imes, in spite of the endeavours of the clergy; and at this
time "Duke Humfrey's Walk," from the tomb of Duke Humfrey Stafford, as
the twelve grand Norman bays of this unrivalled nave were called, was
the prime place for the humours of London; and it may be feared that
this, rather than the architecture, was the chief idea in the minds of
the youths, as a babel of strange sounds fell on their ears, "a still
roar like a humming of bees," as it was described by a contemporary,
or, as Humfrey said, like the sea in a great hollow cave. A cluster of
choir-boys were watching at the door to fall on any one entering with
spurs on, to levy their spur money, and one gentleman, whom they had
thus attacked, was endeavouring to save his purse by calling on the
youngest boy to sing his gamut.

Near at hand was a pillar, round which stood a set of men, some rough,
some knavish-looking, with the blue coats, badges, short swords, and
bucklers carried by serving-men. They were waiting to be hired, as if
in a statute fair, and two or three loud-voiced bargains were going on.
In the middle aisle, gentlemen in all the glory of plumed hats,
jewelled ears, ruffed necks, Spanish cloaks, silken jerkins, velvet
hose, and be-rosed shoes, were marching up and down, some
attitudinising to show their graces, some discussing the news of the
day, for "Paul's Walk" was the Bond Street, the Row, the Tattersall's,
the Club of London. Twelve scriveners had their tables to act as
letter-writers, and sometimes as legal advisers, and great amusement
might be had by those who chose to stand listening to the blundering
directions of their clients. In the side aisles, horse-dealing,
merchants' exchanges, everything imaginable in the way of traffic was
going on. Disreputable-looking men, who there were in sanctuary from
their creditors, there lurked around Humfrey Stafford's tomb; and young
Pierrepoint's warning to guard their purses was evidently not wasted,
for a country fellow, who had just lost his, was loudly demanding
justice, and getting jeered at for his simplicity in expecting to
recover it.

"Seest thou this?" said a voice close to Humfrey, and he found a hand
on his arm, and Babington, in the handsome equipment of one of the
loungers, close to him.

"A sorry sight, that would grieve my good mother," returned Humfrey.

"My Mother, the Church, is grieved," responded Antony. "This is what
you have brought us to, for your so-called religion," he