utorium. The two upper stories are undoubtedly the least
interesting, since they contain the modern, unpainted masks.
Each mask has its place, its label, and on the shelf below it,
protected by a slip of glass, a description of the imaginary
recipient of the royal favour. One has only to look along the
crowded shelves to be convinced that Mr. Melville Robertson's office
is no sinecure. The first floor is devoted to a small working
library and a museum (the latter undergoing rearrangement at the time
of my visit). But the cellars!--or (as I should say) the crypt!
In Beaumont's words--

"Here's a world of pomp and state
Buried in dust, once dead by fate!"

Here in their native colours, by the light of Mr. Robertson's duplex
lantern, stare the faces of the illustrious dead, from Rinaldus
FitzTurold, knighted on Senlac field, to stout old Crosby Martin,
sea-rover, who received the accolade (we'll hope he deserved it) from
the Virgin Queen in 1586. A few even are adorned with side-locks,
which Mr. Pender, the _nomenclator_, keeps scrupulously dusted.
In almost every case the wax has withstood the tooth of time far
better than one could have expected. Mr. Robertson believes that the
pigments chosen must have had some preservative virtue. If so, the
secret has been lost. But Mr. Pender has touched over some of the
worst decayed with a mixture of copal and pure alcohol, by which he
hopes at least to arrest the mischief; and certainly the masks in the
Scutorium compare very favourably with the waxen effigies of our
royalties preserved in the Abbey, close by. Mr. Robertson has a
theory that these, too, should by rights belong to his museum: but
that is another story, and a long one. Suffice it to say that I took
my leave with the feelings of one who has spent a profitable
afternoon: and for further information concerning this most
interesting nook of old London I can only refer the reader to the
pamphlet already alluded to, _The Westminster Scutorium: Its History
and Present Uses_. By J. Saxby Hine, C.B., F.S.A. Theobald & Son,
Skewers Alley, Chancery Lane, E.C.

This article appeared to my beloved editor innocent enough to pass, and to
me (as doubtless to the reader) harmless enough in all conscience.
Now listen to the sequel.

Long after