occasion, at the return of every tide, a fall of five feet, or temporary cataracts, which, "since the foundation of the bridge," to use his own words, "have occasioned the loss of many thousand lives." He adds: "I well remember the street on London Bridge-narrow, darksome, and dangerous to passengers from the multitude of carriages passing; frequent arches of strong timber crossed the street from the tops of the houses to keep them together, and from falling into the river." The shops attached to these houses during the sixteenth century were chiefly for the sale of pins and needles. Although pins, such as are now called by that name, were not invented till 1543, yet the ladies previously used something answering the same purpose, and by the same name-chiefly skewers of bone. A Pinners' Company existed at an early period, which yielded finally to a more modern guild called the Pinmakers, incorporated 1636; both of which worshipful crafts, however, are now no more existent. Fuller informs us that Spanish needles were first made here by a negro in Cheapside, but he unfortunately died without having communicated the mystery of their manufacture. There was great lamentation by the ladies, if not at his loss, at the loss of these useful implements. A German, however, more generous and provident, having in the reign of Queen Elizabeth acquired the art, taught the method to the English-no doubt for a good consideration. Fuller's etymology of the word needle is not bad; it is "quasi NE IDLE.”

An order of the Common Council of the year 1276 reads very strangely in our day. It is to the effect that "no markets shall be holden on London Bridge," and that "no persons shall pass from the City to Southwark, to buy cattle, or other wares which may be obtained in the City, under the penalty of forfeiting to the sheriffs the said cattle or wares so purchased." Passengers in our day bitterly complain of the block-up" so frequent on the present bridge, notwithstanding its magnitude, and the existence of very many others for the public convenience. But let us imagine its width at only forty feet, out of this a great portion taken for two rows of houses and shops, and then, in the narrow space remaining, the existence of a "market;" and we cannot wonder at the good people of London coming to the conclusion that, owing to the increase in the City's traffic, it is found that OLD LONDON BRIDGE is not sufficiently commodious, and that all erections whatever, whether houses, shops, or warehouses, be forthwith removed to add to the public convenience. This resolve, in sooth, was taken in 1746, and at one fell swoop away went shops, houses, and even Peter the Architect's beautiful Gothic chapel, with its marble columns, arched recesses, and Peter's own marble tomb.

"Sic transit gloria mundi."

We have already described Peter's grand old bridge as having become, in Pennant's time, a "narrow, darksome, and dangerous street" yet Stow describes it as being, in his day, a wide street. At any rate, it must have displayed a plentiful lack of taste for any one voluntarily to have selected such a spot as the site of a residence. The danger was, undoubtedly, very great; the backs of all the houses overhung the river, and all the back-windows overlooked the same, which was at all times a violent torrent-or, as Pennant terms it, "a series of cataracts, with a noise, night and day, almost terrific. Nothing but use," he adds, "could have enabled the inhabitants to obtain any rest; but they soon grew deaf to the sound of the falling waters, the clamour of watermen, or the frequent shrieks of drowning wretches." What a fearful notion of the danger of these habitations does the romantic account of Osborne's celebrated adventure give us, although, in his case, daring was rewarded by success, and his humanity paved the way by which his descendants have secured a ducal crown! We have probably all heard of the incident referred to, and how a poor London apprentice, by rescuing his master's child from the waters, became the founder of a ducal family. As the narrative is illustrative of our subject-showing, as it does, the dreadful character of the locality and the great danger to the inmates-we will briefly relate it. About the year 1536 one of the occupants of these frightful abodes was a wealthy clothworker, Hewet by name. He had an only daughter, who was, of course, as the story goes, everything that was lovely and beautiful. Her maid, one day, in playing with this child at the open window, accidentally dropped her from her arms into the torrent beneath. Young Edward Osborne, from Ashford in Kent, Hewet's apprentice, witnessing the sad misfortune, sprang instantly after the child into the boiling torrent, battled manfully with the waters, grasped the unconscious child, and by a miracle succeeded in bringing, her back in safety to her distracted father. Neither of these three persons, we fancy, ever forgot this day. The father loved the lad for his noble conduct; the girl would naturally feel a deepened interest in her daily companion and preserver; and the hero of the scene was content that he had saved the life of his master's child. It is not to be wondered at that, when the child had arrived at womanhood, she regarded her deliverer with something more than esteem. Her good father prospered and grew more wealthy daily. He became Sir William Hewet, Alderman of Vintry Ward, Sheriff in 1552, and in 1559 Mayor, being the first

clothworker raised to that eminence. Stow tells us that at an early age the lady had many admirers, and several of high rank, amongst the number being the Earl of Shrewsbury, who sought her in marriage. But Sir William Hewet, to his honour, preferred his former apprentice to them all, and decided in favour of one who, in good truth, had the highest claim upon her regard. When pressed by the Earl, his reply was characteristic. "Osborne," said he, bluntly, "saved her, and Osborne shall enjoy her."

-

The descendants of this happy alliance have been ever proud of this romantic episode, and the rescue of the child from the water figures prominently in their genealogies. This fortunate and brave apprentice, like the lady's father, rose to distinction in the great city, being Sheriff of London 1575, and Mayor 1582, with a knighthood, and was Alderman of Candlewick Ward. The grandson of this happy marriage, Sir Edward Osborne, became a leading man amongst the great Yorkshire families, and was created by King James I. a baronet, in 1620. At the breaking-out of the civil wars he was appointed Vice-President of the North, and Lieutenant-General of the King's Forces in the North. He lost his eldest son by a sad accident, the narration of which forms the opening passage of Sir Henry Slingsby's diary, as follows: "It was upon the last of October that sad accident happened which deprived Sir Edward Osborne, the Vice-President, of his eldest son, in the year 1638. Great winds continued most part of this month, but chiefly upon that day on which Osborne's son was slain; for being at his study that morning with a Frenchman that taught him French, his father going to Kerton, and his mother only that morning gone to Londesboro to my Lord Clifford's, about ten of the clock, the wind blew down, with great violence, seven chimney-shafts upon the roof of that chamber in the manor-house, where he was at study, and by the fall of them all the rotten piece of building was beat down, wherein he was found dead and buried in a heap of rubbish. The Frenchman saved himself, being at the window-side, so he received small hurts. The youth was much lamented for those hopes he gave, being then but of the age of seventeen years. When my wife was told of this accident, it did much trouble her, as she had reason, he being so near to her as her sister's son. She would not let me rest till I had pulled down a chimney that stood on the garden-side at Red House, which was high-built, and shaken with the wind." Poor Sir Henry, the writer of this extract, had married a sister of Lady Osborne, they both being daughters of Lord Bellasye. Sir Henry having plotted the return of Charles II. too soon, he was beheaded at Tower Hill, by order of Cromwell, in 1658, notwithstanding the influence of his nephew, Lord Falconberg, Cromwell's son-in-law. The brother of this unfortunate young Osborne, being great-grandson of the brave apprentice, succeeded to the baronetcy, and on the 18th of August,

1675, was raised to the peerage by the title of Viscount Latimer and Baron Kiveton, of the county of York, and next year was promoted to be Earl of Danby. In 1680 he became Marquis of Carmarthen, and in 1694 Duke of Leeds. Pennant states that he had seen at Kiveton, the seat of the Duke of Leeds, a half-length portrait, on board, of Edward Osborne's father-in-law, Sir William Hewet; his dress was a black gown furred, a red vest and sleeve, a gold chain, and a bonnet. He died in 1566, before his son-in-law had risen to distinction. Such is a specimen of the "Romance of the Peerage."

Long as this bridge was destined to endure, it is a noteworthy fact that within seventy years of its completion it had fallen into decay, or, as the King described it, into "ruins." In A.D. 1280 King Edward I. furnished the citizens with a brief, to enable them to collect contributions for its restoration, an extract from which we subjoin:

"The King to his liege subjects, greeting.

"It grieves us to see that London Bridge is in ruins, and unless it is repaired it will inevitably fall down. The holders of houses thereon are in danger of being destroyed. Wherefore we command you that when the bridge messengers be come unto you (authorised by us) to collect everywhere the money of our well-beloved subjects, in regard of charity and devotion, let each strive to outrun the other in good works, for which ye must needs merit the approval of God, and have our hearty thanks."

It would appear that the voluntary system, unaided by legal enactment, failed of its purpose then, as it would in our day no doubt, for purposes of public works, maintaining armies, and procuring education and the ministrations of religion; and the King granted letters-patent securing a toll on all wares and commodities coming into London; and "the underwritten custom of the bridge is ordered to be taken: of every man on foot bringing merchandise, one farthing; of every horseman carrying goods, one penny; of every saleable pack passing over the bridge, one halfpenny. The custom to cease at the full end of three years."

So recently as 1805 a bridge-tax existed upon all merchandise entering the city. "On every hundredweight of cheese, butter, or tallow, 1d.; every hundred of barley, 1d.; every pound of dates, saffron, or cotton, d.; every hundred of copper, brass, or tin, 1d.; every hundred ells of linen, 1d.; every horse worth above 40s., 1d.-if less, d.; for ten sheep, d.; for every cart freighted with fish, ld.” It is not generally known that, originally, this structure was fortified with a drawbridge. In 1426 a fortified tower was added. This drawbridge was for the purpose of admitting large ships to pass, and also for the purpose of cutting off all mode of ingress by the bridge in case of attack upon the city. The tower was likewise of great service during sieges upon the City, and here the bastard Falconbridge was

repulsed with great loss in 1471, on which occasion, Holinshed states, sixty houses on the bridge were burnt in the encounter. Upon this tower, better known by the name of the "Traitors' Gate," were usually displayed, as at Temple Bar, the heads of traitors, of which at no time did there seem to be any deficiency. The German traveller Hentzer, in 1598, counted at one time upon it above thirty heads in most "horrible array."

With such a break in the middle of the structure as this drawbridge, the wonder is, not that it so soon became in want of reparation, but that it stood at all. We usually suppose that the keystone of the central arch carries the chief weight of the structure; but here was not only no keystone, but no central arch! Peter the Architect must indeed have managed well to have secured anything like permanence to his work, so supported. The Tower was removed in 1633, and a new one substituted; but when it was permanently abolished I have been unable to ascertain.

At various periods considerable repairs have been required to this bridge. In 1436 two of the arches fell in, and were only restored after great delay and expense. In pulling down the old bridge, several stones bearing inscriptions were discovered, no doubt recording certain restorations of the fabric at various periods. On one of the oldest the letters are raised "ANNO DOMINI 1497;" on another is recorded the liberality of Roger Acheley, draper, Mayor 1511. This self-made man was a native of Shropshire, a great public benefactor, Alderman of Cornhill, and better known as Sir Roger Acheley.

Four years after the completion of the bridge, one of those fearful scourges, so frequent in London in the early times, visited this structure. A fire broke out at the Southwark end; vast crowds rushed from the City side to assist in its demolition; while thus engaged, another fire seized the opposite end, and thus hemmed in the crowd, who were unable to escape. Numbers of vessels were quickly brought under the bridge, to rescue, if possible, the sufferers; but all in vain. Such was the eagerness of the people that many were killed in throwing themselves into the ships; hundreds more, falling upon them, sunk or overturned the crafts; and thus was witnessed a scene of indescribable confusion and distress. It is computed that, with those who threw themselves in their terror into the stream, and those who were killed in falling into the barges and vessels below, and others who in their fright were unable to leave the bridge, and were thus miserably burned between the two fires, more than three thousand persons met with an untimely end. Their intention, in hurrying to the scene, was to assist their fellows in their need: and lamentable indeed was the result of their devotion.

In 1632, again, was the bridge attacked by fire, when no less than forty houses were levelled to the ground. Stow tells the circumstance few words; and, as his account affords a peep into olden times in