in spite of the corporation, an Act of Parliament was passed in 1823 for the erection of a new bridge. It was commonly said that old London Bridge was built upon woolpacks! because the money is supposed to have been raised by a tax upon wool; but however it was built, or whatever it was built upon, it is certain that the original work must have been of marvellous strength to have stood the assaults of fire and flood, frost and fierce tempest, and, perhaps, still more trying than all, the patching and botching of so many years.

The Act of Parliament being passed, six months' notice was given, and prizes were offered for the three best designs for the new bridge. Fifty-two were sent in, and from these three were selected. But none even of these being deemed satisfactory, John Rennie was appointed engineer, whether by a fresh competition, or by direct appointment, I do not know; probably the latter, he having just finished Waterloo Bridge, then considered the most magnificent in the world. Rennie died, however, before the work was begun, but his designs were followed, and the work entrusted to his son, Sir John Rennie.

The first pile of the first cofferdam, being that of the south pier, was driven on Monday, 15th March, 1824. The foundation stone was laid by Lord Mayor Garratt, in the presence of the Duke of York and other distinguished persons, on 15th of June, 1825; and the finished bridge, was opened by William IV. and Queen Adelaide, with great state on the 1st of August, 1831. It stands about 180 yards higher up the river than the old bridge, which was left till its successor was built; nor was its last arch pulled down till towards the end of the year 1832.

There they stood for a short time—many must remember them-side by side. They seemed, indeed they were,

representatives of Old and New London, of the picturesque memories we have been endeavouring to recal on the one hand; on the other, of modern civilization, of the practical as opposed to the ideal, of traffic and labour.

Old London Bridge marked the spot where, gradually and unnoticed, the governing power had passed silently across the river from the south to the north bank of the Thames. In old times Southwark was of equal, if not greater, importance than London. In the middle ages it was the home of medieval art. There are, says Knight,

some interesting records which have been preserved, as to the mode of proceeding in those days, from which it appears that when a king wanted some grand chef-d'œuvre of the arts, he had only to send his commands to that land of romance -in the days of Henry VI., as well as in the days of Shakspeare and Ben Jonson-Southwark, and the matter was in effect settled. At the time fixed there were the windows, or doors, or roofs required; or, in fine, a St. George's, a King's College, or a Henry VII's Chapel. In these records, we find for instance contracts for the windows of King's College, and for the orient colours and imagery, with which they were to be adorned, drawn up in the same matter of fact manner that one would now employ if a number of modern sashes were concerned, and yet the orient colours and imagery came."

Such was Southwark in the days of old London Bridge.

LET

CHAPTER XVIII.

NEW LONDON BRIDGE.

ST. MARY OVERIES; OR, ST. SAVIOUR'S.

ET us turn now to what the new bridge represents, Industry, Traffic, Toil, and what is called Progress. The old order changeth, giving place to new." Southwark appears to have forgotten the exquisite fancies, the marvellous taste, the delicate handiwork, much of which, however, still remains for our wonder and delight, (though not in Southwark itself), to show what our craftsmen did in ancient days. The hop merchants of the Borough, the leather-sellers of Bermondsey, the vast engineering shops, themselves almost towns, seem to have engrossed, in the substantial and the practical, all the inventive power that formerly adorned our public buildings, or was dedicated to God's service.

I once greatly enjoyed a visit to one of the largest of these huge engineering establishments. We saw an enormous casting made, and the liquid iron glowing like molten gold, as it was poured from the vast troughs or scuttles suspended from huge cranes, into the large earthen mould, when in a moment up burst the escaping gas in brilliant jets of many coloured flames, dancing on the surface. We went through all the different shops. We saw engines preparing for gigantic works in every part of the Queen's dominions, and many also for foreign lands, Egypt, Turkey, and Russia. It was a sight never to be forgotten, and perhaps gave a

greater idea of the enormous industry and wealth, and with it the power of our country, than anything else could have done. Strange to say, as we passed along through the busy lines of workmen, one was pointed out to us, a handsome stalwart man, and we were told he was a Sobieski, a descendant of the line of Poland's Kings: nor indeed do sons of England's best blood disdain to go through hard, toilsome, mechanical drudgery in the school of the engineer's workshop. I felt that the romance of life has not quite died out, though one could no more if one would, bring back the picturesque scenes of medieval times.

Yet life is often very hard and gloomy to the toil-worn workmen of the courts and alleys of Southwark, alike on Sundays and weekdays. For when you have enticed the "working man " into a dreary church, cold and comfortless, and placed him in the seats up the middle aisle, in the draught of the great west door, gazed at by his richer "brethren," in their cushioned pews, and he is asked to take part in a dreary, cold service, with a long wearisome sermon, and then, perchance, to join in some hymn which suggests that this worshipping in God's house on earth is only a foretaste of what it will be in the Courts above, is it wonderful, that he should be careless about getting to such a dreary Heaven, and prefer the flaring gin-palace below? And this thought leads me on from London Bridge to my next subject. Step by step, only pausing a moment at the top, to survey the exquisite east end of the Lady Chapel, and beautiful grouping of Tower and Chancel and Chapel, let us go down together into St. Mary Overie's Close, now St. Saviour's Churchyard. There stands, what was once, and in some respects is still, the finest church in London, excepting the Cathedral and Westminster Abbey. What would it not be for Southwark, if the interior of St.

Saviour's once again presented the grand space that it should, where all worshippers would be equally welcome. where the pealing organ, and the glorious cathedral music, and the daily services might make the poor and rich exclaim, "I was glad when they said unto me we will go into the house of the Lord. We will go into His Tabernacle and fall low on our knees before His footstool." Surely all Surrey and the grand old Dioceses of Winchester, and Rochester, and London itself will help the wealthy merchants of Southwark to make St. Saviour's what it should be, the rich man's delight and the poor man's home.

But let us now take a rapid review of the history of St. Saviour's, as in my last chapter we did of that of London Bridge, and see whether we are not bound to hand down unimpaired to our own children the noble work we owe to our forefathers.

A religious house for women existed here in very early times; but a St. Swithin, and almost certainly that good, holy, and wise man, who was Ethelwulf's friend and counsellor in all matters, ecclesiastical and spiritual, and to whose wise counsels, therefore, probably our great and good King Alfred owed much, turned the convent of nuns into a monastery for Canons regular, and their chief endowment may have consisted of the profits of the Ferry. For a bridge existed, as we have seen, before Canute's time, and possibly they had the tolls. But when the Normans came to England, they found both bridge and priory in a somewhat decayed state; or it may well be that the Normans in their insolent recklessness may have injured both, or probably burned them when the ruthless Conqueror passing on gave Southwark to the flames, and did not cross the Thames till he came to Wallingford.

It was in William Rufus' time that the Conqueror's