chyard are the tombs and monuments of several of the old bishops of
London--Compton, Robinson, Hayter, Gibson, Terrick, Lowth, Sherlock, and
Randolph.

The grave of that distinguished author and brilliant wit, Theodore Hook,
is immediately opposite the chancel window. The stone bears the plain
inscription "Theodore Edward Hook, died 24th August, 1841, in the
fifty-third year of his age."

[Picture: Old entrance to Pryor's Bank, 1844] {188b}

Leaving the church by the other entrance, we are in Church Lane. The
first house opposite the gate of the churchyard is Pryor's Bank, to which
a separate chapter of our little volume is devoted, so that we can pass
on immediately to the next house, Thames Bank, the present residence of
Mr. Baylis, whose well-known taste will no doubt soon change its present
aspect. Granville Sharp's {188a} House stood opposite. It was pulled
down about twenty-five years ago. John's Place (erected 1844) is on the
site.

Next to Thames Bank, formerly stood Egmont Villa, the residence of
Theodore Hook, and the house in which he died, now pulled down, the back
of which, is shown in the annexed sketch. This house, though of the
smallest dimensions, was fitted up with much good taste. [Picture: Back
of Egmont Villa] There was a small boudoir on the side of the
drawing-room, which was very rich in articles of virtu, more especially
in some remarkably fine carvings, attributed to Cellini, Brustolini, and
others. These were left to Hook by his brother, the late Dean of
Worcester. As an improvisatore, Hook was unapproachable. In regard to
his literary merits, let the following suffice, taken from the late Mr.
Barham's life of Hook, published in 1848:--

"There can be no need," says the Editor, "at this day to enter upon
any lengthened criticism of Theodore Hook's merits as a novelist;
they have been discussed over and over again, with little variety of
opinion, by every reviewer of the kingdom. Indeed, both his faults
and his excellencies lie on the surface, and are obvious and patent
to the most superficial reader; his fables, for the most part ill
knit and insufficient, disappoint as they are unfolded; repetitions
and omissions are frequent: in short, a general want of care and
finish is observable throughout, which must be attributed to the
hurry in which he was compelled to write, arising from the
multiplicity and distracting nature of