There was still time to see the cathedral before the doors would be closed for the night, and thither I took my way. You know the great church too well for me to dwell upon it. It is not one of the greatest of the English cathedrals; it lacks the majesty of the great fortress at Durham; it has not the intricate--I had almost said self-conscious--beauty of Lincoln; it is not so vast as Ely, which, as I once heard you say, "rises out of the Fens as if typifying the conquest of heathendom by the Cross"; nor is it so rich in architectural treasures as Gloucester--but how impressive is its simple dignity! Here, I think, one feels less than in the others that it was intended for another service--that is for the worship of another God! Here is enshrined the block-like solidity of the English character. When, next morning, I listened to the familiar words, "Our fathers have told us what thou hast done, in their time of old," I felt that the setting was perfect for that liturgy which has been the most successful in building a bridge by which the souls of men might pass from a Ptolemaic to a Darwinian universe. The car "pulled" well, and there were no exciting incidents to report for the next two days. The road runs through Grantham and then through Newark, where the beautiful spire of the parish church rises from the market-place. Here, too, a fine bridge crosses the Trent. But I looked in vain for the "monstrous cantle" which Hotspur complained the river "cranking in" had cut out! Perhaps it was not here but at some other part of the river, or perhaps _it was not true at all_, and Hotspur was only trying to get a "rise" out of Glendower! It is no matter. It only came to my mind as I saw the Trent for the first time. Donchester comes next, but as I did not pass by the race-course, I can give you no tips! After this the road enters the rolling Yorkshire hills, where, if the surface were not so good, changes of gear would be frequent, so sharp are the rises of the short hills. In the early afternoon the towers of Fountain's Abbey rose above the tree-tops, but I did not stop, for I was more than ready for tea, and, moreover, I hasted to reach the "Beeches," where I knew a cordial English welcome, mixed with a dash of American "gush," awaited me. IX AN ENGLISH INTERIOR John said this morning that he was so busy I must write. He added that as all his letters had been "outsides," mine must be an "inside"!