full of pack horses, because this was one of the two highways to Westminster--Palace and Castle both. In spite of the narrowness, the mud, the dirt, and the inconvenience, the King Street which this visitor saw before him was far more picturesque than that which he had left behind. The houses rose up three and four stories high; gabled all, with projecting fronts, story above story, the timbers of the fronts painted and gilt, some of them with escutcheons hung in front, the richly blazoned arms brightening the narrow way; from a window here and there hung out a bit of colored cloth; some of the houses bore on their fronts a wealth of carven beams--some had signs hanging out; the men who lolled about the doors of the taverns wore bright liveries--those of King, Cardinal, Abbot, or great lord; in the windows above women and girls leaned out, talking and laughing with the men below; [Illustration: ROOM IN THE KING’S ARMS, TOTHILL STREET.] the sun (for it was nearly noon) shone straight up the street upon the stately Gate above and the stately Gate below, and upon the gilding, carving, and painting, and windows of the houses on either side. The street was full of color and of life: from the taverns came the tinkling of the mandolin, and now and then a lusty voice uplifted in a snatch of song--in Westminster the drinking, gambling, singing, and revelry went on all day and sometimes all night as well. Court and Camp and Church, all collected together on the Isle of Bramble, demanded, for their following, taverns innumerable and drink in oceans. The stranger, of whom no one took any notice, passing through the High Gate, found himself within the Abbey Precinct. “Is this,” he asked, “a separate city?” For before him and to the right and to the left there lay heaped together, as close as they could stand, groups and rows and streets of houses, mostly small tenements, mean and dirty in appearance. Only a clear space was left for the Church of St. Margaret’s and for the Porch to the Abbey Church, the north side of which was hidden by houses. On the right hand--that is, on the west side--the houses were grouped round a great stone structure, gloomy and terrible; farther on they opened out for the Gate House, which led into the fields and so across the meadows to the great highroad; and in the middle, opposite the west end of St. Margaret’s, there was a shapeless mass of erections comprising private houses and old stone buildings and chapels. On the left more houses, and under one a postern leading into New Palace Yard beyond. The place was full of people--men, women, and children. As the visitor threaded his way among the narrow lanes he became conscious of a curious [Illustration: THE GATE HOUSE]