Here, therefore, we learn of two strange sisters of gigantic stature who, in the conveniently vague period of “once upon a time,” lived on these opposite banks of the Thames. One is almost ashamed to repeat the stupid tale of their having agreed to build the towers of the respective churches, and having only one hammer between them, being accustomed to throw it across from one to the other when required. When the sister on the Fulham side needed the hammer, she asked the other to throw it over “full home.” When it was returned, it was flung with a will, in response to the request “put nigh!” The flinging back and forth with every stone bedded must have been very wearing, and the shouting terrific. At last the hammer got broken, and had it not been for the help of a blacksmith up-river, who promptly mended it, the building must have ceased. Of course you guess where this kindly craftsman lived. Where else than at the place ever after called, in memory of him, “Hammersmith”? The expansion of Putney from the likeness to a country village which it wore until quite recent times well within the memory of many who do not yet call themselves old, dates from the completion of the new and commonplace bridge that spans the river here in five flattened arches, and is seven hundred feet in length, and cost over £240,000. Handbooks and guides of various sorts will tell those who know nothing about it that the old wooden bridge which this replaced in 1886 was “ugly and inconvenient.” The inconvenience we may readily enough grant, but no artist who ever knew old Putney Bridge will agree to its having been ugly. Indeed, so picturesque was it, in its maze of timbering, that every one who knew it, and at the same time owned the artistic sense, bitterly regretted its clearing away to give place to the present commonplace, though convenient, stone structure. Old Putney Bridge was the first to span the river between Fulham and Putney, and was originally projected in 1671. The proposal to build a bridge here was in the first stage discussed in Parliament, and there met with such opposition and ridicule that the scheme failed and was not revived until 1722, finally meeting with the approval of the House and receiving the Royal sanction in the early part of 1726. It is well worth while, after that space of time, to recover some of the discussion in 1671 respecting the providing of a bridge in place of the immemorially old ferry. It was not only honest ridicule, but also a good deal of the fear and jealousy felt by “vested interests,” that at first prevented a bridge being built here. And what person, or what corporate body, think you, was threatened so seriously by a bridge between Putney and Fulham? The owner of the ferry? the local watermen? my Lord Bishop of London, whose palace was and still is, on yonder bank? None of these were in such near prospect of being overwhelmed; but it would appear that the great, ancient, and prosperous