, but a little time bestowed
upon the history of the places you pass in a holiday trip will very
greatly assist you in gaining a good knowledge of the past.

Look at Peterborough. Here lies Queen Katherine, and here lay Mary,
Queen of Scots, for a while, till James buried her in Westminster; and
Scarlett, the sexton, who buried both queens, lies in the nave. But we
cannot pause at Peterborough, though we should like to do so, for our
iron steed is steaming along, and our driver is thinking of the ice and
snow which he had to contend against. The Midland line runs overhead
near here, and after a rapid run we pull up at Grantham.

[Illustration: "HIS FIRST SKETCH." (_See p. 204._)]

During our stay we hear a little tale from our "fireman," who remembers
on one of his trips an engine getting loose in front of the up express,
and how he and another man got on a fresh engine, and ran after it on
the other line. Oh, what a chase they had after the runaway! and at last
they caught it in time to prevent a serious accident. It was a brave,
but rash act, to set off after a "mad" engine, which had run away, no
one knew how, out of the siding on to the main line.

From Grantham to Doncaster the railway opens up so many memories. We
pass Newark, near which the ruins of the old castle may be seen. King
John died here; Cardinal Wolsey lodged here, and James I. also stayed
within its walls; the whole place teems with memories of Charles and his
Parliamentary foes. We pass on near Sherwood Forest, where Robin Hood
and his merry men lived, and fought, and stole the king's deer; and then
past Doncaster, where the engines and carriages of the Great Northern
Railway, which ends near here, are made and repaired.

Doncaster was a very important place in olden times, and a whole volume
of adventures might be written concerning the personages who visited it.

While we are talking, the "Flying Scotchman," the quickest of all the
Scotch trains, goes tearing along to York. We have heard of Dick
Turpin's celebrated ride to York on his bonnie "Black Bess," but we have
a finer horse--a green-painted steed--to ride on. In the "good old
times" which we read about so much it took four days to get to York,
sleeping on the road; now our trains run the distance in less than four
hours! Coaching is very pleasant as an amusement, but for business we
must have our Iron Horse.

We can lunch at York. Our train waits for no one, but if we like we can
eat