mercial and political importance. And no doubt, also, there were many buildings, villas of opulent merchants and others, scattered over the neighbouring country, along the great roads and up and down among the pleasant fields, that at no time were considered as making part of the city, although some of them might be very near to it, nor were ever included within any artificial circumvallation. Beyond what we have considered to be the most probable line of the original enclosure of Roman London, tesselated pavements or other sure marks of habitation have been discovered not only between St. Paul's and Ludgate at the London Coffee House and in Creed Lane-but so far to the west as St. Andrew's Hill, in Holborn, to which point nobody has ever supposed that the city wall extended. Nay, for that matter, the clear vestiges of Roman dwelling-houses have been found not only in the adjacent suburban district of Southwark, but here and there along that bank of the river as far east as Deptford. But the evidences of continued building and a compact population are confined to the locality still forming the heart of the city, and to the limits we have assigned to the walled London of the Romans. Almost every excavation that is made to a sufficient depth within these limits brings us among their long-buried relics-to the very streets on which they walked, or the floors of the houses in which they lived. The general level of Roman London ranges from above fifteen to seventeen feet under the present surface,* thus showing an accumulation at the rate of about a foot in a century gradually arising out of the mere occupancy and traffic of a crowded population; for of the whole little more than two feet usually consists of the débris of the ancient city. Probably indeed the rate of augmentation has been considerably greater than this in more recent times. In some places, too, what is called the Roman soil descends to a much greater depth than its general level. This is particularly the case along the course of the stream of Walbrook, which formerly, passing through the wall (whence its name), entered the city between Bishopsgate and Moorgate, at the east end of old Bethlehem, and proceeded nearly along the line of the new street called Moorfields, and of the present Walbrook Street, under which, we believe, it still flows as a sewer, discharging itself into the Thames at Dowgate. In Prince's Street, which skirts the west side of the Bank, and connects Moorgate Street with the other magnificent new opening called King William Street, leading to London Bridge, the Roman stratum was found in the course of the late excavations to go down to the depth of not less than thirty feet. Here, too, and along the whole line from Prince's Street to Finsbury, in which also it was of unusual depth, it was, according to Mr. Smith's account, much more moist than usual, "highly impregnated with animal and vegetable matter, and almost of an inky blackness in colour." 66 Throughout the same line also," Mr. Smith continues, "were at intervals noticed a vast and almost continuous number of wooden piles, which in Prince's Street were particularly frequent, and where also they descended much deeper. The nature of the ground, and the quantity of these piles, tend to strengthen the probability of a channel having flowed in this direction, draining off the water from the adjoining marshes, and that too (from the numerous Roman remains accompanying these indications) at a very remote period." The same peculiarities mark a considerable portion of the soil that is in course of being

* Account of Various Roman Antiquities, discovered on the site of the Church of St. Michael, Crooked Lane and in East Cheap; by A. J. Kempe, Esq. In Archæologia, xxiv. 190, &c.

t'Archæologia,' vol. xxvii. pp. 140, &c.

turned up while we write under the site of the late Royal Exchange. In seeking a firm foundation for the new building, the workmen in one place have been obliged to make their way through a stratum, at least twelve or fifteen feet in thickness, of moist, black earth, interspersed with shells of fishes, horns, bones, and other animal remains. At the bottom, too, some strong oaken piles had been driven in to support the made earth. It was evidently a place into which rubbish of all kinds had been thrown, to fill up either a deserted gravel-pit, or more probably a natural hollow formed by some stray rivulet from the great fen to the north, over which it was desired to build. The Roman remains found in Prince's Street and near the Bank are described by Mr. Smith as having been more various and of a more interesting kind than had been met with in any other part of London; but we could not learn that anything except a few bits of pottery and some common coins had been picked up here. Over the black rubbish, however, laid on a substratum of gravelly earth about two feet thick, were remains of Roman building, in particular a square-shaped tablet, apparently the basis of a pillar, built of large flat bricks, encrusted with a very hard cement in which the mouldings were formed, exactly as is done in the London architecture of the present day. Nay, over this, and separated from it by some more made earth, were other extensive stone and brick foundations, which had also very much of a Roman look, and yet appeared evidently to have been laid down without any regard to those below, or perhaps even a knowledge of their existence. From this and other appearances of the same kind it would almost seem that, even during the period of the Roman occupation, the original Roman London had been in great part superseded by a new city built over it and out of its ruins.

X. THE OLD SPRING-TIME IN LONDON.

THERE was an interesting remnant of the habits and feelings of our ancestors, existing down to nearly the close of the last century, when we find it recorded that on the first of May, "according to annual and superstitious custom, a number of persons went into the fields and bathed their faces with the dew of the grass, under the idea that it would render them beautiful." And were they very far wrong? We suspect that, if the enlightened writer and the "superstitious" persons had stood side by side to test the value of the custom, the latter would have had much the best of the argument. Their glowing cheeks and animated features, kissed by the young May herself in token of her approbation of such loving votaries, would certainly have put to shame his pale countenance yet heavy with sleep. Pepys, about a century and a quarter earlier, knew better than to call so beautiful a custom by so unworthy a name. He writes in his diary one day, "My wife away down with Jane and W. Hewer to Woolwich, in order to a little air, and to lie there to-night, and so to gather May-dew to-morrow morning, which

Mrs. Turner has taught her is the only thing in the world to wash her face with." He emphatically adds, "I am contented with it." No doubt. Excellent Mrs. Turner! would there were many such teachers now! What matters it whether the dew, as was said, or the freshness and beauty of the time and season, and the exhilaration of spirits consequent upon their enjoyment in the society of the young and light-hearted,-as was doubtless thought by the chief promoters of such recreations, was the real cause? The result was obtained, and it was left to wiser posterity to refuse "to be contented with it;" to exhibit that partial, and, considered with reference to itself only, that most unfortunate advance in philosophy, which too often pulls down without building up, and which is so very busy in the matter of human improvement, that it has not a moment to spare for human happiness. A glimpse of better things is, however, we hope, dawning; and as it has been said, in connection with literature, that no great work remains long neglected, let us hope that the statement will prove at least partially true with that greatest of practical poems- an old May-day.

The eve of May-day in London during the reign of Henry VIII. presented an animated scene. The citizens of all classes then met together in every parish, and sometimes two or three parishes were joined in the celebration. They then divided into companies, and repaired to the neighbouring woods and groves, some to Highgate or Hampstead, some to Greenwich, some to Shooter's Hill. There the night was spent in cutting down green boughs and branches, in preparing the May-pole, and in a variety of sports and pastimes. In the earlier part of his reign the King himself made a point of joining in these "Mayings," and with as keen a relish as any of his subjects. The picturesque old chronicler, Hall, seems to have taken a particular pleasure in recording all those occasions which exhibited the more genial part of the royal disposition. In the second year of the reign he writes, "The King and the Queen, accompanied with many lords and ladies, rode to the high ground of Shooter's Hill to take the open air, and as they passed by the way they espied a company of tall yeomen, clothed all in green, with green hoods and bows and arrows, to the number of two hundred. Then one of them, which called himself Robin Hood, came to the King, desiring him to see his men shoot, and the King was content. Then he whistled, and all the two hundred archers shot and loosed at once; and then he whistled again, and they likewise shot again; their arrows whistled by craft of the head, so that the noise was strange and great, and much pleased the King, the Queen, and all the company. All these archers were of the King's guard, and had thus appareled themselves to make solace to the King. Then Robin Hood desired the King and Queen to come into the green wood, and to see how the outlaws live. The King demanded of the Queen and her ladies if they durst adventure to go into the wood with so many outlaws. Then the Queen said, if it pleased him she was content. Then the horns blew till they came to the wood under Shooter's Hill, and there was an arbour made with boughs, with a hall, and a great chamber and an inner chamber, very well made, and covered with flowers and sweet herbs, which the King much praised. Then said Robin Hood, Sir, outlaws' breakfast is venison, and therefore you must be content with such fare as we use. Then the King departed and his company, and Robin Hood and his men them conducted; and as they were returning there met with them two ladies in a rich

chariot drawn with five horses, and every horse had his name on his head, and on every horse sat a lady with her name written. On the first courser, called Cawde, sate Humidite, or Humide; on the second courser, called Memeon, rode Lady Vert; on the third, called Pheaton, sate Lady Vegetave; on the fourth, called Rimphon, sate Lady Pleasance; on the fifth, called Lampace, sate Sweet Odour; and in the chair sate the Lady May, accompanied with Lady Flora, richly appareled; and they saluted the King with diverse goodly songs, and so brought him to Greenwich."*

The crowds of people who had witnessed this spectacle, " to their great solace and comfort," now returned to their own shares in the important business of the day. Let us follow one of these companies. First, they adorned the May-pole with flowers and foliage from one end to the other, the pole itself being previously painted with the most brilliantly variegated colours. Forty yoke of oxen were now attached to it, this May-pole being of unusual length; and each ox having a sweet nosegay of flowers tied to the tips of his horns. Men, women, and children, all dressed in their gayest habiliments, and laden with green boughs, completed

the procession, which now set forth towards the place where the pole was to be elevated. As they passed through the streets of London, they found

"Each street a park,

Made green, and trimm'd with trees;"

*Hall's Chronicle, p. 582.