alk, bordered
by the dwellings of the ecclesiastical dignitaries of the diocese. All
this row of episcopal, canonical, and clerical residences has an air of
the deepest quiet, repose, and well-protected, tho not inaccessible
seclusion. They seemed capable of including everything that a saint could
desire, and a great many more things than most of us sinners generally
succeed in acquiring. Their most marked feature is a dignified comfort,
looking as if no disturbance or vulgar intrusiveness could ever cross
their thresholds, encroach upon their ornamented lawns, or straggle into
the beautiful gardens that surround them with flower-beds and rich clumps
of shrubbery. The episcopal palace is a stately mansion of stone, built
somewhat in the Italian style, and bearing on its front the figures of
1687, as the date of its erection. A large edifice of brick, which, if I
remember, stood next to the palace, I took to be the residence of the
second dignitary of the cathedral; and in that case it must have been the
youthful home of Addison, whose father was Dean of Lichfield. I tried to
fancy his figure on the delightful walk that extends in front of those
priestly abodes, from which and the interior lawns it is separated by an
open-work iron fence, lined with rich old shrubbery, and overarched by a
minster-aisle of venerable trees.

WINCHESTER [Footnote: From "Visits to Remarkable Places."]

BY WILLIAM HOWITT

On entering the cathedral enclosure on its north side from High Street,
you are at once struck with the venerable majesty and antique beauty of
the fine old pile before you, and with the sacred quietude of the
enclosure itself. In the heart of this tranquil city it has yet a deeper
tranquillity of its own. Its numerous tombs and headstones, scattered over
its greensward, and its lofty avenues of limetrees, seem to give you a
peaceful welcome to the Christian fame and resting-place of so many
generations. If you enter at the central passage, you tread at once on the
eastern foundations of the Conqueror's palace, and pass close to the spot
on which formerly rose the western towers of Alfred's Newan Mynstre, and
where lay his remains, after having been removed from the old mynstre,
till Hyde Abbey was built.

It is impossible to walk over this ground, now so peaceful, without
calling to mind what scenes of havoc and blood, of triumph and
ecclesiastical pomp, it has witnessed--the butchery of the persecution of
Dioclet