“In olden times St. Paul’s Churchyard was one of the great business centres of London. About the church men met to discuss the doings of the day, the last piece of news from Flanders, France or Spain, or the rumours from the country. Here the citizens gathered angrily when there was any talk of an invasion of their cherished liberties, grumbled over the benevolence demanded by his Majesty for the pay of the troops engaged in the French war, or jeered at some poor wretch nailed by his ears in the pillory. Here the heralds would proclaim the news of our victories by sea and land; here the public newsmen would read out their budgets; vendors of infallible nostrums would wax eloquent as to the virtues of their wares; and the wives and daughters of the citizens would gather to gossip and flirt. It was at once the exchange, the club, and the meeting-place of London. Paul’s Cross was the heart of the City; here men threw up their bonnets when they heard of Crécy and of Agincourt; here they listened to the preachings of the first followers of Wycliffe; here they erected their choicest pageants when a new sovereign visited the City for the first time, or brought his new-made spouse to show her to his lieges; and gathered with frowning brows beneath iron caps when London threw in its lot with the Parliament, and the train bands marched off to fight the King’s forces. The business mart of the City lies now in front of the Mansion House, but a great deal of business is still done under the shadow of the Cathedral.”--(C. D.) All the streets bear names that remind us of the vicinity of St. Paul’s--Creed Lane, Ave Maria Lane, Sermon Lane, Canon Alley, Amen Corner and Paternoster Row known throughout the world as the headquarters of the book trade and publishers, while Cheapside, Ludgate Hill, Fleet Street and St. Paul’s Churchyard swarm with ghosts and memories of London’s stirring events. “The modern passenger through St. Paul’s Churchyard has not only the last home of Nelson and others to venerate as he goes by. In the ground of the old church were buried, and here therefore remains whatever dust may survive them, the gallant Sir Philip Sidney (the _beau idéal_ of the age of Elizabeth), and Vandyke, who immortalised the youth and beauty of the court of Charles the First. One of Elizabeth’s great statesmen also lay there--Walsingham--who died so poor that he was buried by stealth to prevent his body from being arrested. Another, Sir Christopher Hatton, who is supposed to have danced himself into the office of Her Majesty’s Chancellor, had a tomb which his contemporaries thought too magnificent, and which was accused of ‘shouldering the altar.’