Proceeding up the High Street, we crossed into St. Peter’s Street by “God Begot” House. This was a fashionable quarter in the Stuart days. The Royal Hotel stands on a site where was a nunnery twenty years since. We come to the office of the Probate Court, a new looking building, which has old walls. At the south side of it we see a leaden pipe with E.G. 1684, on it--supposed to stand for Eleanor Gwynne. An old staircase remains at the top of this house. The original building was much larger, the centre has been taken down, but the other wing remains. We may gain some idea of how handsome it once was by looking at the next ivy-mantled mansion--a structure of about the same date, with a fine staircase. We now come to the Roman Catholic Chapel, and examine the arched entrance--the only relic remaining of Magdalen Hospital, founded 1174. In the porch I called attention to the “Druidical” stone. “But some say that the monoliths in this Itchen valley have more connection with drifts than with Druids,” observed Mr. Hertford. “Yes, and take away the poor things’ character,” I replied. “Why should we try to dive into the mud and gravel that lie beneath our fancies?” Close by, standing back in a garden, is the “White House,” which is also of Stuart date, and has a handsome staircase and panelled room. All these houses were probably occupied by Charles II.’s courtiers. Milner says that the Duchess of Portsmouth had a house at the south end of this street. [Sidenote: Middle Brooks.] [Illustration: Middle Brook.] From the end of Peter’s Street we turned down the City Road, and passing by “Upper Brooks,” where there are more monoliths, soon entered, on the right hand, Middle Brooks--so called from the stream flowing along it, which in the memory of old people ran down its centre. Here we came to a remarkable edifice, built of flints, and of a somewhat “gingerbread” character--a miniature castle with two towers. It forms a couple of houses, and the tenant of the nearer one told us that the building was called the Hermitage. It is nearly one hundred years old, and formed out of the materials of Swathling House,[97] which belonged to Mr. Erle, and stood between Winchester and Southampton. The front room, which we were invited to enter, is lined with panelling--covered with paint, I regret to say, for it is of walnut wood--and in some places adorned with gold and colours. Round the ceiling there is a “tongue and udder” moulding, and there is also carving round the door. The young tenant pointed out to us an old engraving on canvas, “The Bloody Sentence of Christ,” which, he said, had been two hundred years in his family. There was a note beneath it to say it had been taken from a stone in Vienna.