As you may suppose, from the prominent position which I—the Tower—have for so many centuries occupied in this old city of ours, I have long since ceased to suffer from the undue modesty which so often accompanies equally deserving but less conspicuous merit. I can only hope that you will agree with my reasons for anticipating from you some of that appreciation and interest which I certainly take in myself. And I propose to introduce my subject in the novel way of speaking of myself as personal, and as having noted, during my long life, various matters to which I shall call your attention. As an introduction, I am proud to think that I need only say, once again, that I am the Tower of St. Giles’s Church, Norwich. And surely there cannot be many of our citizens who are in the habit of passing up our broad street, St. Giles’s (the lower Newport as it used to be called), who have not been struck with the fine proportions of my structure, standing as I do at the head of this fine thoroughfare, and looking and being an object of admiration for my beauty and my striking position. Many are the beautiful views which I present to the passer-by in the varying lights of the day, but my beauty and grandeur are, I think, seen best of all, when in the evening the sun is setting behind me in the west, or the moon with her paler light throws down along the length of the main street of St. Giles, those shadows, which—produced by my intervening tower—are so well worthy of the admiration of all who have eyes to see, and minds to appreciate, the glory of evening views. {101} Let me say here in passing that Saint Giles, the saint after whom I am named, appears to have lived in France; and history relates that he was adopted as the typical Patron of the crippled portion of humanity from his being himself lame, and from his having been said to have effected a miraculous cure of a sick beggar. As such Patron, parishes which, like mine, were located on the outskirts of towns, have frequently been given the name of St. Giles, as having had the duty, in the olden time from their position, of contributing to the needs of passing wayfarers, and of those requiring Christian charity. And thus, in Norwich, not only was my own parish named after this saint, but the so-called “Old Man’s Hospital,” in Bishopgate Street, at the other end of the city, was also formerly called St. Giles’s Hospital.