Durham Cathedral. 279 



faint morning light catches the highest towers of the 

 Cathedral, and runs a ribbon of white round the grey 

 rugged high lines of the Castle walls and turrets. We 

 pass on and on over the Bridge, and look up the river, to 

 hear it — yes, we can in the comparative silence almost 

 hear it — rushing over yonder weir by the mill, and 

 then come purling onward, as the trees by its borders 

 on the left faintly outline themselves in the water. Up 

 and up we then ascend the climbing street before us, 

 round by the Market Square, with its two quaint 

 statues, and round again we turn and make our way 

 to the Cathedral, and walk about it. None of the good 

 folks in the precincts are yet astir ; but a dog has found 

 its way out, and comes and sniffs suspiciously at us 

 strangers, and then goes off, surly and dissatisfied 

 and doubtful, to inform his master of our intrusion^ for 

 he scrapes at one of the doors. Even the dogs in 

 Cathedral precincts take on a kind of stiff self-restraint 

 and official wariness. The rooks and jackdaws are 

 busy at their nest-buildings, and caw and chatter in 

 the oddest manner among the trees and shrubs about. 



We walk from point to point, gathering quite a new 

 idea of the extent of this reverend old structure, with 

 its great central tower, and its unique twin-pair of 

 towers almost overhanging the river, and its tapering 

 turrets at the other end. We pause and admire their 

 admirable pose, so striking near at hand, so insignifi- 

 cant seen from afar, dwarfed entirely by their greater 

 brethren. Then we go and look, and are lost in admi- 

 ration of the fine Catherine or wheel-window. The 

 masons are at work at this side of the fabric, for there 

 is weathering in this fine pile, and stones are being cut 

 to replace those that are here hopelessly wasted. 



We might tell much of the history of this old 



