Mr. Thomas Harris of this City Founder of these Five Alms-Houses hath endowed them with Marly Farm in Kent for the Maintenance of five Poor Familys for ever. Ingoldsby--the Reverend Richard Harris Barham--became a governor of this charity on his attaining his majority, as already alluded to in the sketch of his birth and career. The district of Wincheap only becomes tolerable after leaving the railway behind. This outlying part, without the city walls, was of old that place of degradation where the scourgings and stripes, the whips and scorpions of mediæval punishments, were inflicted; where offending books--ay, and the horror of it, the Protestant martyrs--were burnt of yore. In this "Potter's Field" that is not now more than a struggling little suburb where all the littlenesses of life are prominent, and few of its beauties are to be seen, there has of late been erected a great granite memorial pillar, surmounted by the "Canterbury Cross," on the site of the stake at which forty-one victims of the Marian persecution perished. Shackle and stake, faggot and gyve, rivet and torch, how busy they were! It is a beautiful sentiment that rears this monument on the spot where they suffered who testified for Jesus; but it should stand, plain for all men to see, in the Cathedral Close itself. Our course from this point into the city leads up to the Castle, mentioned in the Legends, and especially in that early one, "The Ghost," in whose stanzas are found many exquisitely apposite local Canterbury touches. That Castle is, in its secular way, as interesting as the Cathedral in its ecclesiastical: The Castle was a huge and antique mound, Proof against all the artillery of the quiver, Ere those abominable guns were found, To send cold lead through gallant warrior's liver. It stands upon a gently-rising ground, Sloping down gradually to the river, Resembling (to compare great things with smaller) A well-scoop'd, mouldy Stilton cheese--but taller. The Keep, I find, 's been sadly alter'd lately, And, 'stead of mail-clad knights, of honour jealous, In martial panoply so grand and stately, Its walls are fill'd with money-making fellows, And stuff'd, unless I'm misinformed greatly, With leaden pipes, and coke, and coals, and bellows, In short, so great a change has come to pass, 'Tis now a manufactory of Gas. [Illustration: CANTERBURY CASTLE.]