Waltham, or Wealdham, from the Saxon “a dwelling near the forest,” an ancient and quaint market town, lies on the great North road. Tovi, standard-bearer to Canute, after building a few houses, set up a church here in the 11th century in which the Holy Rood, accredited with miraculous power, was guarded by priests. Dugdale in his _Monasticon_ states that Harold, when visiting Waltham, was healed of the palsy, and, being overcome with gratitude, granted lands and endowments to the priests, increased their number, rebuilt the church, and set up an establishment for the furtherance of learning. Harold is supposed to have been buried in Waltham Abbey after the battle of Senlac, “in confirmation of which it is stated that in the reign of Elizabeth a rich grey marble tomb was discovered, and from the pillarets which support the cross fleury upon it, little doubt exists that it covered the remains of the ill-fated Harold and his brothers” (Cassell’s _Gazetteer_). This was situated at the end of the church near the altar, and two inscriptions are ascribed to it, one of which is half a dozen lines of Latin, the other, more simple and consequently impressive, consists of two words, “Harold infelix.” The tomb was destroyed in 1540. The venerable church was founded by a king of England; deprived of many of its valuables by the Norman Conqueror; firmly established by the Plantagenets--receiving both from Henry II. and Henry III. peculiar marks of favour--and finally was overwhelmed by Henry VIII. It is said that this monarch once visited the abbey in disguise, and after faring well on the sirloin of beef set before him by the abbot, the latter observed that he would give the king £100 if he too could enjoy his food, and lamented the state of his digestion which even prevented him from enjoying the breast of a chicken. Shortly after this the abbot was forcibly taken to London and lodged in the Tower, where he for some time enjoyed only bread and water for sustenance. At length a sirloin of beef was brought, upon which he fed in a most hearty manner. At this point King Henry strode into his cell and demanded £100, to which request the unfortunate abbot very reluctantly was obliged to concede. Apart from its old associations, the town of the present day is of no special interest. Its streets are crooked and narrow and there is no particularly attractive feature about either the town or the exterior of the abbey church--one mile distant from the station. The present edifice of Norman origin, and dedicated to St Mary and St Lawrence, has been restored at various times since the Dissolution.