We now leave York as a city, and her especial celebrities, to speak of two things of great interest to all tourists, viz: the remains of the abbey, and the famed York Minster. The Abbey of St. Mary, now a mass of elegant ruins, is not far from the Minster. It was founded by William Rufus, who was slain in the New Forest, Aug. 2, 1100. The college connected with the abbey was founded by Henry VI., who is believed to have been killed in the Tower of London in May, 1471. The grounds are acres in extent, and are well kept as a choice park, with great neatness and care. We enter them through a gate, at the side of which is a lodge, where tickets are procured, and guide-books, containing engravings, and an account of the premises from their first use for the abbey and its collegiate purposes. Elegant lawns and undulatory lands are here; grand old trees, large and vigorous; finely graded avenues and paths; clumps of flowering shrubs, among them the best of rhododendrons, which on the day of our visit were in fine bloom; and to add to the beauty of the scenery, sheep, such as England, and perhaps only Yorkshire, can boast; Jersey and Alderney cows quietly grazing,--neither sheep nor cows noticing the visitors, the best possible specimens of mind-their-own business-individuals seen on our whole journey. These all combine to give a tranquillity and finish to the landscape, such as befit the place now in use for centuries,--glorious in age, and charming in its loveliness. The ruins are of the choicest and most enchanting kind, with high walls, columns, arches, mouldings, buttresses, and every detail in full, of window and door; and such a carpet of nice low-cropped but thick grass as is seldom seen. What finish everywhere! How little to touch in the way of repair or amendment! Here, as on all ruins, is the companion-like ivy, doing its good work. These ruins seem to be at home. The others we have seen appeared to have a solitary beauty; but here, so in the city, and surrounded by every-day life, finish, care, and animation, they are not companionless. There is a sweet and indescribably good influence about a place like this. How one enjoys the odor of these flowers, the shade of these venerable trees, and of the walls themselves. How easy it is to commune in the extemporized reverie,--and it's no hard task here to extemporize one; how easy it is to "call up spirits from the vasty deep."