even in the smallest or oldest portion of it. Even in the shape of a mere ruin there is, we believe, nothing now standing of the Roman age.

To the eye, however, of one learned antiquary at least, the metropolis and its neighbourhood so recently as in the latter half of the last century still presented numerous legible memorials of Julius Cæsar himself, and of the state of things that earliest invader found established among the Britons under their native kings. In Long Acre-which can scarcely be said to have to the unlearned anything particularly poetical either in the sound or the sight-the ingenious. Stukeley saw as plainly as if it had been a recollection of his boyhood the Long Agger of the ancient British metropolis-" the magnificent circus, or racecourse,

Y

founded by Eli, father of Immanuence and of Casvelhan! And indeed it may be observed, that, although it has been found necessary to discontinue the horse and chariot races, the street is still famous for its coach-builders, who may be considered as no bad representatives of the original character of the locality in our more mechanical age." Eli's tumulus, or grave, Stukeley further informs us, was "on Windmill Street edge, at the end of Piccadilly," where a windmill was erected in after-times. It was this tumulus, or agger, it seems, which gave name to Long Acre, and also to the street descending from it to the south called Hedge Lane, that is, Agger Lane, the same, we believe, that is now called Whitcombe Street, the continuation of Wardour Street and Prince's Street. The agger, too, is plainly the origin of the Edgeware Road. Then, is not the very name of Eli still heard in that of the chief street of the west end of London? For what is Piccadilly, but Peak Cad Eli-that is, being interpreted, the tumulus ducis Eli, the barrow or monumental mound of the royal Eli? "Cad is a common name of the Welsh kings," adds the worthy Doctor, with all the satisfaction of a mathematician pronouncing his Q. E. D. But the most awkward corruption of all which these venerable British names have undergone is that of the site of the chief temple of ancient London—which from Kneph Agger, that is, the Agger or Mount of the Divinity (so called by the Egyptians, as well as by the Druids, from canaph, the root of the verb to fly, in the Semitic tongues), has been actually transformed by modern ignorance into Knaves' Acre! Whereabouts the said Knaves' Acre may be to be looked for we do not precisely know-but we greatly fear the place, if it were discovered, would be found to have retained but little of its old odour of sanctity, any more than the name. We recollect nothing to match this odd instance of the slipperiness of human speech, except the perversion of the pious old tavern legend of God Encompasseth Us into the sign of the Goat and Compasses.

The greatest of Stukeley's discoveries, however, is that of a camp of Julius Cæsar, "no farther off than Pancras Church." "It is easy," says the enthusiastic old man," to imagine the pleasure to be found in an agreeable walk from my situation in Queen Square through the fields that lead me to the footsteps of Cæsar, when, without going to foreign parts, I can tread the ground which he trode. By finding out several of his camps I was enabled off-hand to distinguish them; and they are very different from all others we meet withal." Stukeley, who, after commencing life as a physician, had, on the plea of ill-health, subsided into a clergyman, and, as incumbent of St. George the Martyr, in Queen Square, had, after the performance of all the duty that was expected from him in that capacity, as matters were then managed, at least six days in every week to spend, without disturbing or being disturbed by anybody, in any innocent way that suited his fancy, seems to have pored over this imaginary camp at St. Pancras till he must have almost believed that he had himself been present at the formation of it in some previous state of existence. Certainly Pythagoras never expressed himself more confidently about the events of the Trojan war, in which he had served as Euphorbus the son of Panthous, than does the reverend Doctor touching the minutest circumstances of the famous Roman's arrival and sojourn at this interesting spot. Cæsar, he informs us, having crossed the Thames at the Coway Stakes, where the name of Chertsey still preserves his memory as Cherbourg does in France, encamped on Greenfield Common, near Staines,