warehouse; the hall was ruthlessly cut into two stories, while a covered flight of steps led up to the first; and in a print of the time the packer with a chest on his back is actually shown ascending. This flight was built against the beautiful oriel. One is tempted to expatiate long on this charming little corner and dainty bit of art, whose grace the true connoisseur will recognize and appreciate. Who could think of such a gem being found in an eating-house or restaurant? The grand hall thus has quite a baronial and banqueting appearance, and for exquisite detail and beauty “is one of the most perfect things domestic architecture ever produced.” It is said, indeed, that this building is the only existing remnant of the domestic architecture of old London, and dates from the year 1466. [Illustration: MONUMENT OF SIR WILLIAM PICKERING.] The two squares or “_Places_” adjoining, as they may be more properly called, are in their way full of a picturesque interest. Great St. Helen’s is a sort of surprise as we pass from the din and hurly-burly of the crowded street into its tranquil, secluded retirement, where all sounds seem distant or muffled. Round us are old houses of sound red brick, devoted to business, but with a snug “Cheeryble” air. On the left is an almshouse, not of much accommodation, with an inscription that it was founded by a Lord Mayor Judd, a name still of importance in the City. Opposite is a fine, handsomely-carved doorway, worthy of study, while at the farthest corner rises a much-grimed old mansion, a fine specimen of old brickwork, set off with pilasters and enriched capitals and tablets, after the pattern of Inigo Jones; within one of these is a fine old staircase of much effect. But in the centre is the old, well-known church itself--an aged, crumbling, sad-coloured, quaint-looking place, turning towards us the ends of its two forlorn aisles, rather bent or stooped with its years. Between these rises a poor, attenuated lantern, on which again is perched another, with quite an antique old-world air, and a certain tone of squalor in its two lanky windows. In front is a poorish strip of churchyard through which a walk has been cut, leading to a door. But on the right there is a fine, pretentious doorway, with its Jacobean, bold “flourishings”--a cherub with puffed cheeks, and fine mouldings, while the old timbers and bolts are still to be seen.