had already done were all too little, they go on in their horrible wickedness, they seize upon all the communion plate, the Bibles and service books, rich hangings, large cushions of velvet, all the pulpit cloths, some whereof were of cloth of silver, some of cloth of gold. And now, having ransacked the church, and defied God in His own house and the king in his own statue, having violated the urns of the dead, having abused the bones and scattered the ashes of deceased monarchs, bishops, saints, and confessors, they return in triumph bearing their spoils with them. The troopers (because they were the most conspicuous) ride through the streets in surplices with such hoods and tippets as they found, and that they might boast to the world how glorious a victory they had achieved they hold out their trophies to all spectators, for the troopers thus clad in the priests’ vestments, rode carrying Common Prayer books in one hand and some broken organ pipes, together with the mangled pieces of carved work in the other.”[69] “The last part of your narrative makes me feel melancholy,” said Miss Hertford. “Let us go into the fresh air and see the Cathedral which has survived these Goths and Vandals.” [Sidenote: The Square.] We accordingly made our way down the High Street, and proceeded through the passage by the Butter Cross. Passing through the Square, we stopped before entering the graveyard to visit Mr. Chalkley’s, the taxidermist’s--which may be regarded as a kind of “dead-alive” place. Here are the beautiful remains of natives of many sunny climes. Can we suppose that such little beings with cherub wings and voices are-- “Denied in heaven the souls they held on earth”? Opposite we observed the Mechanics Institute, on the site of which--then at the south side of the Market--there was, until 1790, an anomalous building--a butchery below, a theatre above. There were plenty of stalls here, containing, not cushions, but meat, and along them and at the corners stood strong oaken columns, while hooks for joints were fastened into the rafters which supported the floor of the theatre. Warton humorously describes this strange combination-- “Divided only by one flight of stairs The monarch swaggers and the butcher swears! Quick the transition when the curtain drops From meek Monimia’s moans to mutton chops! While for Lothario’s loss Lavinia cries, Old women scold and dealers d---- your eyes. Cleavers and scimitars give blow for blow, And heroes bleed above and sheep below! Cow-horns and trumpets mix their martial tones, Kidneys and kings, mouthing and marrow bones.”