SECRETARY'S REPORT. 217 



it is certainly of very little practical value, so far as I could 

 judge. I went through it as any one would go to see a show. 

 As a triumph of engineering one may admire its complete 

 success. 



The Tower of London is visited" with very different feelings. 

 How many associations of the past those gloomy walls awaken ! 

 There is the dark cell where Sir Walter Raleigh was fifteen 

 years confined ; there the block, and the axe that severed the 

 head from the body of the unfortunate Lady Jane Grey, at the 

 command of the cruel Mary ; there the spot, the tower green, 

 that has flowed with the blood of many an innocent victim, 

 many a martyr to the cause of truth and justice, and many a 

 guilt-stained criminal ; there the priceless crown jewels of 

 England, the crown, the mace, and other trappings of royalty ; 

 there is the bloody tower, and there are the stairs beneath which 

 were found the bones of those two innocent young victims of 

 the ambition of Richard the Third ; there the knights in armor, 

 on horseback, the real ancient armor just as it was worn in 

 many a fierce, personal and warlike conflict. What is there not 

 there to remind one of the cruel, dark and barbarous ages in 

 the history of our ancestors ? The Tower is a place to be 

 visited once. One does not want to see it again. It leaves a 

 feeling of pain and sadness, and a sensation of relief succeeds 

 when one is fairly out. 



Close by is Tower Hill, the spot where so many illustrious 

 victims suffered death at the hands of the executioner. The 

 Mint is also near, and so are the celebrated London Docks, the 

 most extensive perhaps of any in the world. All this part of 

 the city, in fact, is old and more or less associated with all 

 English history, from the times of the Romans down to our 

 own. Some monument of the past strikes the eye wherever we 

 turn, and it is not difficult to summon up in parade before the 

 mind, the actors in the scenes of which these streets, these old 

 time-worn walls were witnesses years ago, long before our 

 fathers left them to seek a more congenial home in the West. 



Just behind Buckingham Palace, to return again to the 

 West End, are the queen's " mews " or stables, to which I had 

 access after the unwinding of considerable " red tape." The 

 number of horses at the time of my visit was about a hundred, 

 consisting of saddle and coach horses mostly. Many that are 



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