the stone was obtained for the York Minster or Cathedral. The huge edifice itself soon rises to view, like a mountain, and continues in sight nearly the whole way, till you reach the city. The prominence of this object and the distant hills beyond, with a beautiful champain country for a foreground to the picture, render the approach by no means uninteresting. On the right of the road we passed the racecourse, which is celebrated in the annals of the turf, Yorkshire being distinguished by the excellence of its horses. Another object struck us much more forcibly and agreeablya long procession of young ladies, nearly of the same age and in a neat uniform dress, who are attending school at the Nunnery in the suburbs of York.

Our entrance into this ancient city, which at times has been the seat of political power, as it still is of ecclesiastical, was by Micklegate, one of the principal avenues. Passing under a lofty arch, which forms a part of the old wall, and crossing a stately bridge over the Ouse, a broad, dark, and sluggish stream, we arrived at 7 o'clock.

Although the evening was now fast closing in, and its shades were deepened by cloudy skies; yet so eager was our curiosity to catch a glance at the principal object of our visit to York, that we hastened to the Minster immediately after our arrival. It is indeed a stupendous pile, lifting its gigantic and massive proportions with the utmost grandeur, and making a deeper impression upon the mind, than any structure we had seen, not excepting Westminster Abbey or St. Paul's. In character it differs somewhat from both of these, having a less venerable and solemn air than the aged turrets of the former, and less magnificence than the finished proportions and classic ornaments of the latter. It is by no means deficient in symmetry and architectural beauty; yet these things are not thought of at the first view. The spectator gazes with admiration and reverential awe at the immensity of the fabric, which seems too mighty for the work of human hands, and to resemble one of those masses of matter reared by the agency of the Creator. Its apparent magnitude and the sublimity of its image were probably heightened by the obscurity of twilight. Taking a position a few rods from the wail of one of its sides, we threw its dim outlines, like the shades of a picture, upon the sky, and were able to trace its form and the shadowy grandeur of its towers. This, with a walk round its walls, and an indistinct

view of the great Gothic window in the eastern end, was all that could be accomplished for the night. A solitary lamp was seen glimmering in the church, which was probably lighting some one to the tomb.

After breakfast the next morning, we returned to the Minster, or the Cathedral of St. Peter, and commenced an examination of it in detail. The grandeur of its exterior, the loftiness of its towers, and the beauty of its architecture detracted nothing from the admiration which the first view excited. Its length from east to west is 524 feet, its greatest breadth 222, and its height 235. The dimensions of the largest window are 75 feet by 32, which is said to exceed any in the world. Six centuries have elapsed since the oldest part of St. Peter's was erected. The different sections were a hundred and fifty years in building, and the style of architecture varies according to the taste of the age in which the respective portions were finished. There is not, however, so much discrepancy, as materially to break the harmony of the several parts, or destroy the grandeur of the general effect. The whole edifice is of the Gothic order. with such modifications as a century and half introduced. Whatever might be the original colour of the stone, exposure to the storms and sunshine of so many ages has mellowed its tints and imparted to it a sombre complexion, which best comports with the sober character of a temple, and deepens the feeling of religious awe.

The interior cannot be compared with Westminster Abbey or even with St. Paul's in point of interest: not that it is deficient in collossal pillars, noble arches, and magnificent windows, nor in the lesser embellishments of the pencil and chisel; for in these respects it is scarcely inferior to either of the above. Its stupendous dome, its clustered columns, its vaulted ceiling, and "long-drawn aisles," are all admirable. It has its shrines and its monuments too in sufficient number; but they are not of the right kind--they are such as one approaches without emotion and leaves without regret —such as are necessary to perpetuate the names of archbishops who fretted out a little day of "brief authority," and left no memorials for the world to admire, except their rings, caps, chalices, and crosiers. These sacerdotal relics, some of which lay in the tomb for five hundred years and were disinterred from motives of interest, may all be seen in the vestry for eighteen pence. We went the usual rounds,

and saw every thing; but I recollect few of the personages whom shrines, slabs, and tablets commemorate, except archbishop Scrope, who had the genius to be a demagogue, and was beheaded for high treason; and Sterne, an ancestor of the eccentric and immortal Yorick.

Within the pale of the altar stands an antique chair, which is really a curiosity. It is said to be as old as the Heptarchy, and several of the Saxon monarchs were crowned in it. Its form and decrepid frame, actually wasted away and enfeebled by old age, leave little doubt of its antiquity. Its shape is that of the curile-chair of the Romans. Among the relics of the church is the ivory horn of Ulphus, made of an elephant's tusk, and originally finished with golden ornaments. Ulphus, a Prince of the ancient Deira, presented it to St. Peter's, with all his estates, that his two sons might not quarrel about a partition of them. The large wooden goblet is also shown, which Scrope gave to the cordwainers.

We climbed to the topmost stone of the Cathedral by a flight of 273 steps-so said the guide, and we did not put his accuracy to the test by counting. It is certain there were enough of them to render us both giddy and weary before reaching the last. In the year 1663, the first Charles ascended by the same dark and tedious passage, and this too, under less favourable cir umstances than ourselves. "After dinner, the King went to the Minster, and so up to the top of the Lanterne, to view the city and country." He must have been amply remunerated for his toil, if his prospect was as wide, as rich, and as beautiful as ours, from a height of 235 feet. York and its environs lay stretched before us, over which we could travel without an effort, commanding a horizon of fifty or sixty miles in diameter, and so level that the most prominent objects could be traced as upon a mup. Through the town and its rural suburbs, the Ouse extends in bold and bright meanders, till its peaceful waters are con cealed from the eye, by the verdure of its banks. In other directions there is a sufficiency of woods and streams, hamlets and spires, to give variety to the picture.

After you have seen the Minster you have seen all that is worthy of notice about York. The antiquary may find some fragments of Roman alters, with half obliterated inscriptions--some curious remains of the old wall, and its arches-some castles, fortresses, and abbeys in ruinsand the traveller who feels disposed to linger, may find em

ployment for a day or two in examining the literary and charitable institutions of York, which sustain a high reputation, and are unusually numerous for a population not much exceeding 20,000. The remainder of our visit was occupied in a walk to St. Mary's Abbey, situate upon the immediate bank of the Ouse; a picturesque pile of prostrate walls, broken columns, and mouldering arches-to Clifford's Tower, the keep to the ancient castle, perched upon a woody and romantic eminence near the city-to the spacious prison in the vicinity-to the new and beautiful promenade, extending for a mile along the bank of the river, crossing the Fosse on a rustic bridge, and bordered by lofty forest trees-and lastly through the market, which was crowded with throngs of people from the surrounding country, who in a concert of a thousand voices were jabbering the Yorkshire dialect in its broadest and most unsophisticated perfection.

On the 3d we left in a post-chase for Harrowgate, another watering-place, distant twenty-three miles from York. In this ride, we crossed Marston Moor which, in the year 1664, was the scene of a great battle between the Parliament forces, under the command of Sir Thomas Fairfax, the Earl of Leven, and the Earl of Manchester; and the Royalists, headed by Prince Rupert. The two armies were nearly equal in point of numbers, consisting of about 25,000 each; and the conflict which took place on the second of July, was long and bloody. It terminated, as is well known in the defeat of the royal party, the triumph of Cromwell's influence, and the surrender of the king, who was sold to the revolutionary parliament by the Scots for 200,000/; a sum which exceeds the value of most monarchs. In the course of our tour, I forget where, we saw a pretty painting of Prince Rupert, bearing the royal standard upon this field, mounted on his charger, without his hat and with his bosom bare. It struck me as a bold, forcible and expressive picture.

No traces of the battle can now be discovered. The moor has been reclaimed, and divided into small fields of tillage. In surveying at evening the peaceful landscape, waving with harvests, and reposing in rural quiet, it was difficult to realize, that it had ever exhibited the tumults of contending armies, and been the arena, on which ambition fought its way to a throne, and the fate of kings was decided.

Just at dusk we reached Knaresborough, a large town

upon the river Nid, by which it is nearly encircled It has long been a place of some importance, and at present contains a population of four or five thousand. Knaresborough furnishes a striking instance of what is termed a “rotten borough." It sends two members to Parliament, who are elected by one hundred persons, not freemen, but tenants and vassals, entirely under the control of one or two of the nobility. It is surely mere mockery to talk of a representative body, composed in such a way, chosen by a handful of the veriest machines, while hundreds of thousands of men of property have no voice in the election!

At8 o'clock in the evening, we arrived at Harrowgate. On reaching the hotel, in the upper town, it was ascertained before leaving the chaise, that others were apparently happy, if we were not. The windows of the hall were open, and several cotillion parties were seen threading the mazes of the dance, to the sound of merry music. It was with some difficulty, that we obtained lodgings for the night, the house being filled from top to bottom. An invitation was at once extended to us, to join the dance; but the trouble of making a toilet at a late hour, induced us to forego the pleasures of a gala, and to prefer the quiet of our chambers after the fatigues of the day.

In the morning we were ushered into a large drawingroom, where something like fifteen or twenty parties were taking breakfast at separate tables, in the manner of a commercial coffee-house. Little or no intercourse takes place between the different clans, and each attends to his own tea and toast. Such a custom is far less social, than the long table at Matlock, where chance often throws strangers together and sometimes leads to agreeable acquaintances. Besides, it is very awkward for one table to stare at another, and unavoidably to hear conversation directed to a particular circle, and not intended to be public.

Breakfast being over, we walked a mile and a half, to Low Harrogate, to visit the principal spring and take a view of the town. Neither of them afforded us a high degree of pleasure. The waters are very strongly impregnated with sulphur. They are no doubt efficacious in certain complaints; but it was a subject of congratulation with us, that we were afflicted with no maladies, which could be removed by such a remedy. There are several fountains, the prettiest of which, named Cheltenham, is situate near the bank