It appears that the public were accustomed to make the Cathedral a thoroughfare, and therefore it was thought desirable (about 1630) to open this slype passage and to put up this notice. But as those who tramped through the sacred edifice on business were unlettered porters and labourers, this enigmatical Latin caution could have been of little use. We, however, obeyed the direction, and as we passed, found some more dislocated verses on the opposite wall giving a similar injunction in a rhyme between the words _choro_ and _foro_. “Look at the valerian and harebells on the Cathedral wall,” said Miss Hertford. “How prettily they mark out the architectural lines in blue and red.” After reaching the south entrance we made for the adjacent transept, and found at the end of it an old fourteenth-century door and a flight of oaken stairs leading to the Library. As I was mounting up I remembered how on my last visit I was conducted by a tall, handsome man, the principal verger and, I think, also librarian. He was remarkably courteous and well informed. On inquiring for him now I heard that he was no more! He had light curly hair, and I should have thought him a young man had he not told me that he had been sworn in as a special constable with Louis Napoleon at the time of the Chartist alarms. Lately I saw an extract from _The Echo_, in which the writer remarked that the vergers he had met performed their duties in a perfunctory way, “mere gabblers,” except one at Winchester Cathedral. My thoughts immediately turned to this man, but I must say that the other vergers here seem fully to appreciate the beauties and antiquities of the place. [Sidenote: Cathedral Library.] This “library” was built after Bishop Morley’s death as a receptacle for his bequeathed books. It might be called a treasury or museum. Here are two Anglo-Saxon Charters (854, 957). They begin in Latin, but the writer seems to have become tired, and to have lapsed into his native Anglo-Saxon towards the end. One is attested by Alfred when a boy. How interesting they would have been if they contained autographs, but it was the custom then for the scribe to insert the names with crosses against them, as we should now for illiterate persons. There is a poetical complexion about these documents much in keeping with Anglo-Saxon taste. The first one, after stating that “Christ reigns for ever,” says that “It is plain to all mortals that all things that are seen have an end, and those not seen are eternal. Therefore I Adulf through the clemency of the High Throned King of....”[88] The other commences: “Now by vicissitudes doth the fragility of human life wither, and the circling roll of ages come to nought.” The Saxons had imagination, they mingled poetry with piety; thus we read here, “In the name of Him who in the book of everlasting life in heaven has written down those with whom in life He is well pleased. I Athulf,” &c. [Sidenote: Rare Manuscripts.]