in existence, one of which was sold in 1901 for L1,550. The other
three are in public libraries. Could Caxton have looked onward for 400
years, his astonishment and gratification at these prodigious prices
would doubtless have been extreme.

The Almonry, or "Eleemosynary," as Stow calls it, was in two parts, of
which the larger was again subdivided in two portions, parallel to the
two Tothill Streets. The distribution of the Royal maundy which takes
place in Westminster Abbey yearly, with much ceremony, is a reminder of
the ancient almsgiving. The address of the present Royal Almonry is 6,
Craigs Court.

Henry VII.'s almshouses were in the Little Almonry, and St. Ann's Chapel
(p. 23) was at the southern end. King Henry's mother, Margaret, erected
an almshouse near the chapel for poor women, which "was afterwards
turned into lodgings for the singing men of the College."

A great gatehouse formerly stood at the east end of Victoria Street,
close by Dean's Yard. It was built by Richard II., and was very massive,
resembling a square tower of stone, and it altogether lacked the
architectural decoration of the other gateways near King Street to be
spoken of presently. Well might it seem gloomy, for it fulfilled the
functions of a prison. On one side was the Bishop of London's prison for
"Clerks, convict," and in the other were confined prisoners from the
City or Liberties of Westminster. Many distinguished prisoners were
confined here. Sir Walter Raleigh passed the night before his execution
within the solid walls, and wrote his farewell to life:

"Even such is Time! that takes on trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have;
And pays us but with age and dust;
Who in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wandered all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days."

Perhaps the most illustrious victim of all those who have perished on
English scaffolds is Sir Walter Raleigh. He was brought out to die in
Old Palace Yard at eight in the morning of October 29, 1618. The day
chosen was Lord Mayor's Day, in the hope that the pageants of the day
would draw away the people from witnessing the death of this great man.
The story of his execution is well known. His last words have not been
allowed to perish. "Now," he said, as he mounted the scaffold, "I am
going to God." Then, touching the axe, he said: "This is a sharp
medicine, but it will cure all diseases." Lady Raleigh herself waited
near the scaffold in