to hallow and preserve our antiquities, to soften our manners, to give us tranquillity, patience, and tolerance, to make our country loveable for our own hearts, and so to enable us to bequeath it, sure of love and reverence, to succeeding ages. Illustration: "The Sign of the Swan." CHAPTER VI THE PALACE OF WESTMINSTER The American who, having been a careful and interested reader of English history, visits London for the first time, half expects to find the ancient city in a state of mild decay; and consequently he is a little startled at first, upon realising that the present is quite as vital as ever the past was, and that London antiquity is, in fact, swathed in the robes of everyday action and very much alive. When, for example, you enter Westminster Hall--"the great hall of William Rufus"--you are beneath one of the most glorious canopies in the world--one that was built by Richard the Second, whose grave, chosen by himself, is in the Abbey, just across the street from where you stand. But this old hall is now only a vestibule to the palace of Westminster. The Lords and the Commons of England, on their way to the Houses of Parliament, pass every day over the spot on which Charles the First was tried and condemned, and on which occurred the trial of Warren Hastings. Illustration: "Westminster Hall." It is a mere thoroughfare--glorious though it be, alike in structure and historic renown. The Palace Yard, near by, was the scene of the execution of Sir Walter Raleigh. In Bishopsgate Street stands Crosby House; the same to which, in Shakespeare's tragedy, the Duke of Gloster requests the retirement of Lady Anne. It is a restaurant now, and you may dine in the veritable throne-room of Richard the Third. The house of Cardinal Wolsey in Fleet Street is now a shop. Milton once lived in Golden Lane, and Golden Lane was a sweet and quiet spot. It is a dingy and dismal street now, and the visitor is glad to get out of it. To-day makes use of yesterday, all the world over. It is not in London, certainly, that you find anything--except old churches--mouldering in silence, solitude, and neglect. Those who see every day during the Parliamentary session the mace that is borne through the lobby of the House of Commons, although they are obliged, on every occasion, to uncover as it passes, do not, probably, view that symbol with much interest. Yet it is the same mace that Oliver Cromwell insulted¹ when he dissolved the Parliament and cried out, "Take away that bauble!" ¹ An error. The House of Commons has had three maces. The first one disappeared after the judicial slaughter of Charles the First. The Cromwell mace was carried to the island of Jamaica, and is there preserved in a museum at Kingston. The third is the one now in use. Illustration: "The Mace."