Beyond question, however, the most impressive legacies of our English forefathers are to be found in the ecclesiastical structures which are so profusely scattered throughout every part of the island. Parish churches, abbeys, priories, chapels, or cathedrals, they stand as monumental pillars in the stream of time, everywhere filling us with a sense of the mingled grandeur and beauty of conception on the part of their builders. To the lastnamed class of these wonderful structures -as the highest exponents of the art and skill of the Middle Ages-it is my present purpose to devote a few pages of loving recollection. We shall find in them at least a science and a taste to which our own times, with all their boasted superiority, can lay no rightful claim. Would that architectural knowledge might bid the world another such farewell as when she left her departing footsteps at Canterbury and Westminster, at York, Salisbury, and Lincoln! The cathedral, then, is the head church, the central edifice, of the diocese, in which the chair or seat of the bishop is always placed. From this fact its name (from the Greek katédpa, a seat) is derived. Of these, twenty-nine are still maintained as full cathedral establishments in the two provinces of Canterbury and York. With very few, and generally accidental, exceptions, these beautiful structures are all built in the form of a cross on the ground plan, the principal entrance being invariably turned to the west. Thus the western elevation is always considered the principal front of the structure. It usually comprises a wide central door, with a large and highly ornate window above it, and a central gable rising still above thris, all of which features are parts of the nave, or central portion of the structure. Two towers, which generally flank this centre on either side, contain the side doors and windows above them, and rise boldly above the roof line of the centre to a considerable height from the ground. These western towers are sometimes terminated by an open battlement with pinnacles at the angles, as at Gloucester and York. Sometimes, as at Lichfield, they shoot up into lofty and graceful spires. Proceeding eastward from this principal entrance front, the longer arm of the cross before mentioned lies between the western entrance and the intersection of the transverse arms, and forms the nave, or body of the church. The aisles are continued along the whole length of the nave on either side of it, and separated from it only by the columns and arches which support the clear-story walls above, while in width they correspond very nearly with the width of the western towers. Arrived now at the centre of the structure, the transverse arms of the cross lie before us. As these extend always on the north and south sides of the building, they are called the north and south transepts respectively. They are carried to the same height as the walls of the nave, and generally have aisles attached to ei ther side of them, with piers and open arches in the same way. The portion of the edifice lying east of the crux, or intersection, is the choir, or chancel, containing the altar at its extreme east end, over which is always the finest and most richly painted window in the building. The cloisters are a covered walk, the roofs of which are much lower than the walls of the church, generally placed on the south side of the nave. A chapel was frequently added to the eastward of the choir, dedicated in Roman Catholic times to the Virgin Mary, and thence called the lady-chapel to this day. The chapter-house, generally a beautiful octagonal structure, with one column in the centre, appears to have been placed indifferently on either side of the exterior of the choir, but connected always with the main building by a convenient passageway. In this apartment the dean and canons, who together constitute the staff of the cathedral clergy, are accustomed to meet on affairs generally of a purely secular nature, and for the purpose of discussing and settling matters connected with the business and revenues of the diocese. To return to the interior of the church. On each side of the choir, or easternmost arm of the cross, are ranged the seats or stalls for the accommodation of the clergy who are present at the services of the cathedral. These stalls are almost invariably of ancient oak, having canopies overhead enriched with the most delicate and exquisite carvings. The prayers are intoned from the proper desk, and the lessons of Scripture are read from the eagle-stand, or lecturn, by one or more of the clergy, assisted in the responses, the psalms, the anthems, and the other musical parts of the service by a choir of boys and men, one half ranged on either side of the building. Over the intersection of the four arms. of the cross, before described, rises the lofty square central tower, supported within by massive piers and bold arches, and often surmounted by a rich and magnificent spire. Those of Lichfield, Norwich, Chichester, and Salisbury are among the most beautiful and celebrated structures of this kind in the kingdom. Nothing in the whole range of art can possibly be finer or more impressive than the effect of these noble spires, the well-defined conception of aspiring majesty-their foundations, indeed, laid deep and solid in the earth, but their summits soaring boldly away toward the heavens, and bearing aloft the cross, "the emblem," says Pugin, "of man's redemption, set on high between the anger of God and the sins of the city." I have said that the west front is generally regarded as the principal front of the cathedral. But this results rather from the fact of its being the point most remote from the altar, which, with its surrounding sanctuary, was always placed, accord ing to the custom of those early times, if | church was to be dedicated, and taking not toward the exact east, at least in an easterly direction. This choice of location arose from the custom prevalent in the Middle Ages of keeping a "vigil" on the night previous to the festival of the particular saint in honor of whom the the point where the sun arose in the morning as the place toward which the altar of the new structure was to be turned. This is known as the principle of orientation. But as the precise point where the sun first appears is found to vary very consid erably during the course of the year, it follows that the position of a church which is dedicated to any saint whose festival falls at midsummer-as that of St. Peter or St. John the Baptist-will show a considerable variation from that of another whose saint's day occurs at Advent or Christmas-tide. In either case, however, the great painted window over the altar was so placed that it might catch the first rays of the morning sun, and thence diffuse its returning light over the whole interior. And this great window was always rich with all the glow of pictured legend and saintly device-the culmina- | ting point of the series of "storied windows richly dight," which were continued round the walls of the church, and lent such a charm of warmth and color to the whole of its spacious interior. sible not to admire the delicious cultivation of the landscape, which everywhere presented a succession of the loveliest pictures to the eye. The hedge-rows of hawthorn, holly, and privet, here and there interspersed with taller trees rising from among them, and thus breaking up what would otherwise become a tame uniformity of lines; the broad, smiling fields fresh with the glittering rain-drops, and occasionally dotted by the whitest possible sheep, or tenanted by placid-looking cows, so intent upon their grazing as rarely to lift their heads for a glance at the passing train; the groups of quiet horses gravely standing in circles, and literally putting their heads together under a tree; the delicate grass-green of the new-mown hay, relieved by the golden color of the ricks which had already been gathered up; the long, low, rambling farm-houses with their tiled or thatched roofs, occasionally gathered into hamlets around the humble gray tower or the more conspicuous spire of some ancient village church-all these, together with the distant windmills, rolling their white sails lazily round in the sunshine, combined to form a picture which is enchanting indeed, beyond any power of expression, to the stranger who comes to it fresh from the newer and more prosaic life of our Western world. The language of description may at least be owned inadequate to convey anything more than a faint outline of the constant variety of loveliness, and the almost inexhaustible combinations of beauty. I had already passed nearly three weeks in England without seeing a cathedral. But I had resolved that my first impressions of the full force of Gothic architecture should be taken from the great minster at Salisbury. Well did I remember an old colored print of it, with its surrounding grounds, which had come into my possession as a Christmas present in my school-boy days, and made a deep and lasting impression on my youthful imagination. It was not, however, without a lingering feeling of regret, accompanied by many a parting look behind, that I at length left Oxford by the railway train for Salisbury. It happened to be on a mild and pleasant, though occasionally showery, day in July-one of those days But as all things in this world, and, when the weeping skies of an English journeys in particular, have a natural midsummer remind the traveller of all end, the train drew up at last at a modest that he has read and admired of the pas- station, which the guard announced in the toral quietude and beauty of that delight- usual curt fashion as "Salsb'ry stop." ful season. As the gardens and groves, Without waiting to give much thought to the towers, the domes, and the graceful | my luggage for the moment, I rushed to the spires, of the fine old seat of learning I opposite door of the office, which I judged had left behind me faded from the view and not incorrectly-might afford an and were lost in the blue distance, I felt most forcibly that the few days I had passed there had been far too short a period to convey any very distinct picture of their individual beauties to the mind. A momentary pang could not but steal across me as I bade them a premature farewell, despite even of the reflection that I had a still higher pleasure before me. But the ride itself was soon sufficient to dispel any but the most pleasurable feelings. As we flew rapidly along the line of the railway, it would have been impos uninterrupted view of the town. The scene which broke at once upon the eye it would not be easy to forget. There it stood, at a little distance only, before me— the grand gray old spire, as yet unharmed by the hand of time, shooting heavenward, from among rich masses of ancestral elms, to a height of more than four hundred feet, its fretted and lace-worked outline relieved against gorgeous banks of clouds in the reddening western sky. Beneath it stretched out the huge antique pile of nave, choir, and transepts, rising high above the surrounding houses, with | he is instinctively led to "worship and a broad, mellow light thrown across fall down and kneel before the Lord, our their walls, and their steep roofs and airy | Maker. pinnacles beautifully grouped, yet each The verger of the cathedral-a respectsharply defined in the clear warm light ful and intelligent though somewhat corof the summer evening. So fresh, so pulent official-who informed me that he sound, so perfect, after the lapse of six had been the butler of the last bishop, and hundred years, that it seemed as if the who, I suppose, had been promoted to his common destroyer had been awed by their snug position in reward for his faithful mysterious beauty, and while touching services in that responsible capacity, rethe majestic old pile here and there with | ceived me with a grave bow at the door of those indescribable tints of silver gray and the northwestern porch, and conducted russet brown which his finger alone can me without delay over the whole interior produce, had forborne to displace one of the building. In spite of a certain defragment from its buttresses, or to throw gree of coldness, arising from the destrucdown one stone from its venerable towers. tion of the painted windows with which After seeing my travelling equipments it was formerly adorned, the general efduly cared for at the famous White Hart fect is exceedingly striking, the entire uniHotel, I repaired at once to the minster. formity of the architecture contributing Passing under an arched gateway, at no not a little to its impressiveness and beaugreat distance from the inn, I found my- ty. Without entering into any minute self in the close, or cathedral precinct, im- or technical description of its details, it is mediately surrounding the church. The safe to say that the spectator can not fail houses in this spacious inclosure wear to be charmed with the noble breadth and that quiet and picturesque look peculiar simplicity of the stately pile. The yaultto such haunts of learned ease and com- ing is plainly and boldly executed, rising fortable seclusion. In the centre of the to the height of about eighty feet from whole, surrounded by lofty trees, velvet the pavement, and the nave arches are lawns, and nicely kept gravel-walks, adorned with an effective series of deep stood the venerable and impressive pile, mouldings, beneath which the slender colin all its solemn majesty, open on the umns look still more airy and elegant, east, north, and west sides, but hidden from their division into many separate from public view on the south by the shafts of dark Purbeck marble. The roof cloisters, the bishop's palace, and the is of the same materials as the walls of private gardens. From the open grounds the church—a freestone, obtained from which thus surround the building its the Chilmark quarries, situated about appearance is indeed unequalled by any- twelve miles from Salisbury, toward the thing of the kind which I have since village of Hindon, and still worked to the beheld. Erected in the boldest and pur-present day. The nave is divided into est period of the early Gothic, all its various parts are grouped together in the most masterly pyramidal outline, the long succession of buttresses and pinnacles, the sharp roofs and gables and lofty turrets, all leading the eye to the central point, the great spire, with a peculiar lightness and elegance, yet grandeur of effect, that can scarcely fail to call forth an involuntary exclamation of wonder and delight. The vertical line, so expressive, in its æsthetic significance, of the hopes and aspirations of Christianity, thus becomes the controlling feature of the composition, and the mind at once recognizes the idea that religious awe and profound solemnity of impression were the first and most earnest aims of its builders. It is a temple in which man feels it almost profanation to remain upright-a temple in which ten bays or arches, with a peculiarly beau- "As many days as in one year there be, This beautiful interior has, however, suffered in past years more than usual from ignorant and tasteless intermeddling. The very injudicious "restorations" perpetrated by the barbarous Wyatt toward |