Below us stretches away the CANAL, which, here usurping the place of the ancient _fosse_, skirts the entire city, within the Walls, from east to west. Bidding a friendly adieu to the Dean’s Field, that beautiful mead on our left, we approach by a slight incline the NORTH GATE of the city. Look now over the right-hand parapet upon the yawning gulf below, and reflect that, while yon arch was built by an architect of our own time, that course of stones beneath us—the dark ones between the ivy and the abutment—was laid by a Roman mason, when Rome herself was mistress of the world. Ascending two or three steps, we find ourselves on the top of the NORTH GATE, which here, with its neat elliptical arch, divides Upper from Lower North Gate Street. That new-looking red-brick building beneath us is the BLUE-COAT HOSPITAL, a charity school, under the same roof with the ancient Hospital of St. John,—of both which institutions more anon. Pass we on now still to the westward, until we come to a curious watch-tower, called MORGAN’S MOUNT, having a lower chamber on the level of the Walls, and an open platform above, accessible by a few winding steps. During the Siege of Chester, a battery was planted on the summit of this tower, and from its commanding position, surrounded by earthworks, successfully kept the besiegers at bay. Let us mount to the top, and survey the diversified prospect before us. See yonder Elizabethan building at the northwest extremity of the city, beautifully placed on a hill, and separated from us by those fine, dark, evergreen trees, through which you can see the bright sunshine, as it were, smiling approvingly upon it. It is the Diocesan TRAINING COLLEGE, a normal establishment, for preparing masters and teachers for the parochial schools of the diocese. Stretching away to our left is the Hundred of Wirrall, the foreground dotted here and there with a handsome mansion or substantial farm-house, among which those of Crabwall, Mollington, and Blacon, are most conspicuous. That house, so sweetly situate on the eminence to the left, embowered in trees, is Blacon Point, commanding extensive views of the city and North Wales. Still beneath us flows the Canal, which, however, empties itself, close at hand, by a series of descending locks, into the River Dee. That pile of buildings on the opposite bank of the Canal, is the central official establishment of the Shropshire Union Railway Company. The River Dee, the mountains of North Wales, and the ancient Walls, serve nobly to complete this glowing panorama of nature, and of art.