pastures thrown into steep waves of greensward, dashed with dew along the edges of their folds, and sweeping down into endless slopes, with a cloud here and there lying quietly, half on the grass, half in the air; and he will have as yet, in all this lifted world, only the foundation of one of the great Alps.

And whatever is lovely in the lowland scenery becomes lovelier in this change: the trees which grew heavily and stiffly from the level line of plain assume strange curves of strength and grace as they bend themselves against the mountain side; they breathe more freely, and toss their branches more carelessly as each climbs higher, looking to the clear light above the topmost leaves of its brother tree: the flowers which on the arable plain fell before the plough, now find out for themselves unapproachable places, where year by year they gather into happier fellowship, and fear no evil; and the streams, which in the level land crept in dark eddies by unwholesome banks, now move in showers of silver, and are clothed with rainbows, and bring health and life wherever the glance of their waves can reach.-Ruskin.

Leth'-ar-gy, drowsiness, torpor, stupor.
Co-teaux', sides, declivities, slopes.
Ar'-a-ble land, land which is culti-
vated chiefly by means of the
plough or spade.

Leg'-end, narrative, unauthentic statement.

Ed'-dies, small whirlpools, currents of water running back in direction contrary to that of the main stream.

THE TOWER OF LONDON.

THE time-worn Tower is the oldest monument of the kingdom. Tradition asserts that Julius Cæsar founded a citadel at this spot, but, whether this be true or not, history is very clear on the fact that William the Conqueror commenced to build a fortress-palace, known as the White Tower, in 1078; and that his son, William Rufus, completed the structure, and surrounded it with walls and a broad deep ditch. Probably the first structure was only a square tower, and so gave the name to the whole. But at present the Tower is like a great walled town, composed of many castles; and, with its courtyards and its moat

-an enormous ditch, for a ditch surrounded every fortress in ancient times-the Tower covers a space of twelve acres.

This block of buildings has been used by different monarchs as palace, prison, and fortress, and the darkest deeds which mark the history of this country have been perpetrated within its walls. In 1140, King Stephen held his court in the Tower halls during the feast of Whitsuntide, and King John was frequently a resident there. The youthful king, Henry III., spent many of his early days in the building, and made it memorable for the pomp of religious festivals. During his reign, the Tower stood the horrors of a siege; and later, when struggling with the barons, he frequently sought shelter within its walls.

Succeeding monarchs occupied the White Tower as a palace, but none of their careers strike us with such a sense of horror as that of Richard III. His royal brother, Edward IV., had kept court there, with great pomp and splendour, and on Edward's death, Richard feared that his two nephews (sons of the late king) might some day aspire to the throne. After his coronation, he proceeded to Gloucester, and, on the road, plotted a foul scheme to prevent the possibility of their accession. By his orders, two vile knaves-Miles Forest and John Dighton-went to the White Tower; and, about midnight,they entered the chamber where the two youthful princes slept, and smothered the innocents by pressing the feather bed and pillows over their mouths, after which they buried the corpses under a heap of stones at the foot of the stairs. This fact is recorded by Sir Thomas More, who wrote twenty-five years after the horrible event had occurred.

It was in a great, bare, gloomy, thick-walled room of one of the many towers which form parts of the fortress, that the two poor little princes were imprisoned. To us, no gaol could seem more desolate; but to them it could not have been a much worse place of confinement than any room in any palace. For the palaces in those times were built with such very thick walls, and such very small windows, that the sunlight had but little chance to creep in; and we all know that any place where the glad sunshine cannot freely enter must be damp and gloomy.

Revelries were frequent in the reigns of subsequent kings and queens. Mary held court. in the Tower, and rode thence in a chariot decorated with a cloth of gold, when proceeding to be crowned at Westminster. A royal menagerie of wild beasts delighted James I., who rejoiced over the combats of lions and dogs. Charles II. kept up the palatial character of the Tower, on the occasion of his coronation, in connection with which the last regal procession passed from this historic residence. Since that time, the only mark of the Tower having been used as a palace is that of the Crown regalia-including five crowns worn by different monarchs, sceptres, and many Crown jewels-being exhibited to visitors.

As a state prison, the ghastly memories of the Tower are of the most profound historical interest. During half-a-dozen centuries its dark dungeons held an unbroken line of illustrious tenants, including kings and queens, poets and philosophers, statesmen, and a glorious army of martyrs. The miseries endured within its walls can never be fully told: these dungeons into which not a ray of sunlight was allowed to

reach, and others below the level of the Thames, were so infested with rats and other vermin, that prisoners were sometimes actually eaten alive. Few prisoners expected to escape these dread abodes, for the rope or the axe generally closed their careers. In 1282, no less than six hundred Jews were confined here at once, under the pretence that they had clipped or adulterated the coin of the realm. Large numbers of Welsh and Scotch prisoners, seized by King Edward I. at the close of the thirteenth century, were confined in the dungeons; and Wallace, in 1305, entered within the gloomy walls, whence he was dragged through Cheapside to Smithfield, tied to horses' tails, and barbarously executed.

Edward II. furnished materials for an interesting page of his country's history by keeping the Tower thronged with prisoners. The Knights Templars, an order of military knights, had been dissolved, and the king showed his contempt for them by casting into the dungeons of the state prison every former member of the order that could be found south of the Trent. He also confined there many of the Welsh champions, whom he seized in their struggle for independence, and such of his discontented barons as he could capture.

During the reigns of Henry VIII. and Mary, religious prisoners were conspicuous by their great numbers, and the rack and thumb-screws were cruelly used to extort confessions of faith. Not the least painful event was the incarceration of Sir Walter Raleigh in a vile dungeon, lit up day and night with nothing but a small oil-lamp, during thirteen years after sentence of death had been passed upon him.