and rises about ten feet above the roof. Almost any mason could
have built this church. A luxuriant growth of ivy covers nearly all its
parts. Rude in outline and finish are all its parts, ivy has added to St.
Martin's the only beauty it could possibly claim.

The interior bears heavier marks of age than do the walls outside. The
chancel has walls built almost entirely of Roman brick, and the nave is
without columns. The old font--certainly one of the first constructed in
England--stands in the chancel. It was probably from this font that King
Ethelbert was baptized. Both chronicle and tradition say good Bertha was
buried here. A recess in the wall of the chancel contains an old stone
coffin, which is believed to contain the dust of England's first Christian
queen. Standing within this ancient structure, one feels that he has
reached the source for Anglo-Saxon people of this modern faith,
Christianity, and the civilization it has given to the world. A new race
of pilgrims, as numerous as those who went to Becket's shrine, might well
find as worthy an object of their gifts and their journeys in this
ivy-mantled relic of ancient days.

OLD YORK [Footnote: From "Gray Days and Gold." By arrangement with the
publishers, Moffat, Yard & Co. Copyright by William Winter, 1890.]

BY WILLIAM WINTER

The pilgrim to York stands in the center of the largest shire in England,
and is surrounded by castles and monasteries, now mostly in ruins, but
teeming with those associations of history and literature that are the
glory of this delightful land. From the summit of the great central tower
of the cathedral, which is reached by 237 steps, I gazed, one morning,
over the vale of York and beheld one of the loveliest spectacles that ever
blest the eyes of man. The wind was fierce, the sun brilliant, and the
vanquished storm-clouds were streaming away before the northern blast. Far
beneath lay the red-roofed city, its devious lanes and its many great
churches,--crumbling relics of ancient ecclesiastical power,--distinctly
visible. Through the plain, and far away toward the south and east, ran
the silver thread of the Ouse, while all around, as far as the eye could
see, stretched forth a smiling landscape of green meadow and cultivated
field; here a patch of woodland, and there a silver gleam of wave; here a
manor house nestled amid stately trees, and there an ivy-covered fragment
of ruined masonry; and everywhere the green lines of t