It needs time and much study to appreciate this sad old church, which, in spite of its broken pieces of marble, and ruined splendor and perfection of form, still bravely stands,--a lonely and pathetic relic of its grand past. A young person can scarcely understand it at all; it needs a grown man or woman whose experience enables him to read in the crumbling pillars and walls, stories of the times when England was young, the Church was the great glory and power, and there still lived men who were "fair and fortunate." In the vicinity of Smithfield are a number of quaint nooks and corners of old London. Many consider that the very best idea of the ancient city may now be had in Cloth Fair and Bartholomew Close, both of which are in this neighborhood. Here are still standing genuine Sixteenth Century houses amid much darkness and dirt. "Here in Bartholomew Close," stated Mrs. Pitt, "Benjamin Franklin learned his trade of printing, and Washington Irving, John Milton, and the painter Hogarth, all lived." From Smithfield they hastily betook themselves, by means of hansoms, to Crosby Hall, there to have luncheon. Mrs. Pitt laughed heartily when John said how glad he was to be able to eat amid ancient surroundings. He declared that he had been spending the entire morning so very far back in the Middle Ages, that it would have been too great a shock had he been taken immediately to a vulgar, modern restaurant. When they had finished their luncheon and were waiting on a street corner for the arrival of a certain bus, suddenly a thrill of excitement went through the crowd, all traffic was quickly drawn up at the sides of the street where it halted, and a weird cry of "Hi-yi-yi-yi-yi" was heard in the distance. "It's the fire-brigade," cried Philip, whereupon he and John were tense with anticipation. Down the cleared street came the galloping horses with the fire-engines, the men clinging to them wearing dark-blue uniforms with red bindings, big brass helmets, which gleamed in the sunshine, and hatchets in their belts. It happened that the fire was very near where our friends were standing, so at the eager solicitations of the two boys, Mrs. Pitt consented to follow on and watch operations. "So it really is a fire this time," she said to Betty, as they hurried along. "We have very, very few in London, and when the brigade is out, it is generally only for exercise or practice. But, it will interest you and John to see how we fight a fire, and to observe whether the methods differ from yours." A building on Bishopsgate Street was really very much on fire when the party reached the spot, and the firemen were hard at work. Although the buildings are not high (or at least not according to American standards), the men use very strong ladders, which can be pulled out so that they will reach to great heights. But the queerest thing of all in John's estimation was the way in which the people on the top floor of the building were rescued.