The author of "The Old City" (London, 1865), a work to which we have been indebted for some of the particulars included in this paper, adverts to a curious tract published on the day the cross was destroyed. It bears the following title: "The Downfall of Dagon; or, the taking down of Cheapside Crosse; wherein is contained these principalls: 1. The crosse sicke at heart. 2. His death and funerall. 3. His will, legacies, inventory, and epitaph. 4. Why it was removed. 5. The money it will bring. 6. Noteworthy, that it was cast down on that day when it was first invented and set up." An extract or two from this publication can hardly fail to interest the reader. "I am called the 'Citie Idoll,'" says the tract, "the Brownists spit at me, and throw stones at me; the Famalists hide their eyes with their fingers; the Anabaptists wish me knockt in pieces, as I am to be this day; the sisters of the fraternity will not come near me, but go by Watling Street, and come in again by Soaper Lane, to buy provisions of the market folks.... I feele the pangs of death, and shall never see the end of the merry month of May; my breath stops--my life is gone; I feel myself a-dying downards." The bequests embrace the following: "I give my iron work to those which make good swords at Hounslow, for I am Spanish iron and steele to the backe. I give my body and stones to those masons that cannot telle how to frame the like againe, to keep by theme for a patterne, for in time there will be more crosses in London than ever there was yet." The epitaph is as follows: "I looke for no praise when I am dead, For, going the right way, I never did tread. I was harde as an Alderman's doore, That's shut and stony-hearted to the poore. I never gave almes, nor did anything Was good, nor e'er said, 'God save the King.' I stood like a stock that was made of wood, And yet the people would not say I was good, And, if I tell them plaine, they're like to mee-- Like stone to all goodnesse. But now, reader, see Me in the dust; for crosses must not stand, There is too much crosse tricks within the land; And, having so done never any good, I leave my prayse for to be understood; For many women, after this my losse, Will remember me, and still will be crosse-- Crosse tricks, crosse ways, and crosse vanities. Believe the crosse speaks truth, for here he lyes." The Biddenden Maids Charity. For several centuries, the strange story of the Biddenden Maids, was told by sire to son, and, in course of time, was made the subject of a broadside, which has become rare, and is much prized by collectors of historical curiosities. The tale is to the effect that, in the year of our Lord, 1100, at the village of Biddenden, in the county of Kent, were born Eliza and Mary Chulkhurst, commonly called "The Biddenden Maids." It is asserted that the sisters were joined together by the hips and shoulders.