Bridge Street.—Ancient Crypt.—The Blue Posts and the Knave of Clubs.—Roman Bath.—Grosvenor Street.—New Savings Bank.—The Cemetery.—Curzon Park and Hough Green.—The Port of Saltney.—St. Michael’s Church.—St. Olave’s Church.—The Gamull House.—St. Mary’s Church.

Heigho! After our bootless lamentation over the deceased Port of Chester, it is refreshing to return once more to an atmosphere of life and activity.

Turning our faces towards the south, we have before us Bridge Street, another of the four great Roman roads of the city. Here again we see the Rows,—those strange old Rows!—threading their tubelike course along both sides of the Street. The one upon the right hand is called the Scotch Row, from the merchants north of the Tweed ‘clanning’ together there, during the two great Fairs, held annually at Chester from time immemorial. It should be remembered that, except at these privileged times, none but freemen were permitted to trade within the city; whence is to be attributed the large concourse of foreign tradesmen to these once important Fairs. Since the downfall of this monopoly, the Scotch Row has become a desert wilderness, so far as business is concerned; but it will still serve as an admirable index to the stranger of what the Rows of Chester were a hundred years ago. The street fronts of the houses in this Row are more than ordinarily diversified,—the square red brick, the everlasting gable of every shape and size, the stately bow-window, and the ponderous, overhanging Dutch fronts, all flaunting their pretensions within this circumscribed space. Previous to 1839, no special archÆological interest attached to this locality; but in that year while excavating for a warehouse behind the shop of Messrs. Powell and Edwards, cutlers, a discovery was made which at once set all the antiquaries of Chester “by the ears.” The late Rev. J. Eaton, Precentor of the Cathedral, an architectural authority in his day, made the following Report upon this Ancient Crypt, as it is called, for the use of the proprietors. To these gentlemen, and particularly to Mr. Edwards, the representative of the firm, the public are deeply indebted for their intelligence and courtesy, in not only preserving intact this relic of the past, but also for so readily affording admission to the structure:—

“The lower parts of several of the houses in the four principal streets of Chester exhibit indubitable signs that they have been built on the remains of the religious buildings with which, prior to the Reformation, this city abounded.

“The ancient Crypt discovered by Messrs. Powell and Edwards is of an oblong form, running from east to west. The following are its dimensions, viz. length, forty-two feet; breadth, fifteen feet three inches; height, from the surface of the floor to the intersection of the groinings of the roof, fourteen feet. This Crypt was partially lighted through the upper part of the west end, in which there are three small windows, divided by stone mullions, and protected by iron bars. The upper part of the groining on the centre window appears to have been cut away to admit of more light. On examining the intersection of the groins, marks were discovered from the lead on the stone-work, that a couple of lamps had been used for lighting. The entrance to the east end is by a flight of steps cut out of the rock to the height of three feet. On the south side is an Anglo-Norman-Gothic doorway, which is attained by three or four semicircular steps, and forms an outlet within its inner and outer wall by another flight of steps to the surface above the building. In a niche on the south side of the window is a font in excellent preservation.

“The architecture is Anglo-Norman-Gothic, and the groins are of the third class of groining, which came into common use about the year 1180, and was succeeded in the next class of groins in the year 1280, so that if we date this roof as being erected about the year 1230, we shall not be far from the era of its real construction.”

Messrs. Powell and Edwards make no charge for admission: we must not omit, therefore, ere we pass out from the Crypt, to drop a stray piece of silver into the hat of the Blue Coat Boy who stands modestly at the door. Charity is seldom ill-bestowed; but here we have the special privilege of contributing, in however slight a degree, to the gratuitous education of the orphan and the friendless.

The Row upon the left hand is the one most frequented, forming a junction at right angles with Eastgate Row, before described. In the sixteenth century this Row was distinguished by the name of the Mercers’ Row, from the predominance here, probably, of that most enticing class of tradesmen. The love of dress and finery was evidently, even in those days, woman’s chief besetting sin!

A little way down this Row was an ancient tavern, called the Blue Posts, supposed to be the identical house now occupied by Mr. Brittain, woollendraper. In this house a curious incident is stated to have occurred in 1558, which tradition has handed down to us in the following terms. It appears that—

“Dr. Henry Cole, Dean of St. Paul’s, was charged by Queen Mary with a commission to the council of Ireland, which had for its object the persecution of the Irish protestants. The doctor stopped one night here on his way to Dublin, and put up at the Blue Posts, then kept by a Mrs. Mottershead. In this house he was visited by the mayor, to whom, in the course of conversation, he related his errand; in confirmation of which he took from his cloak bag a leather box, exclaiming in a tone of exultation, ‘Here is what will lash the heretics of Ireland!’ This announcement was caught by the landlady, who had a brother in Dublin: and while the commissioner was escorting his worship down-stairs, the good woman, prompted by an affectionate regard for the safety of her brother, opened the box, took out the commission, and placed in lieu thereof a pack of cards, with the knave of clubs uppermost! This the doctor carefully packed up, without suspecting the transformation; nor was the deception discovered till his arrival in the presence of the lord deputy and privy council at the castle of Dublin. The surprise of the whole assembly, on opening the supposed commission, may be more easily imagined than described. The doctor, in short, was immediately sent back for a more satisfactory authority; but, before he could return to Ireland, Queen Mary had breathed her last. It should be added that the ingenuity and affectionate zeal of the landlady were rewarded by Elizabeth with a pension of £40 a-year.”

The first street we meet with on the right hand is Commonhall Street, so called from the Common Hall of the city having been at one time situate there. This hall of justice stood upon the south side of the street, and close to those venerable-looking almshouses still situate there. It had previously been the Chapel of St. Ursula, which was founded there, with an Hospital for decayed persons, by Sir Thomas Smith, in 1532. The Hospital of St. Ursula still weathers the storm, in those odd-looking, tottering almshouses on the south side of this street. Lower down Bridge Street, on the same side, is another break in the row, formed by Pierpoint Lane, not now a thoroughfare, but through which went a passage in olden time to the Common Hall, just referred to.

Scarcely so far down as this last-named lane, and on the opposite side of Bridge Street, is a new and handsome range of buildings, erected in 1853 by Mr. Alderman Royle. On the higher side of these premises, and adjoining the Feathers Hotel, exist a Roman Hypocaust and Sweating Bath, of surpassing interest, and in a state almost as perfect as when first erected. The following account of this “ancient of days” is the result of a recent personal visit to the bath.

It consists of two rooms, considerably below the present level of the street—the first being fifteen feet long, eight feet wide, and about six and a half feet deep. The Hypocaust is of rectangular shape, about the same size, but, except at the entrance, not more than half as deep as the first chamber. It was originally supported by thirty-two square pillars, two and a half feet high, and one foot in diameter at top and bottom: twenty-eight of these pillars still remain. Brick tiles, eighteen inches square, and three inches thick, surmount these pillars; and over these are placed tiles two feet square, perforated here and there with small holes, through which the heat ascended to the sweating chamber above. The sweating room, or Sudatory, was immediately over the Hypocaust, and was fitted with seats for the bathers, who soon found themselves in a hot perspiration. They were then scraped carefully with an instrument constructed for the purpose, or else plunged into a cold water bath; after which they were rubbed down with towels, anointed with fresh oil, and then repaired to the tiring room: there they dressed themselves, deposited their denarii for the attendants, and then went their way, having enjoyed a luxury which few but Romans had then learned to indulge in.

As we have before stated, the buildings above and around have been only recently rebuilt: but Messrs. Royle, the proprietors, with that antiquarian zeal, and true public spirit, which have ever distinguished them, took especial precautions to preserve, both from injury and molestation, this curious relic of proud old Rome. Since the adjacent premises have been rebuilt, the bath is much easier of access than it was before; and visitors can now inspect these remains without any personal sacrifice, either of cleanliness or comfort.

Lower down than the Roman Bath, there was, until recently, a break in this Row, occasioned by a narrow lane, which leads up to the stables of the Feathers Hotel. This inconvenience has now been obviated by a neat wooden bridge, stretching across the passage from row to row; and we can now walk along, without the slightest obstruction, till we come to St. Michael’s Church.

The large and well-conceived street upon the right hand is Grosvenor Street, capable, under proper management, of being made the finest street of the city. It is flanked on the right side by White Friars, formerly Foster’s Lane, in which the Church and Monastery of that fraternity was at one time situate.

Grosvenor Street, and King’s Head Inn

At the junction of White Friars with Grosvenor Street stands that capital, well-conducted establishment, the King’s Head Inn. This is one of those quiet, cosy-looking houses, in which, the moment a traveller enters, he feels himself “at home;” and certainly, under the presidency of Mr. and Mrs. Bedson, he will find that—“deny it who can!”—domestic comforts are still to be enjoyed in an old English inn.

Some thirty yards up the street, on the right hand, is Cuppin Street, before noticed; and nearly opposite to it, an old and narrow street called Bunce Lane, leading off to St. Mary’s Church and the Castle. Beyond, upon the same side, is an elegant structure of white freestone, erected in 1853, from the designs of Mr. James Harrison, of this city, to wit, the Chester Savings Bank. The architecture of this building is of the Tudor style; and the genius of Mr. Harrison has accomplished a work which, while highly creditable to himself, is, at the same time, a genuine ornament to the city. The clock turret at the north-west corner, though it somewhat destroys the equilibrium of sight, yet, on the whole, adds much of beauty to the general fabric. The clock, which works four faces, and chimes the quarters on two melodious bells, was constructed by Mr. Joyce, of Whitchurch.

The ordinary business of this Bank is conducted in two large rooms, nearly twenty feet square, on the ground floor; over which a spiral staircase conducts to the committee and lecture-room, a noble apartment, forty-one feet long by twenty feet wide, lit on the north and west sides by four handsome traceried windows. The panelled ceiling, and other internal decorations of this room, are exceedingly chaste, and in happy unison with its exterior character. The Bank was formally transferred here from Goss Street in March, 1853. Here the poor and thrifty hoard up their little savings; the shillings grow into pounds, and provision is thus quietly, but surely, made against the rainy day. Let us never despise the day of small things, remembering that the foundation of many a rich man’s fortune has been laid with his first shilling deposited in a Savings Bank.

On the right is St. Bridget’s Church; and from this spot we obtain a capital view of the Castle, including the Grand Entrance, Shire Hall, Barrack Square, and Julius CÆsar’s Tower. We have noticed the Castle more particularly in our “Walk round the City Walls;” so we will now pass on towards the Grosvenor Bridge, one of the modern wonders of old Chester. From the parapet of this bridge we obtain a splendid view of the Roodeye and river, as well as of the Viaduct and Railway Bridge in the distance. This bridge has obtained an unenviable notoriety from its having broken down with a passenger train, on May 24, 1847, precipitating the whole of the carriages and passengers into the river below. By this accident four persons were killed upon the spot, and very many others more or less injured.

We are no sooner over the Grosvenor Bridge than we feel ourselves at once out of range of the town, and breathing the fresh and balmy air of the country. Bowers of trees are on either side of us, through which we can see, upon our left hand, something which seems like unto a Christian temple. The gateway we are approaching stands invitingly open; let us therefore step in, and cast a quiet glance at the prospect around. Despite the rose-clad lodge which guards the entrance, and the numerous flowers and shrubs that everywhere greet the eye, we are at once struck that this is a sacred scene, a royal domain of the grim King Death. “Tread lightly,” then, all who would venture in hither, for assuredly “this is holy ground;” and while we reverently scan the numerous memorials of the departed lying scattered around, let us all prepare, ere the day be too far spent, to follow them in peace and in hope to our last earthly home. There are few but have, at some time or other, borne a friend to the grave—perhaps even the soul and centre of their domestic hearth; our ‘household god’ lies peacefully here. To all such these lines, coming thus from among the tombs, will lose nought of their original force and beauty:

Forget not the Dead, who have loved, who have left us,
Who bend o’er us now from their bright homes above;
But believe, never doubt, that the God who bereft us
Permits them to mingle with friends they still love.

Repeat their fond words—all their noble deeds cherish—
Speak pleasantly of them who left us in tears;
From our lips their dear names other joys should not perish,
While time bears our feet through the valley of years.

Yea, forget not the Dead, who are evermore nigh us,
Still floating sometimes round our dream-haunted bed;
In the loneliest hour, in the crowd they are by us!—
Forget not the Dead,—oh! forget not the Dead!

The Chester Cemetery, for such is the beautiful spot we are exploring, seems as if formed by nature for the repose of the dead—all is so still, so serenely still, within its halllowed sphere. Nature and Art have alike combined to produce here a retreat worthy of the dead, and yet full of beauty and allurement for the living; while on the lake below us

See how yon swans, with snowy pride elate,
Arch their high necks, and sail along in state;

In fine, the beautiful trees and shrubs, the serpentine walks, the rustic bridges, the isle-dotted lake, the ivied rock-work, the modest chapels, and, above all, the tombstones of chaste and mostly appropriate design which meet us at every turn—all point out the Chester Cemetery as a fitting refuge for all, who in serious mood would “commune with their own hearts, and be still.” But we must not longer linger here, save to cast a look towards the ancient city, the river, Castle, and the New and Old Bridges, which from the north side of the Cemetery present to the eye a varied and truly interesting panorama.

Opposite to the Cemetery, reached from the Grosvenor Road by a pretty little suspension bridge, is Curzon Park, the property of Earl Howe, and upon which some handsome, aristocratic villas have been erected. It is from Curzon Park whence that view of the city is obtained which figures as the frontispiece of this “Guide,” and certainly from no point is old Chester seen to greater advantage than from this elevated and commanding locality.

Continuing our course from the Cemetery, we come to what we who live in towns and travel only by rail, so seldom meet with—a turnpike-gate,—through which we see the Grosvenor Gateway, to be noticed more particularly hereafter. A road upon the left leads to Handbridge and Queen’s Park, and that upon the right to one of the most thriving suburbs of Chester, Hough Green, and Saltney. Now, we are not troubled with a superfluity of grey hairs, yet do we well remember Saltney when but two houses occupied the site of the present little town. There was nothing heard then of the Port and trade of Saltney! But since the cutting of the two great Railways which form a junction, though not an alliance, at this spot, Saltney has rapidly risen in importance and population. A large Ironworks and coal trade have been established, new streets have sprung up, yclept severally Cable Street, Curzon Street, Wood Street, &c., and the number of inhabitants is now computed at about 3000. The new Church, erected in 1854–5, comes scarcely within our province, standing just beyond the boundaries of the city, which is here separated only by a narrow lane from the Principality of Wales. Looking at the rapidity with which building is going on at Saltney, and at the causes which have induced it, we shall not go far wrong in predicting for this ‘child of the old city’ a long future of commercial health and prosperity.

Returning once more to Bridge Street, we must pause awhile at St. Michael’s Church, standing at the north-east angle of this street and Pepper Street. A Church existed here, in connexion with a Monastery of the same name, almost coËval with the Conquest. In the year 1178, John de Lacy, constable of Chester, whose ancestor Roger de Lacy had devised the Monastery of St. Michael to the Prior of Norton, gave a messuage adjoining this church to the Abbot of Stanlaw. Two years afterwards, viz., on Mid-lent Sunday 1180, this Church and monastery were, with a large portion of the city, destroyed by fire; and Bradshaw the poet-monk assures us, doubtless “on the best authority,” that if it had not been for the virtues attaching to the holy shrine of St. Werburgh, the whole city would have then “lain in dust and ashes!” He that hath faith enough to remove mountains, let him swallow this also—we are confessedly an infidel. The Monastery does not appear to have been rebuilt after the Great Fire; but of the Church frequent mention is made in old charters and deeds. It has been several times rebuilt—the last time in 1849–50—so that it is, at this moment, the newest ecclesiastical edifice in the city. Mr. James Harrison, the architect of the Savings Bank and Music Hall, furnished the plans and elevations for the present Church of St. Michael.

St. Michael’s Church, and Lecture Hall

Perhaps the best view we can have of St. Michael’s Church is from a little way down Bridge Street, just opposite to that useful building, the New Lecture Hall. Chester has long stood in need of a room for such purposes, moderate in dimensions, and conveniently situate; and Dr. Norton, the proprietor of the new Lecture Hall, has laudably ministered to that want, by providing a public room admirably adapted, from its size and situation, for popular lectures and musical entertainments. Our illustration embraces a view both of the Lecture Hall and of St. Michael’s Church.

Just behind where we have been standing is a curious relic of the timber architecture of Chester—the Falcon Inn. A few yards higher up than the Falcon, the street was for nearly two centuries blocked up by a strange-looking timber building, erected by Randle Holme in 1655, called the Old Lamb Row. While this house was in being it was the greatest curiosity of its kind in the city; but in 1821, the decaying timbers suddenly parted from their bearings, and the entire pile fell in with a great crash, to the unspeakable relief of the pent-up thoroughfare, but to the great chagrin and regret of the antiquary.

We are now descending Lower Bridge Street, which abounds, on either side, with those queer-looking tenements, not to be met with in such numbers and variety in any other city but Chester. Here is one with the date 1603, evidently the residence, in its earliest days, of some Cestrian magnate long since “returned to his dust.”

But see! yonder rattles a bus, with a party from the station, down to that first-class establishment, the Albion Hotel. This house has no superior in the city; for while of handsome external proportions, its interior arrangements have all been conceived with especial regard to the comfort and convenience of visitors. The Assembly Room is the largest in the city; the other rooms are light and lofty; in short, under the zealous superintendence of Mr. and Mrs. Chambers, none who once make acquaintance with the Albion will ever sigh for better or more comfortable quarters. Behind the Hotel are extensive pleasure-grounds, as well as a verdant and spacious Bowling-green, to which there is a carriage entrance from Park Street.Only a step or two from the Albion, and on the same side, near the residence of Mr. Snape, the eminent dentist, is St. Olave’s Lane, so named from the Lilliputian church, dedicated to that saint, at its south-west corner. This Church dates back earlier than the Conquest. The advowson in the eleventh century was vested in the Botelers or Butlers; from whom it passed by gift of Richard Pincerna, in 1101, to the Abbey of St. Werburgh. St. Olave’s appears to have been always “in low water,” a starving rather than a living; for in 1393, on account of its poverty, the parish was temporarily united with St. Mary’s. Down to the seventeenth century, however, it eked out a precarious existence; but after the close of the civil war, the ordinary services of the church were discontinued for about a century; when they were again resumed, until the final extinction of St. Olave’s as a distinct parish, in 1841. In that year the Church was finally closed, and the parish united to that of St. Michael. The “powers that be” are fast allowing this ancient structure to develop into a ruin.

Lower Bridge Street, and Albion Hotel

Opposite to St. Olave’s is Castle Street; beyond which, up a flight of steps, is a large tenement, of late years known as the Boarding-School Yard. This was in the seventeenth century the mansion-house of the Gamulls, a worthy Cheshire family; and here, on September 27, 1645, Sir Francis Gamull (Mayor of Chester in 1634) lodged and entertained Charles I. on his Majesty’s visit to Chester during the great Civil War. The house is now divided into tenements; but several of the rooms still retain evidence of their original splendour.

Still farther down, we have upon the left Duke Street, and on the right Shipgate Street, through which, in old time, the citizens used to pass by way of the Ship Gate, across the river, into Handbridge. It leads also to St. Mary’s Hill; on the summit of which, half-embowered in trees, we are introduced to the ancient Church of St. Mary.

St. Mary’s Church is in all probability of Norman foundation; and is in old writings termed indifferently St. Mary’s of the Castle, and St. Mary’s upon the Hill, to distinguish it from the handsome Church of the White Friars, which was also dedicated to that saint. Randle Gernons, fourth earl of Chester, presented the advowson to the Monastery of St. Werburgh; but shortly after the dissolution it was wrested from the dean and chapter by that rapacious spoiler of churches and religious houses, Sir R. Cotton, who afterwards sold it for 100l. to John Brereton of Wettenhall. In this family it continued for about a century, when it passed by purchase to the Wilbrahams of Dorfold. From them it came by marriage to the Hills of Hough, whose representative sold it to the father of the present Marquis of Westminster. Of no external beauty, with a tower of miserably stunted proportions (so built in 1715, in order that it might not overlook the Castle), St. Mary’s Church is nevertheless well deserving a visit from all lovers of true ecclesiastical order. Here is a Church which, when we first remember it, was a disgrace alike to the authorities and to the parish—choked up with galleries of hideous shape and size—disfigured with pews of unsightly construction,—the walls and ceilings buried in plaster, whitewash, and dust, and the monuments and windows all alike in a state of ruin and decay. Let us step into the Church, and survey the change which has been effected within a few short years. We are no sooner inside, than we are at once convinced that this is indeed the House of God, gradually, and, under the auspices of the present worthy rector, judiciously returning to its first estate, as a seemly temple, worthy of the Most High. Here is none of that venerable dust, that insidious mould, so painfully visible in other churches we might mention; but everything we see, from the floor to the ceiling, from the altar to the organ, is both correct in taste, scrupulously clean, and in most beautiful, Church-like order. The Church consists of a nave, with a clerestory of twelve lights, and a handsome panelled roof adorned with Christian monograms and devices,—two side aisles,—two chancel chapels, named respectively Troutbeck’s and St. Catherine’s,—and a spacious chancel, in which are some elaborately carved stalls and open seats. So rapidly as stolid prejudice will admit, this uniform style of seat will be adopted throughout the Church.

The monuments within the Church are of considerable interest. One there is, in the north aisle, profuse in heraldic display, to the imperishable memory of the four Randal Holmes, local antiquaries and heralds of considerable note, whose united Cheshire collections fill more than 250 MS. volumes in the British Museum. The third Randal was the author of that extraordinary and scarce heraldic work,—the “Academy of Armory” published in 1688. An elegant modern brass, and two altar-tombs of curious workmanship, adorn St. Catherine’s Chapel, at the end of this aisle. One of the latter remembers Thomas Gamull, Recorder of Chester in 1613, son of Edmund Gamull, aforetime Mayor of Chester, and father of the celebrated royalist Sir Francis Gamull, who suffered sequestration of his estates during the Usurpation. The recumbent figures of the Recorder and his wife Alice appear upon the tomb; and at the feet of the lady kneels their infant son, afterwards the loyal Sir Francis Gamull. Their three infant daughters, holding skulls in their hands, and two elaborate shields of arms, ornament the side of the tomb. A similar tomb near bears the half-recumbent effigy of Philip Oldfield of Bradwall, dressed in the costume of the period, with a long gown and ruff, and a roll in his left hand. The figures of his four sons, each bearing a shield of arms, support the slab on which he leans, and between them a painted skeleton, in a similar attitude to the effigy, appears on the side of the tomb. Two daughters kneel at his head, and these also bear shields, in token of their marriage. Both these monuments are deserving the attention of the curious.

One of the north windows, by the side of these relics, is filled with stained glass. The east window also of this aisle, attracting the eye of the visitor the moment he enters, has just been adorned with an obituary memorial of intense national interest. Erected by public subscription, this window commemorates the glorious deeds of the gallant 23rd Regiment (Royal Welsh Fusileers) at the battles of Alma, Inkermann, and Sebastopol in 1854–5. The 23rd is a regiment highly esteemed by the Cestrians, nay, almost regarded by them as their own; and most of those brave spirits, officers and men, who nobly fell “with their faces to the foe” on those hard-won fields, had but a few months before regularly attended divine service at St. Mary’s Church. The subject represented in the window is Aaron and Hur holding up the hands of Moses, while the patriarch blesses the warring hosts of Israel; for as we read, in Exodus xvii. ver. 11, 12, “Moses’ hands were heavy, and Aaron and Hur stayed up his hands, the one on the one side, and the other on the other; for it came to pass, that when Moses held up his hands Israel prevailed, and when his hands fell down, Amalek prevailed.” It is a pretty and appropriate subject for such a memorial as this, implying the Christian Soldier’s dependence upon the God of Battles!

The chancel, and Troutbeck chapel in the south aisle, also contain some tasteful and appropriate painted windows, ancient and modern; and on the south wall of the latter were discovered, a few years ago, some curious remains of ancient mural painting, representing the Crucifixion and Resurrection in curious juxtaposition with the figures of a King, a Bishop, and the red and white roses of York and Lancaster. The many beautiful monuments once embellishing the Troutbeck aisle were destroyed by the falling in of the roof in 1660. In bidding adieu to the church of St. Mary the Virgin, we may confidently assert that “ne vile fano” is the motto of Mr. Massie, the present rector, [77] for a neater and better ordered church we have not yet met with in our tour through the city.

Once more returning to Lower Bridge Street, we have before us the Bridgegate, and two or three choice but eccentric-looking houses of the wood and plaster type, as depicted in our engraving.

Passing under the Bridgegate, by the Dee Mills and Old Bridge, we might, if we chose, wander forth into Handbridge, were there anything in that suburb deserving our especial notice. As it is, however, we will make good our return to The Cross, and pursue, in the next chapter, our peregrinations through the Streets of “rare old Chester!”

The Bridge Gate

The view here engraved affords a capital idea of the old timber houses still glorifying the city; while we gain, at the same time, such a prospect of the Bridge Gate as is not to be obtained from any other point.