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 unrivalled in England, with the possible exception of that of Durham which in a like manner stands imperial upon its rocky height above the smoky city; but Durham is dark and sombre, whilst Lincoln is bright and clean and beautiful. It may perhaps, though doubtfully, be conceded that Durham has the more romantic situation, and Lincoln the more picturesque—if one can distinguish so.

Lincoln may roughly be divided into two distinct portions, the more ancient and picturesque part being situated on the hill, and clustering immediately around the cathedral; the other and more modern, very modern mostly, with its railways and tram-lined streets, being situated on the level-lying land below; the descent from the former to the latter is by one of the steepest streets—it is called "the Steep" locally, if I remember aright—I verily believe in all England; indeed, it seemed to us, it could not well be much steeper without being perpendicular! In the quaint and ancient part, with its many reminders of the long ago in the shape of time-worn medieval buildings—from ruined castle, fortified gateway, gray and gabled home—we found a comfortable and quiet inn, such as befits a cathedral city; an inn standing almost under the shadow of the stately pile, that rose upwards close by, a solemn shapely mass of pearly-gray against the sunlit sky.

Having secured quarters for the night, the first thing we did was, naturally, to start forth and see the cathedral. Pray do not be alarmed, kind reader, I have neither the intention nor the desire to weary