ot, with his three priors
and sub-prior, occupied five richly-decorated stalls at the eastern
end. Above them rose a great crucifix to which the monks bowed on
entering. Then followed complaints, confessions, judgments,
punishments--such monks as were thought to need it were stripped to
the waist, and publicly scourged at the central pillar.

When the Commons began to meet apart from the Lords they met a few
times in the refectory, as I told you just now, but they soon settled
down in this Chapter-House. It would be too long and tedious a story
for me to attempt to recount the important acts that were passed in
this memorable edifice. The Commons sat here till the last day of
Henry VIII's life; their next meeting was in St. Stephen's Chapel in
the adjacent Palace.

From 1547 to 1863, the Chapter-House was used as a storehouse for the
public records. A special building for these has since been erected
in Chancery Lane, and by a grant from Parliament this beautiful and
time-honoured building has been redeemed from the miserable condition
resulting from centuries of neglect.

A little way from the Chapter-House stands a small square tower known
as the Parliament Office. It is thought that this tower was once the
convent prison, but however that may be, it was sold by the Abbey to
Edward III., and was for many years the royal jewel-house. Its
present name arose from the fact of all acts of Parliament being
deposited here, till they were moved to the Victoria Tower in 1864.
From the jewel-house, in the days of the abbots, there used to be a
path leading to a stream that ran down to the Thames. Hereabouts
lived the hermit of Westminster, in what was called "The Anchorite's
House." From age to age, a succession of hermits dwelt here, how
chosen for the post we do not know, but we hear of Richard II.
visiting the hermit in 1381, and of Henry V. doing the same at the
time of his father's death in 1413. It is said that one of these
"holy men" had been buried in a leaden coffin, in a small chapel
adjoining his cell. The keeper of the palace, William Ushborne, paid
a plumber to dig up this coffin and bring it to his office, after
throwing the bones down the cloister well. Tradition says that the
plumber fainted and died in Ushborne's house. Ushborne was guilty of
other crimes; he managed to steal a piece of the convent land and
made it into a garden with a fish-pond in the middle. He was supping
with his neighbours one evening