the Bishop and
clergy of Lincoln ought not to be fat men, but of very spiritual,
saint-like, almost angelic habit, if it be a frequent part of their
ecclesiastical duty to climb this hill; for it is a real penance, and was
probably performed as such, and groaned over accordingly, in monkish
times. Formerly, on the day of his installation, the Bishop used to ascend
the hill barefoot, and was doubtless cheered and invigorated by looking
upward to the grandeur that was to console him for the humility of his
approach. We, likewise, were beckoned onward by glimpses of the Cathedral
towers, and, finally, attaining an open square on the summit, we saw an
old Gothic gateway to the left hand, and another to the right. The latter
had apparently been a part of the exterior defences of the Cathedral, at a
time when the edifice was fortified. The west front rose behind. We passed
through one of the side-arches of the Gothic portal, and found ourselves
in the Cathedral Close, a wide, level space, where the great old Minster
has fair room to sit, looking down on the ancient structures that surround
it, all of which, in former days, were the habitations of its dignitaries
and officers. Some of them are still occupied as such, though others are
in too neglected and dilapidated a state to seem worthy of so splendid an
establishment. Unless it be Salisbury Close, however, (which is
incomparably rich as regards the old residences that belong to it,) I
remember no more comfortably picturesque precincts round any other
cathedral. But, in, truth, almost every cathedral close, in turn, has
seemed to me the loveliest, coziest, safest, least wind-shaken, most
decorous, and most enjoyable shelter that ever the thrift and selfishness
of mortal man contrived for himself. How delightful, to combine all this
with the service of the temple!

Lincoln Cathedral is built of a yellowish brown-stone, which appears
either to have been largely restored, or else does not assume the hoary,
crumbly surface that gives such a venerable aspect to most of the ancient
churches and castles in England. In many parts, the recent restorations
are quite evident; but other, and much the larger portions, can scarcely
have been touched for centuries: for there are still the gargoyles,
perfect, or with broken noses, as the case may be, but showing that
variety and fertility of grotesque extravagance which no modern imitation
can effect. There are innumerable niches, too, up