The two finest churches in Lincoln were at one time St. Swithun’s and St. Botolph’s. The former was burnt down, but, after a century, was rebuilt badly, but has now been restored by the munificence of Messrs. Clayton and Shuttleworth to its former grandeur, and has a really fine tower and spire, designed by Fowler, of Louth. St. Botolph’s, near the south “Bargate,” had to endure a similar period of decay, but was at last resuscitated, the south aisle being the last gift to the town of Bishop Christopher Wordsworth. Lincoln’s last new building, the Carnegie Library, designed by Mr. Reginald Blomfield, stands in St. Swithun’s Square. It was opened on February 24th, 1914. [Illustration: _Old Inland Revenue Office, Lincoln._] Two other houses are interesting because of their inmates in the eighteenth century; one the old Jacobean mansion of the Bromheads of Thurlby, whose descendant, Captain Gonville Bromhead, won with Lieutenant Chard undying fame by the defence of Rorke’s Drift in the Zulu War, 1879. The other is a house called Deloraine House, in which once lived George Tennyson, grandfather of the poet; and we cannot quit Lincoln without going to see the fine bronze statue of the poet by G. F. Watts, which stands in the close at the east end of the cathedral. [Sidenote: THE TENNYSON STATUE] [Sidenote: THE POET’S WOLFHOUND] In the autumn of 1909 the centenary of the poet’s birth was celebrated at Lincoln. Dean Wickham preached an eloquent sermon to a large congregation in the cathedral nave, after which, the choir, leaving the cathedral, grouped themselves round the statue and sang “Crossing the Bar,” and Bishop King gave a short and memorable address. In the evening the writer read a paper on Tennyson to an intently listening audience of twelve hundred people, which is now published by Routledge & Co., in a little book called “Introductions to the Poets, by W. F. Rawnsley.” Lincoln that day showed how fully she appreciated the great Lincolnshire poet. The statue, a colossal one, represents him looking at a flower, as described in his poem, “Flower in the crannied wall,” and his grand wolf-hound is looking up into his face. This hound was a Russian, whose grandfather had belonged to the Czar Alexander II., he who freed the serfs in 1861, and was so basely assassinated twenty years later. The wolf-hound was a very handsome light brindle, with a curious black patch near the collar. She had a litter of thirteen, and one of these with the mother, “Lufra,” was given to the writer when living at Park Hill, Lyndhurst, in the New Forest. The puppy, “Cossack,” was Mrs. Rawnsley’s constant companion till he died of old age in his sleep; the mother went to Farringford to replace an old favourite that Tennyson had lately lost. Her new owner changed her name to Karenina, and she was his constant companion to the end. Once again, if not twice, she had a litter of thirteen, and the cares of her large family not unnaturally were at