nging from
billiard rooms to foundries, from brewing yards to bedstead
warehouses in the same region. That brightest of all our historical
blades, "P. Whittle, F.A.S.," states that it is located on the
south-west side of Friargate--a better, but still very mystical,
exposition to all not actually acquainted with the place; whilst
Hardwicke comes up to the rescue in the panoply of modern exactness,
and tells us that it is on the south side of Fishergate. These
historians must have missed their way in trying to find the place,
and in their despair guessed at its real situation. There are many
ways to St. George's--you can get to it from Fishergate, Lune-
street, Friargate, or the Market place; but if each of those ways
was thrown into one complete whole, the road would still be
fifteenth rate. Tortuousness and dimness mark them, and a strong
backyard spirit of adventure must operate largely in the minds of
some who manage to reach the building.

The churchyard of St. George's has nothing interesting to the common
mind about it. The great bulk of the grave stones are put flat upon
the ground--arranged so that people can walk over them with ease and
comfort, whatever may become of the letters; and if it were not for
a few saplings which shoot out their bright foliage periodically,
and one very ancient little tree which has become quite tired of
that business, the yard would look very grave and monotonous. The
principal entrance can be reached by way of Lune-street or Chapel-
walks; but when you have got to it, there is nothing very peculiar
to be seen. It is plain, rather gloomy, and in no way interesting.

The interior of the church wears a somewhat similar complexion; but
it improves by observation, and in the end you like it for its
thorough simplicity. No place of worship can in its internal
arrangements be much plainer than St. George's. If it were not for
three stained windows in the chancel, which you can but faintly make
out at a distance, nothing which could by any possibility be termed
ornamental would at first sight strike you. On reaching the centre
of the place you get a moderately clear view of the pulpit which
somewhat edifies the mind; and, on turning right round, you see a
magnificent organ which compensates for multitudes of defects, and
below it--in front of the orchestra--a rather powerful
representation of the royal arms, a massive lion and unicorn,
"fighting for the crown" as usual, and got up in po