forty-nine and a half feet wide, and eighty-nine feet high. It is divided into eight bays, separated by clustered pillars. At each end, east and west, is a magnificent window, occupying the whole width, and very rich in design and decorative detail. At the east end is a raised daïs, reached by three steps. In this hall is held the Court of Hustings, the meetings of the Common Hall for election of Lord Mayor, sheriffs, &c., and the various public meetings of the citizens of London called by the Lord Mayor. Here also the great ninth of November banquet takes place every year, and here are held the great meetings for conferring the freedom of the City upon distinguished men.

One of the glories of the hall is the magnificent roof, erected in the year 1865. The original roof of timber perished in the Great Fire, a contemporary account stating that the sight of Guildhall was a fearful spectacle, which stood the whole body of it together in view for several hours together after the fire had taken it, without flames (I suppose because the timber was of such solid oake) in a bright shining coale, as if it had been a palace of gold, or a great building of burnished brass.' After this event, which greatly injured not only the roof, but the whole fabric, the walls of the hall appear to have been raised twenty feet, and a flat roof placed upon them. It is thus that the hall appears in the last century prints. But in the years 1864 and 1865, under the superintendence of Mr. Horace Jones, the late City architect, the present handsome roof, which is believed to be on the same plan as that destroyed in 1666, was erected.

In the great hall are some interesting memorials, notably those to William Beckford, Lord Mayor in 1763 and 1770; William Pitt, Earl of Chatham; the Duke of Wellington; Lord Nelson, and William Pitt, son of the Earl of Chatham. The old Guildhall, which was glazed by the munificence of Whittington, was doubtless very rich in mediæval glass and ornamentation. In very recent years civic and private wealth has been devoted to a similar purpose, and the hall can boast of some magnificent stained and painted glass. The great east window was erected by Lancashire operatives in commemoration of the liberal help afforded to them by London during the hard times of the cotton famine. It depicts the rebuilding of London by King Alfred, and the grant of the first charter by William the Conqueror. It contains full-length portraits of Sir Richard Whittington, Sir Thomas Gresham, John of Gaunt, and Sir Thomas Stanley, and it also exhibits the arms of the twelve great City companies. The other windows commemorate important events in London life, such as the coronation of Edward VI., Rahere's dream and the founding of St. Bartholomew's Hospital, the death of Wat Tyler, the expulsion of the Jews under Edward I., their petition to Cromwell for liberty to return, and the swearing in of Sir David Salomons, in 1855, the first Jew who attained to the dignity of Lord Mayor. The great window at the west end is a memorial to Prince Albert.

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One of the most recent additions is the window presented by Mr. J. T. Bedford, commemorating that great beneficial act of the Corporation, by which between the years 1871 and 1882, the City succeeded in saving 5500 acres of Epping Forest from the builder, and preserving them in perpetuity for public use. The two scenes depicted are Queen Elizabeth starting for the chase from her hunting lodge in the forest, which is still preserved; and Queen Victoria receiving an address from the Corporation in 1882, prior to the dedication of the forest to public use.

No one can enter the hall without noticing the huge figures of the two giants placed in the angles at the western end, and probably few objects in London are more frequently mentioned in descriptions of civic ceremonials

than these effigies, known as Gog and Magog. They are fourteen feet six inches high, and were in all probability carved by Captain Richard Saunders, a Cheapside carver, in the first few years of the eighteenth century. Originally they represented Gogmagog and Corineus, two mythical personages, who were supposed to have engaged in the prehistoric conflicts between the Trojans and early Britons. But in process of time the latter name has been dropped and the former divided, in order to serve for the two. A not unreasonable supposition as to their origin and use is that they owe their introduction into London life to a desire on the part of the citizens to imitate in their civic processions the custom of the Flemish municipalities, which on great festival days were in the habit of parading their com

munal or local giant. It was formerly the custom to parade large wickerwork figures resembling these images in the Lord Mayor's procession. For a long time these two grotesque effigies stood over the north doorway of the hall, but during the repairs of 1815 they were removed to their present position.

In addition to the porch the only part of the Guildhall now extant that dates from 1411 is the crypt, and of this probably only the eastern portion remains in its original state. It is seventy-six feet long, forty-five and a quarter feet wide, and thirteen feet seven inches high. It is an unsually fine specimen of Early English architecture. It is a vaulted chamber consisting of three aisles, separated by pillars, each aisle being divided into four vaults. A very interesting feature is the large number of unusually interesting bosses. Among these may be noted the arms of Edward the Confessor, the shield with the crossed swords, and those of heads and of animals.

In ancient times there adjoined the south-east wall of the hall a chapel, but this, after sharing the vicissitudes of the Guildhall for centuries, was finally destroyed in 1822, and the site is now occupied by the New Art Gallery. From sketches and plans of this structure still extant, enough is known of it to make it a matter of regret that permission was ever granted for its removal. A reproduction of one of the sketches is given on page 61.

The three stone figures of Edward VI., Elizabeth, and Charles I., which formerly occupied niches on the west front of the chapel, facing Guildhall Yard, are now preserved on the principal staircase of the Guildhall Library.

The custom of giving the great banquet on the installation of the new Lord Mayor, in the Guildhall, originated with Sir John Shaa, who was mayor in 1501, and who built the kitchen. Previously it had been held in

the hall of one or other of the companies. But from Sir John Shaa's day to the present the feast has been held there, except during the period after the Great Fire, when the hall was uninhabitable. But at a much earlier date the hall had been used for pageants and state occasions, and that hospitality for which the City of London is so famous. The great victory of the Black Prince at Poitiers was celebrated by a grand entertainment on May 2, 1357. In 1419 Sir Richard Whittington entertained Henry V. and his queen, on which occasion, the story goes, that while Henry was admiring the fire of wood mixed with cinnamon and other spices, Whittington threw into it bonds for £60,000, representing the debt owed to him by the king. If true, and many hold that the incident is authentic, well might Henry, as reported, exclaim, 'Never had Prince such a subject!' To which Whittington responded, 'Never had subject such a Prince!' On August 12, 1554, the City gave a magnificent reception to Mary and her husband, Philip II. In 1641 Sir Richard Gurney entertained Charles I. The reception was very brilliant, and seems to have led Charles to fancy that his influence in the City was stronger than he had thought. It encouraged him to proceed with his resistance to Parliament and begin the eight years'

conflict that for him was to close in utter destruction. Gurney paid the penalty for his share in this business by being expelled from Parliament. In 1643 Charles appeared in the Guildhall to demand the surrender of the five members, but he found the temper of the great body of the citizens anything but what he wished, and retired thence as baffled as he had been the previous day in the House of Commons. Seventeen years later, in 1660, his son, Charles II., visited the Guildhall in state to commemorate his 'glorious restoration.' Pepys describes at length a banquet he attended in 1663, the arrangements not meeting with his entire approval. 'Anon comes the Lord Mayor, who went up to the Lords, and then to the other tables to bid welcome, and so all to dinner. I sat near Probyn, Baron and Creed, at the merchant strangers' table, where ten good dishes to a messe, with plenty of wine of all sorts, of which I drank none; but it was very unpleasing that we had no napkins, nor change of trenchers, and drank out of

earthen pitchers and wooden dishes. . . . I expected musique, but there was none, but only trumpets and drums, which displeased me. The dinner, it seems, is made by the Mayor and two Sheriffs for the time being, the Lord Mayor paying one half and they the other. And the whole, Probyn says, is reckoned to come to about 7 or 800 at most.'

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William of Orange, George II., George III., and other recent sovereigns have all accepted the Guildhall hospitality, it being the invariable practice for the sovereign to honour the City by being present at the first mayoralty banquet after his accession. One of the most gorgeous banquets of this century was that given on November 9, 1837, when Queen Victoria was present. minds the chief idea connected with the Mayor and Corporation is that of lavish, if not altogether too excessive hospitality-and with the Guildhall that of almost perpetual feastings. But those ancient walls have looked down in their time upon many a state tragedy. They have witnessed many a trial of great moment in English history, and within them many a man and woman has had to await the verdict, which, if adverse, condemned them to speedy, and in many cases very cruel execution. In 1509 Edmund Dudley, Speaker of the House of Commons in the reign of Henry VII., and