Philippa might gaze on the show with her
ladies. Many a course had been run, many
a spear shivered, and many a gallant knight
unhorsed, when suddenly the wooden gallery,
on which the queen and her maidens were
seated, gave way. Though the royal party
happily escaped harm, many others were
grievously wounded, both of those who were
thrown down, and those on whom the
timbers fell. The king was fiercely wrath with
the carpenters who had built up so weak a
framework, and would have condignly punished
them, had not the queen, ever tender-hearted,
unwilling that the day's tragedy should be
increased, begged off the culprits; whereby
she gained for herself yet more love, if that
might be, than her sweetness of nature had
already won from all men. To avoid accidents
hereafter, the king ordered yonder shed of stone
to be erected, near the church of St. Mary-le-Bow
(not a little to its disfigurement), that
thence the court might behold the joustings in
safety. This shed is called the Crowne silde.
The cross near it, in the centre of the street, is
the Standard of Clife, where public proclamations
are issued, and executions of felons occasionally
take place. To the right, where you see the
water-carts standing, is one of our largest
conduits. The water, which we are strictly charged
not to waste, is brought in leaden pipes from
the brook of Tyebourne, in the village of
Paddington, of which the Lord Abbot of
Westminster has the seignory. Advancing up Chepe,
we pass Fryday-street, with its hide market.
Down that further turning to the left, is the
King's Exchange, where the assay of metal for
coinage is carried on. Near thereto dwell also
the chief moneyers of the City.

The houses are nowhere statelier in London
than here. They appear mean to your eyes,
doubtless, accustomed to structures of many
stories high, whereas these have rarely more
than two, of which the upper almost uniformly
projects; yet, to our view, what is thereby lost
in grandeur, is partly recompensed in quaint
picturesque beauty, by the long white lines of
overhanging chambers, and angular gables,
mingling with the church spires and towers.
The height of the footway, which is raised on
piles above the road, adds to the effect presented
by Westchepe in particular. You will observe
that we use wood for building purposes far
more commonly than stone, though, by an
ancient regulation or Assize of the City, the
party walls of each house are ordained to be of
stone. We have a great liking, too, for this
clean whitewashed aspect, to which in your
country such objection prevails. It is not long
since there was so great an outcry raised against
the dyers and brewers for using sea-coal, which
blackened the houses with smoke, that its
employment was rendered penal; but of late years
the needs of trade have reconciled men to the
annoyance. These kennels on each side of the
road are made to receive the droppings from the
house gutters. No nuisance need arise from
them, it the rakeres appointed by each ward to
clear the streets of garbage do their duty. The
pavement of the road is kept in repair by the
civic officers, who levy a toll, called " pavage,"
from carts entering and leaving the gates—and
that of the pathway by the householders, each
of whom is bound to pave in front of his own
house.

We leave to our right the little church of
St. Michael in the Quern (or Corn, from the
market held here) and the old cross at its
eastern end. And now comes in sight the great
cathedral church of St. Paul, covering a space
of nearly four acres in extent. Let us enter
for a moment and glance at the Norman nave
and transepts, the pointed choir, and lady
chapel, and the rich rose window at the east.
The high altar is a miracle of costliness and
splendour. St. Erkenwald's shrine yonder has
recently been enriched by the dean and chapter
with precious metals and gems, being a
great resort of the devout, on whom many
miracles have been there wrought. Beneath the
cathedral is the crypt church of St. Faith.
Adjoining the southern transept you see the
circular chapter-house, which leads into the
pointed cloister, two stories in height. Returning
now to the churchyard, you see the bishop's
palace on the north-western side, a stately and
spacious pile. On the opposite side dwell the
dean, prebendaries, and other dignitaries of the
church. In this churchyard, before the wall was
built round it, the citizens were wont to hold
their folkmotes, or popular assemblies, being
thereto summoned by the great bell in the
steeple. On every Sunday forenoon, yonder
wooden pulpit cross, with its stone steps, is
occupied by some eloquent priest or monk,
round whom the citizens flock. If the weather
be wet, the preacher takes his stand under the
penthouse beside the cathedral, known as the
Shroudes.

In the street of Paternoster-row, on the right,
dwell bead-turners for rosaries, and the writers
of texts, aves, and paternosters. Further on in
that direction are the mansions of the Earl of
Warwick and the Duke of Bretagne. Passing
down Bowyer-row, where many of the Bowyers
dwell, we soon come upon the turning to the
Baylye, where the City Chamberlain holds his
court. Our course is through the gate named
Ludgate, which takes its name from a fabled
King of Britain, whose quaint image, with that
of many another monarch, fabled and historic,
adorns the front. There is a talk of shortly
turning the gatehouse into a debtors' prison. At
present, like the other city gates, it is inhabited
by a serjeant-at-arms, who, with an attendant
provided by himself, keeps watch at night. The
two armed men on guard, are daily furnished
by the ward or district in which the gate is
situated. Crossing the drawbridge of the town
ditch, which is about two hundred feet in width,
we are now without the walls. Their
materials are ragstone and flint, with layers of
varicoloured tiles, and in places they are nearly
ten feet thick, and eighteen deep. The
turrets, to the left, are those of the tower on the