In spite of the cheapening and vulgarising of the Tower by Governments and State officials, it retains a surprising hold on the people. Even the mill-hands of Lancashire, surging up to London to witness a football “cup-tie,” think their visit to London incomplete until they have walked through the Tower. But whatever impressions may be on their minds when they have “done” the building, these impressions are rudely brushed away in the subsequent excitement at Sydenham. It would be interesting to hear their reply to the question, “And what did you think of the Tower of London?” when they returned to their friends and relations in the North-country. It would certainly give an excellent idea of the result of years of School Board education, of free-library reading, and a visit to the actual scene of historic events. The cell where Raleigh wrote is looked upon with lack-lustre eye by the youth whose one idea of literature is the football edition of the evening papers. The Tower itself is the most precious jewel in the nation’s Crown. It is the epitome of English history. From the Norman Conquest to the day that has just dawned we have something here to remind us of our storied past. It might be the most interesting spot in England to young and to old alike. In these days of rush and turmoil and ceaseless activities, it might be the one corner of modern London where the present is quelled in its noise, and stayed in its hurry, to contemplate the past. These buildings might well be revered by those who are hardly yet conscious of their value; they, at least, might be spared the impertinent aggressions of to-day. A commercial age has committed one unforgivable crime in pulling down Crosby Hall to erect a bank, and we may well ask ourselves if the Tower itself is safe from such vandalism. Again, it is want of imagination. Our city magnates can appreciate a bank, with its hideous granite pillars and its vapid ornamentations, but an ancient hall which Shakespeare has touched with his magic pen is of no “practical” use, mark you! It is a result of the detestable gospel of get-on-or-get-out, and as our old buildings are incapable of going-on they must go-out. Our fear may well be lest the modernising of the Tower, and the erection within the walls of wholly characterless piles that would be considered unworthy of place even in a rising suburb, will in time destroy our sense of the value of any of the buildings bequeathed to us from earliest times. Little by little the boys of to-day, who will be the citizens of the day after to-morrow, will come to look at the Tower as a very ill-painted showroom, or as none too spacious a place to accommodate a garrison. It must, we may hear them say when they become men of importance, either be brought up to date as an exhibition of antiquities, or be rebuilt to meet increasing military requirements. All this is conceivable; few things are held sacred nowadays, as we know to our sorrow.