special meetings. Thus the revisers of the Old Testament carried out
their onerous task, the work of several years, seated round this table.
Long before, in the seventeenth century, a very different body of men had
met here, when the Westminster Assembly, driven from Henry VII.'s Chapel
by {139} the freezing cold, moved into the warmer atmosphere of the
Dean's house, and held many a stormy debate in this peaceful old-world
place.

From Jerusalem we pass into the Jericho parlour; this room, and the
bedrooms above it, were built in the sixteenth century, probably by Abbot
Islip, who was like Litlington a great builder; the fine linen scroll
panelling round the walls dates from an earlier period, and in the window
hang more remains of ancient glass. A door leads from the Deanery into
the lobby outside, and at the end of a dark passage is the Dean's private
entrance to the Abbey, which opens into the nave beneath the "Abbot's
Pew." We have referred once or twice to the Commonwealth era, when
Presbyterian ministers preached in the church, and the Deanery was leased
for a while to the Lord President of the Council, John Bradshaw. We seem
even now, after the lapse of over two hundred years, to see the striking
figure of the regicide, his stern features concealed by his favourite
broad-brimmed hat, stride across the darkness to the little door in the
wall, whence he ascended to the secluded study in the triforium, where he
loved to meditate amongst his books. But enough of these fascinating
memories. Our own pilgrimage is drawing to {140} a close; we retrace our
steps through the Abbot's courtyard and emerge from the twilight of the
cloisters into the sunshine of Dean's Yard, turning for a moment before
we part to look up at the window of the "long room," which, with his
private chapel behind it, was built by our friend Litlington. On each
side of the gateway below it are the heads of the Abbot himself and of
his sovereign, Richard II. Part of the ancient refectory wall is
concealed behind bookcases in the Abbot's long room, and there are other
remains of monastic times in the Deanery, which is a rambling old house,
added to by successive Deans, with many a picturesque corner and secret
chamber. Let us take leave of one another standing under the old
elm-trees, some of which were planted in Elizabeth's reign by Feckenham,
the last Abbot, and here complete our morning's walk round the church and
precincts of St. Peter's