e evening,
when sitting by the fire in company with another servant, the street
bell was heard to ring, on which Millson went down to the door,
remarking to her neighbour that she knew who it was. She did not return,
although for an hour this did not excite any suspicion, as she was in
the habit of holding conversations at the street door. A little after
ten o'clock, the other woman--Elizabeth Lowes--went down, and found
Millson dead at the bottom of the stairs, the blood still flowing
profusely from a number of deep wounds in the head. Her shoes had been
taken off and were lying on a table in the hall, and as there was no
blood on them it was presumed this was done before the murder. The
housekeeper's keys were also found on the stairs. Opening the door to
procure assistance, Lowes observed a woman on the doorstep, screening
herself apparently from the rain, which was falling heavily at the time.
She moved off as soon as the door was opened, saying, in answer to the
request for assistance, "Oh! dear, no; I can't come in!" The gas over
the door had been lighted as usual at eight o'clock, but was now out,
although not turned off at the meter. The evidence taken by the coroner
showed that the instrument of murder had probably been a small crowbar
used to wrench open packing-cases; one was found near the body,
unstained with blood, and another was missing from the premises. The
murderer has never been discovered.

St. Martin Orgar, a church near Cannon Street, was destroyed in the
Great Fire, and not rebuilt. It had been used, says Strype, by the
French Protestants, who had a French minister, episcopally ordained.
There was a monument here to Sir Allen Cotton, Knight, and Alderman of
London, some time Lord Mayor, with this epitaph--

"When he left Earth rich bounty dy'd,
Mild courtesie gave place to pride;
Soft Mercie to bright Justice said,
O sister, we are both betray'd.
White Innocence lay on the ground,
By Truth, and wept at either's wound.

"Those sons of Levi did lament,
Their lamps went out, their oyl was spent.
Heaven hath his soul, and only we
Spin out our lives in misery.
So Death thou missest of thy ends,
And kil'st not him, but kil'st his friends."

A Bill in Parliament being engrossed for the erection of a church for
the French Protestants in the churchyard of this parish, after the Great
Fire, the parishioners offered reasons to the Parliament ag