eye. uous, while the narrow strip of a street cal.ed Paternoster-row, can scarcely be traced with the There is the Post Office, with its portico and Doric pillars: as seen from the ground it is a noble edifice; but this altitude is a sad revealer of secrets. We here perceive that the outside is of stone, and the inside of brick. I might enter on a description of the building, its exterior form, and its internal arrangements, its system of business, its branch offices, and its regulations for receiving and despatching letters; for it is a little city in itself, and in degree may be said, if not to regulate, at least, to affect the beating of every heart, and the throbbing of every pulse in the metropolis. And that is St. Martin's-le-Grand! Could I go back a few short centuries; instead of the scene that now presents itself, I should be gazing on old Alders-gate; the richly and royally endowed priory of St. Martin-leGrand; and the proud and princely mansion of the duke of Brittany. Even now, I can fancy that I hear the Christmas anthem of a band of brotherhood, portly in form and feature; as with sack and wallet they plod their way through the miry streets to gather largesses against the holy tide. Christmas was Christmas then, in all its ceremonial decorations, its wide-spread charities, its open-hearted hospitality, and its reckless. revelry. He who would learn to the full, the manner and spirit with which our ancestors commemorated Christmas, had need be patient and persevering, as well as ardent, in his inquiry; for the authorities he has to consult, and the evidence he has to collect, are widely scattered through records of a varied character. Should he fix on the days of William the Norman, as on a starting point, and continue his course to those of Oliver Cromwell; he must turn over the ample pages of many an ancient record and time-worn chronicle; he must ponder over the statute-book, scrutinize the rolls of court, and read the antique ballads of the olden times. The roya. household books, and the archives of noble families, will furnish him with much information; and the popular traditions, and expiring observances in many a country homestead at Christmas, will throw occasional light on the faint and shadowy remembrances of remoter times. When we read of our great great grandfathers, and our equally memorable and venerated great great grandmothers, sitting at the huge dinner table prodigally supplied with orthodox dishes; the damask napkin drawn through the highest button hole of their church-going, Christmas-visiting coats; or the lawn handkerchief carefully pinned over the brocade stomacher, reciprocating healths; and unitedly complimenting the mistress of the entertainment; who, well versed in all the mysteries of the still and stewpan, competent to 66 rear a goose," (6 sauce a capon," ""border a pasty," or "barb a lobster," with her best point ruffles pinned up, and brandishing her huge carving knife, occupied her household throne -the large arm chair, at the head of the table. When we read that our ancestors assembled themselves at the festive board. "And served ip salmon, venison, and wild boars, By nundreds, and by dozens, and by scores," we regard them as a race of men altogether diverse from those that now people our path-ways. We can now hardly realize, even by the glimpses we may get of a ord mayor's feast, of the wassailry and prodigality of our progenitors, when, with sinewy frames and lusty ap petites, they revelled 'mid. "Hogsheads of honey, kilderkins of mustard, Muttons and fatted beeves, and bacon swine; Christ's Hospital is plainly seen. It was originally a religious house of the order of Grey Friars, who came from Italy 1224. The new hall is a noble building in the Tudor style, and stands partly on the ancient wall of London, and partly on the spot where stood the refectory of Grey Friars. The principal front is towards Newgate street. It has an octagon tower at each extremity, and is supported by buttresses with embattled top and pinnacles. Christ's Hospital, in 1552, was prepared to receive poor fatherless children. Their livery was russet cotton, which soon after was changed for blue. The present Christ Church was built by sir Christopher Wren, the architect of the goodly pile on which I am now standing. The old Monastery church was burned down by the great fire of London, in 1666. Who has not stood at the iron gates, to see the boys belonging to the place at play, in their oldfashioned monkish garb? The dark blue coat with long skirts, the yellow petticoat and stockings, the leathern girdle, the white neckband, and the small black worsted cap, are altogether unlike the dress of modern times. The square there, with the four noble stone buildings, mited by stone gateways at the angles, is St. Bartholo mew's Hospital. It is devoted to the use of the sick: nearly four thousand in-patients, and a yet greater number of out-patients, have been cured or relieved by this establishment, in the course of a year. A little to the right yonder, is the Charter-house, with its front in Charter-house square. An extensive Carthusian monastery once stood on the spot where the present building is situated. The Charter-house Hospital and Free-school were founded by a wealthy citizen of the name of Sutton. Another monastic establishment occupied a spot beyond, where the knights-hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem, resided. St. John's Gate, Clerkenwell, is well known. Changed as London is, from what it was in the olden time, who shall say that it will not be much more so in future days? I can just catch a glimpse of Smithfield. "Schmyt Fyeld," it was once called; but a different place it was then, to what it is now. About a third of it may be seen from this gallery. It is the principal London mart for cattle, sheep, pigs, horses, and hay. More than sixteen thousand pigs, seventeen thousand calves, twenty thousand horses, a hundred thousand bullocks, and nine hundred thousand sheep and lambs, are here annually sold. It was in Smithfield, that the lord mayor, Walworth, in the reign of Richard II., killed Wat Tyler; and at a yet earlier date, duels were decided there according to the "kamp-fight" ordeal of the Saxons. Tilts and tournaments, also, were held in Smithfield. Three thousand archers once assembled here, most of them with golden chains suspended from their necks, attended with crowds of people; and Henry v. created, in a jestful manner, one Barlow, duke of Shoreditch, for his skill in archery. It was here that the doting hero, Edward I., in his sixty-second year, when he ought to have been much better employed, "infatuated by the charms of Alice Pierce, placed her by his side in a magnificent car, and styling her the lady of the sun' conducted her to the lists, followed by a train of knights, each leading by the bridle a beautiful palfrey mounted by a gay damsel; and for seven days together, exhibited the most splendid justs in indulgence of his disgraceful passion." To the magnificent tournament of Richard II., held at this place, "there issued out of the Towre of London, fyrst three-score coursers, apparelled for the justes, and on every one a squyer of honour riding a soft pace. Then issued out three-score ladyes of honoure mounted on fayre palfreyes; and every lady led a knight by a cheyne of silver, which knights were apparelled to just." Bartholomew fair was granted for three days in the year to the neighbouring priory by Henry II.; and ever since then, Smithfield has annually been the scene of theatrical representations, wild beasts, shows of all descriptions, revelry, folly, and crime. Bad characters have assembled there of all kinds, but latterly, some successful attempts have been made to diminish the evils of this fair. But even the reckless debauchery of Bartholomew fair, cannot compare in iniquity with the cruel burnings of the martyrs in Smithfield: these mark the place with a fearful significancy, and brand it with an infamy never to be effaced. There is a soft, picture-like expression given by the |