One of the pleasantest incidents in these London explorations is the sudden discovery of some quiet sequestered nook or corner, so sheltered and forgotten that the great hum and roar of the streets does not reach it. These agreeable surprises occur oftener than one would imagine, and in places where we would least dream of looking for them. Nowhere is the current of life and traffic so congested as on Ludgate Hill: the stream surges up and down the hill, yet here we come upon such an oasis. Turning out of Paternoster Row, and passing near its aorta, as we might almost style Stationers’ Hall Court, we stand before a red arch and gateway, quite modern, but not out of keeping. This is the entrance to Amen Court, happily named, a little sequestered square, where the canons of St. Paul’s live when they are “in residence.” Nothing more lazy, dreamy, or retired can be imagined. The hum of the City seems without, and shut out as by walls. The inclosure is quite monastic. You enter at one gate, pass round three sides of a square, and out by another. There is a central block of old, grimed, well-worn, and well-caked brick houses, in front of which spreads out a vast expanse of ground ivy, spread out like a carpet: who would think of or expect such a thing? There is a grass plot and flower beds and more old brick houses, with bits of shining brass on which are inscribed the canons’ names. Here is life dozed away; but the sound of the Cathedral bell reaches us. CHAPTER XIV. OLD SUBURBAN MANSIONS. It is always pleasant to see some old, well-preserved mansion, with its pictures and doorways in good condition, the attendant housekeeper directing attention in her prim “show-woman” way to the carvings by “_Grumbling Gibbons_” (a phrase once actually uttered). More grateful, however, is it to come by chance on some neglected, unsung mansion which is celebrated by no flourishings of housekeepers, and which lingers on in its modest seclusion. Such used to be Hoghton Tower in Lancashire, with its long-forsaken court and leaden statue in the centre, its terraces and balustrades, all sad and dilapidated, but now restored to its old uses. There are still to be found about London suburbs a few of the old and picturesque family mansions built in the days of King William or Queen Anne. These veterans of ripe, time-defying brick, spacious and even elegant in their proportions, excite more interest than many of us are able to explain. Some of the best have been levelled. A few still exist--usually altered and added to, for the use of schools or “institutions”; but not many of them are likely to last much longer.