choir, its staff of royal officials and servants, it has its close links with the past in the continuous occupation of many of its rooms by those who have borne their part, themselves or their kindred,in making England great. So we may walk through its courts with thronged memories of great names—and from them we may pass to "thick-coming fancies" of a world invisible or half known. Imagination and tradition vie in bringing forth tales of strange noises and mysterious presences. That long room, now so grey and wan in the moonlight, that leads round the great kitchen-court from the great watching chamber to the top of the Queen's staircase, bears the name of the Haunted Gallery. Was it here—for it opens into the Pages' Chamber—that the Guards heard the sad, stern voice of Strafford give the countersign "Christ," as he passed by the sleeping pages and Mr. Inglesant on to where the King slept? Mr. Shorthouse may tell us that the vision was earlier and in another place; but Charles in those last days of his at Hampton must have had dark memories of the days that could not be recalled. Or is it Catherine Howard who tears herself from her guardians and runs shrieking to the door of the royal closet, that is in the west gallery of the chapel? Henry sits still within at his prayers, and the door will not open, and the guard force her back; but her shrieks can still be heard above the storm on windy nights. It is locked, and we may not enter it at night; but the custodian of the pictures, who has here some canvases that need his treatment, will not
