keep, the royal galleries and rooms, the Mint, the Jewelhouse, the Wardrobe, the Queen's Garden, St. Peter's Church, the Open Green, the Constable's Tower, the Brick Tower (in which the master of the ordnance lived), the Great Hall, quarters for the archers and bowmen, and, in later days, the Lieutenant's House.

16. This Ward was flanked and covered by twelve strong works built on the wall, and forming part of it. Only one gateway pierced the wall--a narrow and embattled outlet near the Water Gate, passing under the strong block-house into Water Lane. The road springs upward by the main guard, a rise of one in ten, so as to give the men inside a vast advantage in a push of pikes. This Inner Ward was the royal quarter.

17. The Outer Ward, which owed its plan and most of its execution to Henry III., lay between the ballium and the outer scarp of the ditch, with a protected passage into the Thames. Into it opened the Hall Tower, afterwards called the Record Tower, now known as the Jewel-house. Close by the Hall Tower stood the Great Hall, the doors of which opened into this outer court. Spanning the ditch towards the Thames, stood the Water Gáte, a fine structure built by Henry the Builder, which folk called St. Thomas' Tower, after our Saxon saint. Under this building sprang the wide arch, through which the tides flowed in and out from the river and the ditch-the waterway known as Traitor's Gate. This Outer Ward was the folk's quarter.

18. To the Inner Ward common folk had no right of access, and they were rarely allowed to enjoy as a privilege that which they could not claim as a right. This Inner Ward was the king's castle, his palace, his garrison, his wardrobe, his treasury. Here, under charge of a trusty officer, he kept the royal jewels secreted from every eye except on a coronation day. Here rose his keep, with the dungeons in which he could chain his foes. Here stood his private chapel, and not far from it his private block. No man ever dreamt of contesting the king's right to do what he pleased in this quarter; and

thus, an execution within these lines was regarded by the world outside as little better than a private murder.

19. Into the Outer Ward the Commons had always claimed a right of entry, and something more than a right of entry -that is to say, free access guarded by possession of the outer gates and towers. This right of entry was enforced on stated occasions.-Hepworth Dixon (1821-1879)

When the sad soul, by care and grief opprest,
Looks round the world, but looks in vain, for rest;
When every object that appears in view,
Partakes her gloom, and seems dejected too;

Where shall affliction from itself retire?

Where fade away, and placidly expire?

Alas! we fly to silent scenes in vain,

Care blasts the honours of the flowery plain:

Care veils in clouds the sun's meridian beam,
Sighs through the grove and murmurs in the stream;
For when the soul is labouring in despair,

In vain the body breathes a purer air:

No storm-tossed sailor sighs for slumbering seas,
He dreads the tempest, but invokes the breeze;
On the smooth mirror of the deep resides
Reflected woe, and o'er unruffled tides
The ghost of every former danger glides.
Thus in the calms of life we only see
A steadier image of our misery;
But lively gales and gently-clouded skies,
Disperse the sad reflections as they rise;
And busy thoughts and little cares avail
To ease the mind, when rest and reason fail.
When the dull thought, by no designs employed,
Dwells on the past, or suffered or enjoyed,
We bleed anew in every former grief,
And joys departed furnish no relief.
Not hope herself, with all her flattering art,
Can cure this stubborn sickness of the heart;
The soul disdains each comfort she prepares,
And anxious searches for congenial cares;

Those lenient cares which, with our own combined,
By mixed sensations ease the afflicted mind,
And steal our grief away, and leave their own behind;
A lighter grief! which feeling hearts endure
Without regret, nor even demand a cure.
But what strange art, what magic can dispose
The troubled mind to change its native woes?
Or lead us willing from ourselves, to see

Others more wretched, more undone than we?
This books can do;-nor this alone; they give
New views to life, and teach us how to live;
They soothe the grieved, the stubborn they chastise,
Fools they admonish, and confirm the wise:
Their aid they yield to all; they never shun

The man of sorrow, nor the wretch undone;
Unlike the hard, the selfish, and the proud,
They fly not sullen from the suppliant crowd;
Nor tell to various people various things,
But show to subjects what they show to kings.
-George Crabbe (1754–1832)

THE ACQUIREMENT OF KNOWLEDGE.

1. As civilization has gradually progressed, it has equalized the physical qualities of man. Instead of the strong arm, it is the strong head that is now the moving principle of society. You have disenthroned force, and placed on her high seat intelligence; and the necessary consequence of this great revolution is, that it has become the duty and the delight equally of every citizen to cultivate his faculties. The prince of all philosophy has told you, in an immortal apophthegm so familiar to you all that it is written now in your halls and chambers, "Knowledge is power." If that memorable passage had been pursued by the student who first announced this discovery of that great man to society, he would have found an oracle not less striking, and in my mind certainly not less true; for Lord Bacon has not only said that "knowledge is power," but living one century after the discovery of the printing-press, he has also announced to the world that "knowledge is pleasure."

2. Why, when the great body of mankind had become familiar with this great discovery-when they learned that a new source of influence and enjoyment was opened to them, is it wonderful that, from that hour the heart of nations has palpitated with the desire of becoming acquainted with all that has happened, and with speculating on what may occur. It has indeed produced upon the popular intellect an influence almost as great as I might say analogous to the great change which was produced upon the whole commercial world by the

discovery of the Americas. A new standard of value was introduced, and, after this, to be distinguished, man must be intellectual.

3. Nor, indeed, am I surprised that this feeling has so powerfully influenced our race; for the idea that human happiness is dependent on the cultivation of the mind, and on the discovery of truth, is, next to the conviction of our immortality, the idea the most full of consolation to man; for the cultivation of the mind has no limits, and truth is the only thing that is eternal. Indeed, when you consider what a man is, who knows only what is passing under his own eyes, and what the condition of the same man must be, who belongs to an institution like the one which has assembled us together to-night, is it-ought it to be a matter of surprise that, from that moment to the present, you have had a general feeling throughout the civilized world in favour of the diffusion of knowledge?

4. A man who knows nothing but the history of the passing hour, who knows nothing of the history of the past, but that a certain person, whose brain was as vacant as his own, occupied the same house as himself, who in a moment of despondency or of gloom has no hope in the morrow, because he has read nothing that has taught him that the morrow has any changes-that man, compared with him who has read the most ordinary abridg ment of history, or the most common philosophical specu lation, is as distinct and different an animal as if he had fallen from some other planet, was influenced by a different organization, working for a different end, and hoping for a different result.

5. It is knowledge that equalizes the social condition of man—that gives to all, however different their political position, passions which are in common, and enjoyments which are universal. Knowledge is like the mystic ladder in the patriarch's dream. Its base rests on the primeval earth, its crest is lost in the shadowy splendour of the empyrean; while the great authors who for traditionary ages have held the chain of science and philosophy,