etchings, and climbing still higher, looked from the grated window, whence gazed the lovely Lady Jane Grey, on the headless body of Lord Guilford Dudley, and entered the low, miserable dungeon, where Sir Walter Raleigh was nightly locked, while his chainless mind solaced itself with the composition of history.
Afterwards in a darkened room we were shown, through a rampart of iron bars, England's regalia, sceptre, ampulla, and christening font, the crown of poor Anne Boleyn, that of James the First, and the new one made for Victoria, sparkling with precious stones, and valued at two millions sterling.
The warders of the tower, with their flat hats or caps, encircled with wreaths, and laced frock- coats, lead the mind back to the time of Henry the Eighth, who established that gorgeous costume. I formed quite a friendship for the line of equestrian kings, knights, and cavaliers, from Henry the Sixth to James the First, who were ranged in full armor; and regretted their loss, when the subsequent conflagration at the tower destroyed so many relics, that time and tradition had made precious to mankind.
