aven with a
kind of natural beauty, not as if man had contrived them. They might be
fancied to have grown up, just as the spires of a tuft of grass do, at the
same time that they have a law of propriety and regularity among
themselves. The tall spire is of such admirable proportion that it does
not seem gigantic; and, indeed, the effect of the whole edifice is of
beauty rather than weight and massiveness. Perhaps the bright, balmy
sunshine in which we saw it contributed to give it a tender glory, and to
soften a little its majesty.

When we went in, we heard the organ, the forenoon service being near
conclusion. If I had never seen the interior of York Cathedral, I should
have been quite satisfied, no doubt, with the spaciousness of this nave
and these side aisles, and the height of their arches, and the girth of
these pillars; but with that recollection in my mind they fell a little
short of grandeur. The interior is seen to disadvantage, and in a way the
builder never meant it to be seen; because there is little or no painted
glass, nor any such mystery as it makes, but only a colorless, common
daylight, revealing everything without remorse. There is a general light
hue, moreover, like that of whitewash, over the whole of the roof and
walls of the interior, pillar, monuments, and all; whereas, originally,
every pillar was polished, and the ceiling was ornamented in brilliant
colors, and the light came, many-hued, through the windows, on all this
elaborate beauty, in lieu of which there is nothing now but space.

Between the pillars that separate the nave from the side aisles there are
ancient tombs, most of which have recumbent statues on them. One of these
is Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, son of Fair Rosamond, in chain mail; and
there are many other warriors and bishops, and one cross-legged Crusader,
and on one tombstone a recumbent skeleton, which I have likewise seen in
two or three other cathedrals. The pavement of the aisles and nave is laid
in great part with flat tombstones, the inscriptions on which are half
obliterated, and on the walls, especially in the transepts, there are
tablets, among which I saw one to the poet Bowles, who was a canon of the
cathedral....

Between the nave and the choir, as usual, there is a screen that half
destroys the majesty of the building, by abridging the spectator of the
long vista which he might otherwise have of the whole interior at a
glance. We peeped through the barrier