Montecuculi observes, that they excelled all nations in the art of casting large cannon, and gives some remarkable details as to their bringing their gunmetal up the Danube, on the occasion of one of their invasions of the Austrian dominions, and actually casting cannon before the towns which they invested and besieged. This he tells us was done by sinking pits in the earth, and lining them with a composition which formed a mould for the gun. The casting of any very large piece of ordnance was treated by the Turks as a grand ceremony; the Sultan himself often attended, and on such occasions the great officers and pachas present were in the habit of casting purses of gold into the liquid metal, as a special homage and compliment to the presence of their sovereign. It is difficult to believe that large sums of gold should thus have been wasted, in what at best was an absurd piece of adulation; but the prodigality and ostentation of the Turks of that period, when, in the insolence of their riches and military power, they threatened to overrun the finest countries of Europe, would account for almost any display in honour of Solyman, whose ambition, ability, and spirit had elevated the military character of the Turks to a higher standard of renown than it ever attained before or after his long and glorious reign.

In order to clear up the question, and ascertain the existence or not of the supposed alloy, the LieutenantGovernor of the Tower applied in June, 1865, to Mr. Graham, the Master of the Mint, who obligingly deputed Mr. Field, an experienced officer of that department, to

make the trial, by chipping off a small piece of the muzzle, where it had been, as before mentioned, sawn off, and subjecting it to the scientific tests so well understood at the Mint. After a close examination, it turned out that there was not a particle of gold in the metal, but a large proportion of copper, which had given it the colour by which the thieves, who sawed off the extremity, had probably been deceived into the belief that it contained gold.

There are two handsome guns on the Parade which were placed in the Tower at the end of the Seven Years' War, having been cast at Woolwich from some cannon captured from the French in the second expedition to Cherbourg in 1758. It was a strange notion thus to commemorate that affair, for, although the surprise of Cherbourg placed the French cannon from which these two guns were made in the hands of the English, yet the troops, when they afterwards sailed round and landed near St. Malo, which they found too strong to attack, behaved with such irregularity, and such gross carelessness and bad arrangements occurred on their march to St. Cass, that the Commander, General Bligh, surprised by a superior force hastily collected by the Duc d'Aiguillon, was in his turn defeated with loss, and his soldiers driven into the sea in attempting to regain their transports. General Dury, the second in command, made a gallant endeavour to rally a battalion of the Foot Guards, who were covering the rear, but the confusion was irretrievable, and, being much weakened by a wound received in the conflict, he perished in trying to swim off to a boat.

In the Tower collection there are many fine speci

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mens of ornamental casting, but that which specially attracts notice from an admirer of art, is a superb 12-lb. gun captured at Malta, in the upper room above the Horse Armoury. Nothing can be more bold and masterly than the shape of the dragon which forms the main portion of the carriage, and it is evidently from the design of a master-hand.

As a proof how few inventions have not had some former origin in one form or another, there is preserved, in the upper chamber of the Horse Armoury, a revolver, which dates from the reign of James I. It is of course a clumsy affair, but the principle is exactly similar to Colonel Colt's celebrated invention.

The banqueting-hall and council-chamber of the White Tower have been admirably fitted up (and without any sacrifice of their original architectural features) as armouries for the conservation of the store of rifles for the direct regimental supply of the army; nor is it by any means a mere display, for every musket (and there are 60,000) is in the best of order, and fit for immediate use. For practical purposes this is in every respect a far better arrangement than the old plan of keeping the arms in chests, for whatever care might be bestowed on the packing, it was hardly possible to make sure of the exclusion of damp; and it is needless to observe on the mischief which arises with so delicate a machine as the present musket, from the smallest effects of rust on the highly finished steel-work of the lock.

THE CONSTABLES OF THE TOWER.

HE office of Constable of the Tower dates from the Conquest. One of the first on record was Geoffrey de Mandeville, a famous warrior, who came over with William the Conqueror and received from him large possessions in various parts of England.

His grandson, created Earl of Essex by King Stephen, and appointed by him to the government of the Tower, was confirmed in that post by the Empress Maud.

The office of Constable was not confined to military persons in the earlier reigns. Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, was Constable in Richard I.'s time, and was succeeded by Walter de Coutances, Archbishop of Rouen. In the reign of John, we find Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury, holding this office. In Henry I.'s time, Pandulph, Bishop of Norwich, and William, Archbishop of York, appear in the list of Constables, and also Walter, another Archbishop of York. In Edward II.'s reign, Stapleton, Bishop of Exeter, became Constable, but he appears to have been the last clerical dignitary to whose custody the Tower was confided.

To notice a few of the most celebrated and remarkable on the List of Constables. Mandeville, Earl of Essex, who was Governor of the Tower in Henry II.'s reign, surrendered his office to the King, and deliberately adopted the life of an outlaw, robbing abbeys, and committing dreadful outrages in all directions, till, encouraged by success in his restless career, he laid siege to a Royal Castle at Burwell, in Cambridgeshire. While making a reconnaissance of this fortress, the heat of the weather induced him to take off his helmet, when an archer from the battlements sent an arrow through his head, and killed him on the spot. As Mandeville had been excommunicated by the Pope, none of his followers dared to bury him; but the Knights Templars of London, from regard to his rank, and some services he had rendered to their Order, brought his corpse to the Temple, clothed in the habit of a Templar, and, placing it in a leaden coffin, slung it up with ropes, to some trees in their garden, till an opportunity occurred for interring it privately, in front of the west door of their Church.

Hubert de Burgh, whose long and eminent services to his country should have secured for him the support of his Sovereign Henry II. against the malice of his enemies, was forced to seek sanctuary in the Priory of Merton, upon a false accusation of treason made against him by the Bishop of Winchester. But the King, in his fury, sent an armed force to drag him from the Altar, causing him to be brought to London, with his legs tied, like a malefactor, under his horse's belly, and threw him into a dungeon. This outrage of the right of sanctuary