The main street of Durham in many places is barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass. It winds and twists through the town in such a way that one seems to be almost moving in a circle at times and constant inquiry is necessary to keep from being lost on the main street of a city of fifteen or twenty thousand. The town is almost as much of a jumble as if its red, tile-roof buildings had been promiscuously thrown to their places from Cathedral Hill. Durham is strictly an ecclesiastical center. There is little except the cathedral, which, in addition to being one of the most imposing, occupies perhaps the finest site of any of the great English churches. Together with Durham Castle, it monopolizes the summit of a hill which at its base is three-quarters surrounded by the river. The greater part of the cathedral dates back seven or eight hundred years, but additions have been made from time to time so that nearly all styles of architecture are represented. Tradition has it that it was founded by St. Cuthbert, whose chief characteristic is declared to have been his antipathy toward women of all degrees. A curious relic of this peculiarity of the saint remains in a granite cross set in the center of the floor of the nave, beyond which, in the earlier days, no woman was ever allowed to pass. The interior of the church is mainly in the massive and imposing Norman style. The carved stone screen is one of the most elaborate and perfect in Britain, and dates back from the Thirteenth Century. The verger told us of the extreme care which must be taken to preserve this relic. He said that the stone of the screen is rather soft and brittle, and that in cleaning it was never touched, the dust being blown away with bellows. Durham, in common with most of the cathedrals, suffered severely at the hands of the Parliamentarians under Cromwell. It was used as a prison for a part of the Scotch army captured at the battle of Dunbar, and as these Presbyterians had almost as much contempt for images as the Cromwellians themselves, many of the beautiful monuments in the cathedral were broken up. Durham, like Canterbury, is a town that is much favored by the artists, and deservedly so. The old buildings lining the winding river and canal form in many places delightful vistas in soft colors almost as picturesque as bits of Venice itself. The hotels, however, are far from first-class, and one would probably be more comfortable at Newcastle. Speaking of hotels, we did not at any time engage accommodations in advance, and Durham was the only town where we found the principal hotel with all rooms taken. With the rapid increase of motoring, however, it will probably become necessary to telegraph for accommodations at the best hotels. And telegraphing is an exceedingly easy thing in England. A message can be sent from any postoffice at a cost of sixpence for the first ten words. XII IN OLD YORKSHIRE