old that women whose virtue
was doubted were made to crawl, and if they stuck by the way were
adjudged guilty. This is the oldest part of the church, and is regarded
as the most perfect existing relic of the earliest age of Christianity
in Yorkshire. The cathedral contains some interesting monuments, one of
which demonstrates that epitaph-writing flourished in times agone at
Ripon. It commemorates, as "a faint emblem of his refined taste,"
William Weddell of Newby, "in whom every virtue that ennobles the human
mind was united with every elegance that adorns it."

[Illustration: STUDLEY ROYAL PARK.]

[Illustration: THE TRANSEPT, FOUNTAINS ABBEY.]

In the neighborhood of Ripon is the world-renowned Fountains Abbey, of
which the remains are in excellent preservation, and stand in a
beautiful situation on the verge of the fine estate of the Marquis of
Ripon, Studley Royal. The gates of this park are about two miles from
Ripon, the road winding among the trees, beneath which herds of deer are
browsing, and leading up to the mansion, in front of which is an
attractive scene. The little river Skell, on its way to the Ure, emerges
from a glen, and is banked up to form a lake, from which it tumbles over
a pretty cascade. The steep bank opposite is covered with trees. John
Aislabie, who had been chancellor of the exchequer, laid out this park
in 1720, and such repute did his ornamental works attain that Studley
was regarded as the most embellished spot in the North of England.
Ultimately, through heiresses, it passed into the hands of the present
owner. The pleasure-grounds were laid out in the Dutch style then in
vogue, and the slopes of the valley were terraced, planted with
evergreens, and adorned with statues. Modern landscape-gardening has
somewhat varied the details, but the original design remains. In the
gardens are the Octagon Tower, perched upon a commanding knoll, the
Temple of Piety, near the water-side, and an arbor known as Anne
Boleyn's Seat, which commands a superb view over Fountains Dale. Let us
enter this pretty glen, which gradually narrows, becomes more abrupt and
rocky, and as we go along the Skell leads us from the woods out upon a
level grassy meadow, at the end of which stand the gray ruins of the
famous Cistercian abbey. The buildings spread completely across the glen
to its craggy sides on either hand. On the right there is only room for
a road to pass between the transept and the limestone rock which