clockmaker whose shop was to be found in one of the houses which in that day lined both sides of London Bridge.

When the Great Plague raged in 1665, the churchyard of St. Stephen's, Colman Street, was a place of interment for plague victims. It is said of John Hayward, sexton of the church at the time, that when everyone through fear refused him aid, he alone drove the death cart and unaided buried all the victims who lived within the parish limits.

Almost opposite St. Stephen's, in the short and narrow passageway with the musical name of Great Bell Alley, midway of the block on the north side, Robert Bloomfield, the poet of country scenes, in early days worked as a shoemaker in a garret. While living here in extreme poverty,[Pg 17]
[Pg 18] Bloomfield, during his working hours, thought out the "Farmer's Boy," which when he was able to purchase paper for, he made haste to write. In two years twenty thousand copies of the poem had been sold. Bloomfield was born in a little Suffolk village in 1766, and worked as helper to a farmer, but ran away to London hoping to gain fame and fortune as a poet. After the success of the "Farmer's Boy," he wrote "Rural Tales," "News from the Farm" and other stories in verse, but although they met with a welcome he finally drifted back to his own country where he died very poor.

An aged sign, setting forth what looks to be a swan with two heads, is set in the doorway above a railway parcels office in Gresham Street, at the Aldermanbury corner, and is the original marking of the tavern called "The Swan with two Necks," a most famous resort, which stood on this site for almost three hundred years. It was a thriving place in 1556, and fell from public favour only when the age of stage coaches passed away.

Aldermanbury came by its name because of there being held in the street a famous court or bury of the Aldermen.

The church of St. Mary in Aldermanbury, close by the Guildhall, was the scene of the marriage in 1656 of John Milton and Catherine Woodcock his second wife. These two were very happy, and Milton mourned deeply when fifteen months after the wedding he was left a widower. Under the altar of this church was buried in 1689, Lord Jeffreys, the great favourite of James II. and the notorious leader of the Bloody Assizes. His tomb is still to be seen here.

From the west side of Aldermanbury stretches Love Lane, at the end of which stands the small church of St. Alban's, built by Inigo Jones in 1634, severely damaged in the Great Fire, and restored by Wren in 1685. It guards the site of the first house of worship set up by good King Alfred after he had defeated the Danes. Close by the altar is an ancient hour glass of quaint design, a relic of 16th century days, when the preacher regulated the length of his sermons by the running sand.

The name of Milk Street, in a locality formerly given over to the sellers of milk, has crept into history because it was here that Sir Thomas More the great Lord Chancellor was born, on the east side of the way, near Cheapside in 1480. He was found guilty of high treason when he refused to acknowledge the lawfulness of the marriage of Henry VIII. to Anne Boleyn and was beheaded in the Tower, the grim Tower whose frowning walls hide many dark secrets.

One of the most important of London taverns, The Mermaid, stood in Cheapside beyond Friday Street and close to Bread Street on the south side of the road. Ben Jonson founded the Mermaid Club at this house in 1603, and here met in social converse Shakespeare, Beaumont, Fletcher, Dr. Donne, Selden and many another author. It is recorded that here assembled "more talent and genius than ever met before or since." The house, among so many others, was destroyed in the Great Fire. In the epistle of Beaumont to Jonson, the Mermaid is spoken of thus:

What things have we seen
Done at the Mermaid; heard words that have been
So nimble, and so full of subtle flame,
As if that every one from whence they came
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,
And had resolved to live a fool the rest
Of his dull life.

The famous Plane Tree—Wood Street, Cheapside

In Friday Street, strangely enough, the Wednesday Club had its meetings, and in 1694 were held the conferences, headed by William Paterson, Scotch merchant, which resulted in the establishment of the Bank of England, the first joint-stock bank of England.

Friday Street was, in other days, the heart of the district of fishmongers, and came by its name because of Friday being the market-day and fish-market-day as well.

In Cheapside, where Wood Street joins it, stood a cross, set up by Edward I., to mark one of the spots where the funeral bier of his beloved Queen Eleanor rested on the journey from Lincoln to Westminster Abbey. This cross was finally destroyed in 1643, during the mayoralty of Isaac Pennington, as under the Commonwealth it came to be regarded as a relic of superstition.

Where Wood Street joins Cheapside, close by the northwest corner, grows a plane-tree, in a spot surrounded on three sides by houses, on ground estimated to be worth one million pounds an acre. Although the space is amply large for a building, and although innumerable legal efforts have been made to build here, the tree is protected in the leases of the nearby houses—evidently indefinitely protected under the "ancient lights" laws which prevent shutting off light from windows. Still further is the tree safe from invasion because it grows on ground that was once part of the churchyard of St. Peters—a church destroyed in the Great Fire—and an English law prevents building on sacred ground without a special act of Parliament. This is the tree that Wordsworth knew and loved, and of which he wrote in "Poor Susan":

At the corner of Wood Street when daylight appears,
There's a thrush that sings loud; it has sung for three years.

Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard,
In the silence of morning, the song of the bird.

A clock without a face, set in a church steeple, is the strange detail of the church of St. Vedast in Foster Lane opposite the Post Office, east. No other church in London has its like. It has all the works of a regular clock, but there are no dials, a bell proclaiming the hours.

Near the northeast corner of St. Paul's Cathedral at the top of Ludgate Hill, once stood the Cross of St. Paul, where for centuries before the present cathedral was built sermons were preached, heretics were made to recant and witches to confess. The pulpit was destroyed by order of Parliament in 1643. Where the cathedral stands a church has been from very early times. The first is believed to have been built by Christians in the time of the Romans. There certainly was a church here, which was reconstructed under Ethelbert, King of Kent, in 610. It was burned in 961 and immediately rebuilt. Again in 1087 it was destroyed by fire and a new church begun at once, but this was not completed for more than 200 years. This Old St. Paul's, being many times restored, finally came to an end in the Great Fire of 1666. The present cathedral was begun in 1675,