At the extreme end of the Cathedral once stood another chapel, dedicated to St. Mary the Great, of considerable note in early times—the offerings at the high altar amounting to immense sums—daily mass was said here for the founder’s soul in particular, his friends, relations, benefactors, &c. The chapel was about seventy feet long and thirty broad, and had a handsome entrance from the church; it has long since disappeared. The Jesus chapel on the opposite side is rather a melancholy looking place at present, one high tomb of some pretensions in the centre alone distinguishing it from a lumber room; near this chapel, in the north aisle, is the speculatory before alluded to, as the opening through which the sepulchre was watched at Easter; it has, until recently, been called the ancient “confessional,” a somewhat extraordinary position for such a priestly office to be exercised in, as were it so, the penitent must of necessity have stood in the aisle on tiptoe to reach the ear of his confessor in the choir, who must equally of necessity have lain upon the ground to receive the confession. And now we must pass on to the cloisters, where one almost involuntarily cries out for “the monks of old,” to come and give life to the walks among the tombs, no other earthly figure or garb, save a cowled monk, seeming to have place in such a scene. The long lines of beautiful windows, on the one side of pure early English tracery, on another of the decorated period, and another line still more elaborate in its turnings and twistings, while the last bespeaks the perpendicularism that prevails among so many of the windows of the church—each and all are beautiful. The splendidly carved doorway entering into the church, that has puzzled learned and simple alike to interpret truly, is a gem, and the perfectly preserved lavatories at the opposite corner have their own features of interest. The roof, groined and vaulted with sculptured bosses, is covered with fanciful and legendary carvings—the martyrdoms of saints, St. Anthony roasting on his gridiron, &c., St. John the Baptist and Herodias with his head in a charger; the mutilated body of another headless saint has received from some kind charitable hand the blessing of a new head, while the old one is under his arm; the date of this addition or growth is uncertain—it looks very white, rather new; above the door leading into the ancient refectory is a carving of the Temptation, Adam and Eve and the serpent as usual; about this said carving hangs a tale, another than the story of the Fall of man, and too good to be omitted. The great historian of this comity, and all the little historians that have condensed, contracted, extracted, and dove-tailed little bits of his history together, have all with wonderful precision agreed that above this arch was carved the _espousals_ or Sacrament of Marriage; and upon that foundation, or perhaps rather _under_ that head we should say, entered into elaborate details of how