common eyes; its mellow Queen Anne and Georgian
houses which group round in a pleasant, self-satisfied way, as if they
alone were worthy of standing-room in that sacred precinct.

To me, there's no cathedral in England that means as much of the past as
Winchester. You know how, in the nave, you see so plainly the transition
from one architectural period to another? And then, there are those
splendid Mortuary Chests. Think of old Kynegils, and the other Saxon
kings lying inside, little heaps of haunted dust.

I was silly enough to be immensely pleased that the child picked out
those Mortuary Chests in their high resting place, and the gorgeous
alleged tomb of William Rufus, as the most unforgettable among the
smaller interests of Winchester Cathedral, for they are the same with
me; and it's human to like our tastes shared by (a few) others. She was
so enchanted to hear how William the Red was brought by a carter to be
buried in Winchester, and about the great turquoise and the broken shaft
of wood found in the tomb, that I hadn't the heart to tell her it
probably wasn't his burial place, but that of Henri de Blois.

Of course she liked Bloody Mary's faldstool--the one Mary sat in for her
marriage with Philip of Spain; and the MSS. signed by AElfred the Great
as a child, with his father.

Women are caught by the personal element, I think, more than we are. And
so interested was she in Jane Austen's memorial tablet, that she
wouldn't be satisfied without going to see the house where Jane died.
There were so many other things to see, that Emily and Mrs. Senter would
have left that out, but I wanted the girl to have her way.

Poor little, sweet-hearted Jane! She was only forty-one when she
finished with this world--a year older than I. But doubtless that was
almost old for a woman of her day, when girls married at sixteen, and
took to middle-aged caps at twenty-five. Now, I notice, half the mothers
look younger than their daughters--younger than any daughter would dare
to look after she was "out."

A good many interesting persons seem to have died in Winchester, if they
weren't clever enough to be born in the town. Earl Godwin set an early
example in that respect. Died, eating with Edward the Confessor--probably
too much, as his death was caused by apoplexy, and might not have happened
if Edward hadn't been too polite to advise him not to stuff.

Of course, the cathedral is the great jewel; but for me the old city is