The London guilds and companies; the London merchant princes; the London marts and markets; the London granaries for corn; the public exchanges, built for the accommodation of money-brokers and traders long before Gresham's time; the London port, wharfs, and docks, crowded with ships of all countries, laden with treasures from all climes; the London streets, many of which still bear the names of the trades to which they were allotted, and the mercantile purposes for which they were employed:--all these, which form so large a part of the materials, and supply so great a portion of the scenes of London history, are essentially commercial, and bring before us the progress of that industrial spirit, which, with all its failings and faults, has contributed so largely to the welfare and happiness of modern society. The history of London is a history of English literature. Time would fail to tell of all the memorials of genius with which London abounds; memorials of poets, philosophers, historians, and divines, who have there been born, and lived, and studied, and toiled, and suffered, and died. No spot in the world, perhaps, is so rich in associations connected with the history of great minds. There is scarcely one of the old streets through which you ramble, or one of the old churches which you enter, but forthwith there come crowding over the mind of the well-informed, recollections of departed genius, greatness, or excellence. The history of London is the history of the British constitution and laws. There thicken round it most of the great political conflicts between kings and barons, and lords and commons; between feudalism and modern liberty; between the love of ancient institutions and the spirit of progress, from which, under God, have sprung our civil government and social order. The history of London is the history of our religion, both in its corrupted and in its purified forms. Early was it a grand seat of Romish worship; numerous were its religious foundations in the latter part of the mediæval age. Here councils have been held, convocations have assembled, controversies were waged, and truth exalted or depressed. Smithfield and St. Paul's Churchyard are inseparably associated with the Reformation. The principles proclaimed from the stone pulpit of the one could not be destroyed by the fires that blazed round the stakes of the other. The history of the Protestant Establishment ever since is involved in that of our city; places connected with its grand events, its advocates, and its ornaments, are dear to the hearts of its attached children; while other spots in London, little known to fame, are linked to the memory of the Puritans, and while reverently traced out by those who love them, are regarded as hallowed ground.