begun. His
church, a large, massive building with a great, square-topped tower,
stands today much as it did when he used to occupy the pulpit, which is
the identical one from which he preached. A bas-relief in white marble
by the American sculptor, Story, commemorating the work of Wyclif, has
been placed in the church at a cost of more than ten thousand dollars,
and just outside a tall granite obelisk has been erected in his honor.
In cleaning the walls recently, it was discovered that under several
coats of paint there were some remarkable frescoes which, being slowly
uncovered, were found to represent scenes in the life of the great
preacher himself.

Leaving Lutterworth, we planned to reach Cambridge for the night. On the
way we passed through Northampton, a city of one hundred thousand and a
manufacturing place of importance. It is known in history as having been
the seat of Parliament in the earlier days. A detour of a few miles from
the main road leaving Northampton brought us to Olney, which for twenty
years was the home of William Cowper. His house is still standing and
has been turned into a museum of relics of the poet, such as rare
editions of his books and original manuscripts. The town is a quiet,
sleepy-looking place, situated among the Buckinghamshire hills. It is
still known as a literary center and a number of more or less noted
English authors live there at the present time.

[Illustration: JOHN WYCLIF'S CHURCH, LUTTERWORTH.]

Bedford, only a few miles farther on the Cambridge road, was one of the
best-appearing English towns of the size we had seen anywhere--with
handsome residences and fine business buildings. It is more on the plan
of American towns, for its buildings are not ranged along a single
street as is the rule in England. It is best known from its connection
with the immortal dreamer, John Bunyan, whose memory it now delights to
honor. Far different was it in his lifetime, for he was confined for
many years in Bedford Jail and it was during this imprisonment that he
wrote his "Pilgrim's Progress." At Elstow, a mile from Bedford, we saw
his cottage, a mean-looking little hut with only two rooms. The tenants
were glad to admit visitors as probable customers for postcards and
photographs. The bare monotony of the place was relieved not a little by
the flowers which crowded closely around it.

Cambridge is about twenty miles from Bedford, and we did not reach it
until after dark. It was Wee