The church antiquities of this place are capable of a large history, if pursued thoroughly by a judicious hand: it would give one a good idea of the ancient manner and magnificence of our great abbeys: there are no where such remains of that kind left among us. The revenues hereof are very great; which enables them to keep every thing in good repair, and to live very splendidly: indeed the whole city is supported only by the church. The cathedral is a very large and majestic pile, of the Saxon manner of building intirely, and all of a piece, except the east end transept and middle tower, and some later windows of mullion-work put into the old frames. I call that the Saxon manner which was in use among us at the time of the Conquest; being somewhat Roman degenerate, with semicircular windows, and arches, and great round pillars; the walls very thick, without buttresses: these, I suppose, together with pointed arches, slender pillars, and the like, which we call the Gothic, came from France. Very few monuments are left here: one of a bishop, under the bishop’s throne: in the choir the largest one, of a bishop, I ever saw; it is upon the ground, composed of two huge flat stones: the brass of it, which was proportional, is pulled off. Here are many of the ancient original copes, very richly embroidered, in which they officiate at the sacrament service; a custom here only preserved. The screen at the high altar is of stone, with pinacle work, somewhat like that at St. Alban’s; with many niches for images: behind is the stone under which lies the body of St. Cuthbert, and upon which stood his shrine. The eastern wall of the church is one intire transept, as long as the cross transept (I think,) and called the Nine Altars, from so many there placed. Much painted glass of saints, &c. Two images, among others left, are those of St. Cuthbert, and venerable Bede. The dome under the middle tower is very high, with a handsome balustrade of ancient manner within side. At the west end, built upon a high wall from the edge of the river, is a place called the Galilee, consisting of five ailes supported with handsome pillars: the use of it, and the meaning of the name, I know not; but the middlemost seems to have been an oratory, to pray for the soul of the founder of it, whose tomb stands at the east end: his arms are, _Palé_ of ten, a mullet for difference. Near it, under a plain black tomb, lies the great Bede, the light of learning in darkest times; the first and the last among the monks. The cloisters are large and handsome; so is the chapter-house. The dean’s lodging is that of the prior’s; for the most part preserved in its primitive state; the hall, the parlour, large and stately; the prior’s lodging-room well cieled, and roofed with Irish oak, which Mr. Gale conjectures as old as Richard the Second’s time, by the chained white-harts carved therein: the prior’s kitchen is intire; a curious piece of geometry in stone, and vies with