In one of the little steep darkened lanes that descend towards Thames Street from Queen Victoria Street, Little Trinity Lane, we are attracted by a very remarkable doorway, richly carved and elaborate, yet strangely out of keeping with the poor mean house to which it is attached. This is The Painter-Stainers’ Hall, one of the most retired and least pretentious of the Halls, and yet, like many an unassuming person, recommended by extraordinary gifts. Entering a shabby room to the left, we find, as usual, a widow-like woman waiting her turn, while some one else is pressing her claims at the desk. The whole seems to have the air of a discounting office in a rather small way of business. The Painter “Stayners” have a legacy of £80,000 to administer, the interest of which supports some two hundred pensioners. Going up a rather rickety stair, we are introduced to the old Hall itself, a genuine thing enough, of suitable dinginess and subdued old fashion. It has unhappily been spoilt by thrusting an adjoining room into it, the wall being supported by pillars and arches. A quaint feature, too, is the door through which we have entered, a little low arch supported by pillars, over which projects a small balcony, where, as I was informed, the ladies sit during festivals. The panelled walls are covered with pictures, which are made to suit the panels, and thus seem to belong to the walls. There is a dark monastic air over the whole, and a curious, old-world, sequestered look. Here are held the little dinners of the society, “the Worshipful Company of Painters, otherwise Painter Stainers,” as they are careful to describe themselves, though, if not careful, one is apt to use the phrase “Paper Stainers.” The modest Hall was formerly more attractive than it is now, and the glories of its ceiling have long ago disappeared. The little corporation is highly interesting, as, previous to the founding of the Royal Academy, it was the body that represented the interests of English painters. Decorative painting, such as was largely employed in ornamenting carriages, ceilings, and barges, seems to have come under their supervision, and the society was occasionally invited to give a certificate as to whether such work was fitly executed.[20] Few could imagine what is the number of these City Companies; there are close upon eighty, each with its funds, officers, charities, and dinners. Only about one half are provided with Halls; the rest dine at restaurants or at one of the noted City taverns, where the invariable “Ring and Brymer” cater. Turtle is of course the City luxury, and one of the sights of the city is the aquarium at “The Ship and Turtle,” where may be seen through the glass from fifty to a hundred turtles at a time, paddling lazily about and waiting unconsciously the hour of sacrifice.