rn of its original proportions in order to
widen a street. This was done, we are told, for the convenience of
George IV., who used to pass in a coach along this street on his way
from London to Brighton. The tower is low and unassuming, and is
supposed to date from the time of King Stephen. The new church of St.
Nicholas stands by the river, and Guildford also possesses another
church built of brick. None of these churches have spires, and therefore
some local wit has written,

"Poor Guildford, proud people;
Three churches--no steeple."

The High Street climbs the hill past many quaint buildings, particularly
the old town-hall, where the hill is somewhat less steep. Its upper
stories project beyond the lower, being supported by carved beams, and
the town-clock hangs over the street. Abbot's Hospital, built by
Guildford's most noted townsman, George Abbot, Archbishop of Canterbury,
is also in this street. He was born in a humble cottage, and the legend
tells us that his mother, before the event, dreamed that if she could
eat a pike she would have a son who would be a great man. She was unable
to buy the fish anywhere, but, drawing a pailful of water from the
river, to her surprise found a pike in it. When George was born the tale
was told, and several distinguished people offered to become his
sponsors. They gave him a good education, and he graduated at Balliol
College, Oxford, and was made Dean of Westminster. He was one of the
revisers of the Scriptures who prepared the revision in the seventeenth
century, was made a bishop, and in 1611 Archbishop of Canterbury. His
brother was Bishop of Salisbury, and another brother Lord Mayor of
London. He was a great hunter, as were most ecclesiastics at that time,
and in 1621, when shooting at a buck, his arrow accidentally pierced the
arm of a gatekeeper, who soon bled to death. The archbishop was
horror-stricken, settled an annuity upon the widow, and to the close of
his life observed Tuesday, the day of the accident, as a weekly fast.
This occurrence raised a hot dispute in the Church as to whether the
archbishop, by having blood on his hands, had become incapable of
discharging the duties of his sacred office. He retired to his hospital
at Guildford while the inquiry was conducted, was ultimately
exonerated, and in 1625 died. This hospital is built around a small
quadrangle, and in its gateway-tower the unfortunate "King Monmouth" was
lodged on his last journey from Sed