o its dark and muddy waters, have men leaped in
madness, and women in shame; there, at the dead of night, has slunk away
the wretch who feared what the coming morrow would bring forth, to die.
And here woman--deceived, betrayed, deserted, broken in heart, and
blasted beyond all hope of salvation--has sought repose. A few hours
after and the sun has shone brightly, and men have talked gaily on the
very spot from whence the poor creatures leapt. Well may we exclaim--

"Sky, oh were are thy cleansing waters
Earth, oh where will thy wonders end."

The Chronicles of Old London Bridge are many and of eternal interest.
When Sweyn, king of Denmark, on plunder and conquest bent, sailed up the
Thames, there was a London Bridge with turrets and roofed bulwarks. From
994 to 1750, that bridge, built and rebuilt many times, was the sole land
communication between the city and the Surrey bank of the Thames. In
Queen Elizabeth's time the bridge had become a stately one. Norden
describes it as adorned with "sumptuous buildings and statelie, and
beautiful houses on either syde," like one continuous street, except
"certain wyde places for the retyre of passengers from the danger of
cars, carts, and droves of cattle, usually passing that way." Near the
drawbridge, and overhanging the river, was the famed Nonsuch House,
imported from Holland, built entirely of timber, four stories high,
richly carved and gilt. At the Southwark end was the Traitor's Gate,
where dissevered and ghastly heads were hung suspended in the air. In
1212, the Southwark end caught fire, and 3000 persons perished miserably
in the flames. In 1264 Henry III. was repulsed here by Simon de
Mountfort, earl of Leicester. Thundering along this road to sudden death
rushed Wat Tyler, in 1381. Here came forth the citizens, in all their
bravery, ten years after, to meet Richard II. Henry V. passed over this
bridge twice, once in triumph, and once to be laid down in his royal
tomb. In 1450, we hear a voice exclaiming: "Jack Cade hath gotten London
Bridge, and the citizens fly and forsake their houses;" and thus the
chronicle goes on. Nor must we forget the maid servant of one Higges, a
needle-maker, who, in carelessly placing some hot coals under some
stairs, set fire to the house, and thus raised a conflagration which
appears to have been of the most extensive character. On London Bridge
lived Holbein and Hogarth. Swift and Pope used to visit Arnold the
b