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 hill, looks well from almost everywhere; each view has its special character and charm, and no one can be said to be better than another. As we returned to our inn and looked up the High Street, the prospect presented to us of the cathedral raised high over the red-roofed houses, gabled walls, and gray bits of medieval masonry peeping out here and there, with just a touch of mystery superadded by the blue film of smoke that floated veil-like over the lower city, was most poetic; gold and gray showed the sentinel towers as they stood in sunshine or shadow, softly outlined against the darkening sky. Another most effective view of Lincoln is from "the pool," where the river widens out; here the fore-*ground is changed from houses to reflective water with sleepy shipping thereon, shipping of the homely kind that navigates inland waters. But from almost every point "below hill," where the cathedral can be seen as a whole—there is a picture such as the true artist loves; not sensational at all, but simply beautiful and benevolent, which is more to my mind. Lincoln as a picture charms, it does not astonish; it is supremely effective without being in the least theatrical or unreal; unlike the architectural scenery of Italy—if I may be allowed the term—it does not suggest the painting of a drop-scene, nor the background of an opera!

Lincoln "above hill" is not only one of the most pleasant cities in England, it is also one of the most picturesque; it is beautiful close at hand, it is beautiful beheld at a distance.

In the evening we had evidence of having come