and I wondered at the soft glow everywhere,
until I realized that the big buildings--the Cathedral, the great houses
and the old city wall--were all made of rosy sandstone.

You can't imagine how a large town which has lived as long as Chester
has, and gone on growing, could have contrived to remain so satisfyingly
beautiful, or keep such an air of old-time completeness. But the secret
is, I suppose, that Chester is "canny" as well as "bonny," and, being
wise, she refused to throw away her precious antique garments for
glaring new ones. When she had to add houses, or even shops, wherever
possible she reproduced the charm and quaintness of the black and white
Tudor or Stuart buildings which are Chester's intimate treasures.

Of course, I've seen little of the place yet; but after I had been to
the post-office, I strolled about before coming back to the hotel,
partly to recover from my disappointment in not hearing from you, partly
because I was so bewitched with my first glimpse that I couldn't bear to
come indoors still a stranger to the town. Hovering in front of the
Cathedral (a curious building, black in its oldest parts, bright pink
where it has been renovated) I saw Sir Lionel and Mrs. Norton coming.
That was awkward, because I had said I wanted to "settle in" before
sight-seeing, but I explained vaguely that I'd changed my mind, and was
invited to go into the Cathedral with them. Perhaps it was because Emily
was with us that nothing seemed very wonderful in the interior--unless
the carved oak in the choir--but the cloisters are beautiful, and I
liked the chapter house.

After "doing" the Cathedral, Mrs. Norton was tired, so Sir Lionel and I
had a walk alone, an adventure Mrs. Senter would never have allowed if
she'd guessed I was out of my room. She is a dog in the manger about
walks. She hates them herself, but she won't let other people take them
without her if she can help it.

We dropped Emily at the hotel, and had a delicious ramble (speaking for
myself!) through the four extraordinary streets which stand for much in
Chester's peculiar fame. Wandering there, it was easy to believe what
the guide-books say: that nowhere in Great Britain does a town exist
which so preserves the ancient character of all its architecture. I
don't know if there are British relics; but the city wall and gates are
Roman, part of the castle, too; and since mediaeval days nothing seems to
have lost in picturesqueness. People come