Mr. Loftie has written: “Of St. George’s in the East there is not much to be said.” He refers to the church, but even this, one of Hawksmoor’s chief works, is rather too lightly disposed of. Of the parish there is indeed much to tell. No other church in London can boast of nineteenth-century riots continued Sunday after Sunday for eighteen months, necessitating the presence of police in the sacred building. No other parish ever contained a Danish and a Swedish church, with the bones of Emmanuel Swedenborg. St. George’s is in touch with all corners of the globe, for the London Docks contain countless stores of treasures from the east and the west, the north and the south. Here several of the chief of those commonly known as the “broad churchmen” of the day have served as curates; and here the famous life of Father Lowder was lived for twenty-four years, while the famous church of St. Peter’s, London Docks, arose in the southern part of the parish,—Father Lowder, of whom the Rev. Harry Jones, in a memorial sermon, has said: “He was simply fearless.... He ever meant what he said, and said what he meant.... The mention of him meets the most sacred moods of the soul.” And the pioneer garden is still unique in being an amalgamation of a churchyard and a dissenting burial-ground. How different it is from what it was once like may be gathered from the following description in _Household Words_ of November 16, 1850: “The graveyard was dank and clayey, and air blew coldly through the masts and rigging of the shipping moored in the Thames and the Docks.” The curate comes to the parish, the curate who eventually built Christ Church, Watney Street, dispirited and discouraged. He had fancied it was to St. George’s, Hanover Square, he was going! And “the occasional funeral duty of the country was changed for the constant day by day, week by week, repetitions of a gorged London graveyard,” to which “the close courts and poverty-stricken streets of his parish sent every year many hundred tenants.” Then the churchyard, like all the others in London, was closed, and became the usual useless cat-walk, with high walls around, and blackening tombstones, until the day when those negotiations began which resulted in the present charming garden. And this is a story which has now been repeated in every division of London.