apartments in the whole Tower is reached.

It is a vaulted chamber, the crypt proper of St. John's Chapel. It was known some years since as Queen Elizabeth's Armoury, because an effigy of that sovereign, mounted on horseback, stood there, and used to be shown to the public, who then entered by the east window. It is thirty-nine feet long by thirteen feet six inches in width, and well lighted, because it stands at some distance above the ground level, and the old windows in the southern side have been enlarged. Opening out of the northern side, and hollowed out of the massive eastern wall, is an unlighted cham

ber eight feet by ten. The legend

used to run that here Sir Walter Raleigh was imprisoned, and penned his History of the World! The warders now rarely venture beyond the assertion that at some time during his numerous imprisonments in the Tower that great man was immured here. Clear to the view, on stones forming part of the doorway to the cell, in the same apartment, but not, in all probability, on the exact spot where they were first carved, are some inscriptions which form touching memorials of prisoners who deserved a better fate. The unfortunate and ill-judged insurrection of Sir Thomas Wyatt filled the Tower with prisoners; and either that event or the religious followed persecution which it, brought hither the men who carved

these affecting inscriptions. One is only partially legible, but two can be easily read. They are as follows: He that indureth to the ende shall be saved. M. 10 R. Rudston. Kent, Ann. 1553.' 'Be faithful unto the deth, and I will give thee a crowne of life. T. Fane. 1554.' Beneath this stands simply the name and date, T. Culpeper of Darford.' While it is true that the Tower on the one hand witnesses to the power and willingness of authority to inflict suffering, on the other it affords very convincing proofs of the great truth that the hope of personal immortality and of redemption through the blood of Jesus Christ is the most sure solace and consolation in the hour of man's greatest extremity. The aged Bishop Fisher, the staunch upholder of a system and a creed which were fast losing their hold upon England, and these humble unknown men of Kent, alike go for comfort and strength, and

find it, in the pages of Christ's Gospel. They carved upon their prison cell the words of confidence that nerved the martyrs to face the rack and the dungeon and the stake; the bishop, when starting for his short walk to the scaffold, opens his New Testament and reads: This is life eternal, to know Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent.'

The third stage of the White Tower, and occupying the second floor, is open to the public. Access is obtained by a door cut through the southwestern wall, probably in Tudor times. Passing through this a winding stair is reached, and upon the first landing, in 1674, were found some bones believed to be those of Edward V. and his brother, who were probably murdered by order of Richard III. The turret-stair leads to the corridor

which enters St. John's Chapel
in the south-western corner.
The building is a noble specimen
of Norman architecture, at once
the largest and most perfect
castle chapel known to exist in
England. It has been so re-

cently restored, and scraped so
clean, the floor has been so
neatly repaved and repaired,
that we find it next to impos-
sible to realize that these aisles
have echoed to the tread of
twenty-six generations of wor-
shippers and visitors. While
kneeling here, it is said, Bracken-
bury, in 1483, received and re-
fused to obey the order to kill
the young princes.
It was
here that the Duke of North-

umberland, who by his ambition had destroyed Lady Jane Grey and many of his relatives, revealed the baseness of his nature by a public recantation of Protestantism. On August 21st, 1553, in the vain hope of saving his worthless and mischievous life, he heard mass celebrated by Gardiner, confessed himself a Romanist, and turning to those present, who had been carefully summoned to witness his humiliation, said, Truly, good people, I profess here before you all that I have received the sacrament according to the true Catholic faith; and the plague that is upon the realm and upon us now, is that we have erred from the faith these sixteen years; and this I protest unto you from the bottom of my heart.' But this apostasy, the shame of which, to use Froude's words, shook down the frail edifice of the Protestant constitution, to be raised again in suffering, as the

first foundations had been laid, by purer hands and nobler spirits, did not save him. He was executed on Tower Hill on August 22nd, 1553. Only a few days before this event, Mary Tudor had attended a solemn requiem according to Romish rites for the soul of Edward VI., while at the same time, in Henry VII.'s Chapel at Westminster, Cranmer was committing his body to the dust according to the ritual of the Prayer-Book the archbishop had so largely moulded, thus completing the last public and official act of his life. It was at the altar in St. John's Chapel, according to some authorities, that Mary betrothed herself to Philip II., hoping to find in him a loving husband, and by his help to win back England and Europe to complete allegiance to the Pope, but succeeding only in linking herself to one of the cruellest monsters who ever disgraced humanity, and who repaid her almost fanatical affection by the most heartless neglect.

The chapel consists of a nave and aisles separated by heavy pillars The aisles are roofed over, and above them is a gallery or triforium, which on the north side communicates directly with the state apartments on the upper floor, and thus allowed royal worshippers to enter the chapel unseen by those below. In 1550 the furniture was removed, and from about that period until the building of the present Record Office, many of the public archives were kept here.

From the north aisle of the chapel a door leads into the smaller apartment on the second floor, known as the Banqueting Chamber, and remarkable from the fact that it possesses a fireplace--a convenience that appears to have been extremely rare in Norman buildings, only two or three other examples being known. Passing through the larger western room on this floor, the third and highest stage in the White Tower is staircase in the south-western corner. This stage is occupied by the large western apartment known as the Council Chamber, the smaller eastern chamber and the triforium of St. John's Chapel. In the exterior walls, which are from ten to eleven feet thick, is a vaulted gallery thirteen feet high and from three to three feet six inches wide, opening at one end into the southern and at the other into the northern end of the chapel triforium.

reached by a turret

In the Council Chamber and the adjoining room is very well displayed the rich Tower collection of ancient armour, weapons, and relics. The old notion that it extended from William I.'s days down to modern times has had to be given up, but there is no doubt that a few specimens go back to the fourteenth century, and the collection is rich in examples of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The collection is now very well arranged, and most of the articles are so clearly marked that all interested in such things may make a leisurely inspection of them.

It was from this room that Lord Hastings, in 1483, was hurried to execution on the Tower Green; it was here that the Duke of Orleans and John of France were confined in Edward the Third's reign, and from the southern windows Ralph Flambard escaped by means of a rope in 1100.

Great as the temptation is to linger over the many historic sites and nooks of the Tower, we must not stay. We can only refer to three or four parts that demand notice in any sketch, however brief. Three out of the thirteen towers of the inner ward deserve special attention. The Wakefield Tower is associated with the two great builders of the Tower, and with one of the weak kings who sought to make it his defence in times of trouble. The lower part dates most probably from Gundulf's time. Henry III. partially rebuilt it, the upper part dating from about 1238. It was then known as the Hall Tower, doubtless because of its nearness to the palace. Henry VI. used the recess in the principal apartment-believed to be the chapel referred to in ancient records-as an oratory. Here he lived for many years, or, as perhaps it may be more correctly described, here he was confined. Here, according to tradition, he died on May 22nd, 1471, his end, according to the belief of many, having been hastened by foul play. For centuries prior to 1856 public records were stored in the Wakefield Tower, but since the year 1867 it has been used for the preservation and exhibition of the regalia or crown jewels of England. These in King John's day were guarded by the Templars at their house in Fleet Street, and in 1253 they were first sent to the Tower. They used to be kept in a room at the south side of the White Tower, whence in 1641 they were moved to a special building in the Martin or Brick Tower. After the execution of Charles I. the jewels were almost all broken up and sold or lost. At the restoration of Charles II., Sir Robert Vyner, a goldsmith, was employed to supply all that was needful, using of course such fine stones belonging to the former regalia as had been preserved. So far as possible the old patterns were followed, and the old names were given to the new objects. They are kept by an officer specially appointed for the purpose, by whom only they can be removed when required for State purposes. We cannot venture upon any detailed description of these valuable objects, nor can we do more than refer to the desperate and so nearly successful effort of Thomas Blood to carry them off in 1671.

Adjoining the Wakefield Tower, and pierced by the only gate through which admittance is gained to the inner ward, stands what is now called the Bloody Tower, though known in ancient times by the much more agreeable. name of Garden Tower. The gateway, with its heavy portcullis, fronts and seems to frown darkly upon the Traitor's Gate, immediately opposite and below it. The heart of queen and bishop, of noble and peasant, might well have quailed at the sight of its strength, as they came up the steps and passed under the portcullis, the strong walls of stone deepening their sense of helplessness

and of danger. Behind the parapet to the west of the tower stood formerly a garden, probably the origin of the ancient name. The warder shows you, with some confidence, the room in which the young princes were murdered. Tradition has it that here Henry VI. lived immediately before his death, but the modern name dates in all probability from 1585, when Henry, the unhappy eighth Duke of Northumberland, was found dead in his bed here, with three bullet-wounds in his body. The garden was the place where Sir Walter Raleigh was allowed to walk about, and from the parapet he was able to converse with friends and passers-by in the outer ward. In this tower he probably passed some years.

At the south-west angle of the inner ward stands the Bell Tower, so called from the alarm bell in the little turret. The upper chamber is a large vaulted room, in which many distinguished prisoners were confined.

here probably that Elizabeth was imprisoned; here, and not in the basement of the White Tower, Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, awaited execution; here, in 1565, Margaret, Countess of Lennox, the mother of Darnley, was shut up when the news of her son's marriage. to Mary Queen of Scots reached London; and here the hapless Arabella Stuart wore out four weary years, and finally lost her reason.

It was

INSCRIPTION IN THE BEAUCHAMP TOWER, CUT BY THE EARL OF
ARUNDELL IN 1587.

To the north of the Bell Tower stands another most interesting building, the Beauchamp Tower. It dates from Edward the Third's time, and has three stories, the middle one being on the level of the rampart. Upon the walls of the various parts of this tower are carved a large number of inscriptions, the work of the unfortunate prisoners confined here, who thus sought to while away some of the weary hours of their durance. Many of the inscriptions stand just where they were originally carved, but a number of them unfortunately have been brought from other parts of the Tower. This, no doubt, is a convenience to the public, but it has destroyed the historic significance and the historic charm of seeing the lines or the device exactly where and exactly how the long-vanished hand of the carver left them. These inscriptions are numbered, and there are no less than ninetyone, the oldest known being that of Thomas Talbot, 1462,' one of the men, doubtless, concerned in the Wars of the Roses. Of many of the prisoners who cut these inscriptions nothing is known, but a few of them are well calculated