eted some fifty years from the
date of its commencement. The tower, wherein was the treasury, fell down
in Bluff King Harry's reign, whose matrimonial exploits have given him
notoriety, in addition to the grand event of history, the Reformation,
with which they bore so intimate a connection. Decay, renovation,
change, and reformation, have been so busy with this seat of government,
from the era of its infancy until the present time, that no small degree
of ingenuity must be needed to unravel the twistings and turnings, and
comprehend the inharmonious groupings that have sprung up about it, the
divers offsprings of various ages, that mark the progress and growth of
the municipal constitution.

Without doubt, the first claim to antiquity is justly assigned to the
lower dungeons and cells, some of which still serve as _lock ups_ for
offenders awaiting magisterial examination; and a remarkably unpleasant
situation must the individual find himself in, who is there for ever so
brief a space in "durance vile;" the convicted transgressor certainly
makes an exchange for the better, when he reaches his ultimate
destination, the city prison cell; dark, damp, underground coal-cellars,
may be deemed _fair_ illustrations of the accommodation there offered to
those whom the "_law deems innocent_", as it professes to do all
unconvicted persons. One degree darker, and more horrible, are the
_dungeons_, which receive no light whatever, save from a jet of gas
without the gratings of the doors; into these refractory guests are
stowed, that their rebellious sounds may not disturb the ears of any
passers-by above ground.

"Deeper, and deeper still," down beneath the very foundations of the
building, at the foot of a dark narrow winding stair, fast crumbling to
decay, is yet another dungeon, long since closed for any practical
purposes; the eye of curiosity alone happily is permitted to penetrate
its depths. Dark and damp, however, as it is, it would seem preferable
to the dismal "_lock ups_," a light, of modern introduction, from the
street above, giving it a less intensely black look. Here it was that
poor old Bilney spent his last hours of life; and the groined and vaulted
roof, constructed upon the plan of so many of the cellars of that period
of civil and domestic architecture, gives to the place a strangely
ecclesiastical look in these days, and imagination has little difficulty
in calling up the priest of the subterranean temple,