Michael's Church, Crooked
Lane, toward the supporting of a chaplain. For some time the
vestry meetings were regularly held there, but it was observed
that the old Boar never held up his head under church government.
He gradually declined, and finally gave his last gasp about
thirty years since. The tavern was then turned into shops; but
she informed me that a picture of it was still preserved in St.
Michael's Church, which stood just in the rear. To get a sight of
this picture was now my determination; so, having informed myself
of the abode of the sexton, I took my leave of the venerable
chronicler of Eastcheap, my visit having doubtless raised greatly
her opinion of her legendary lore and furnished an important
incident in the history of her life.
It cost me some difficulty and much curious inquiry to ferret out
the humble hanger-on to the church. I had to explore Crooked Lane
and divers little alleys and elbows and dark passages with which
this old city is perforated like an ancient cheese, or a
worm-eaten chest of drawers. At length I traced him to a corner
of a small court surrounded by lofty houses, where the
inhabitants enjoy about as much of the face of heaven as a
community of frogs at the bottom of a well.
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