Smoke and blackness being allowed to have its own happy-go-lucky way, we find, even on the very outskirts of the manufacturing district, that the towns are not exactly the places we should choose in selecting an objective for a vacation. Thus, Selby, although surrounded by pleasant unspoiled country, seems infected by the smoky towns a few miles to the west, and has black roads and the unsatisfactory suggestion of poverty everywhere. The great abbey church shows its long roof-line over dull houses, and does its best to make up for the deficiencies of the town. In this it is not very successful, having only a low central tower, and the severe character of the Norman and Early English work of the western half deprives the building of any outline which would relieve the monotonous appearance of the town. Even the Ouse adds no charm to Selby, for its sluggish waters flow between muddy banks without a trace of the picturesque. There is only one place where we can forget the sense of disappointment Selby gives, and that is inside the abbey church, where now, alas! the transepts and choir are still in the hands of masons and carpenters, who are renewing the stone and wood destroyed in the recent fire. Buildings of this character seem almost as though they could not be burnt, and probably if the choir roof had been vaulted with stone, as appears to have been originally intended, the fire would have been confined to the north transept and the chapel adjoining, where the newly constructed organ was being completed. It was before midnight on October 19, 1906, that the flames were first seen bursting from the Latham Chapel, where the organ was placed. The Selby fire brigade with their small engine were confronted with a task entirely beyond their powers, and though the men worked heroically, they were quite unable to prevent the fire from spreading to the roofs of the chancel and nave, and consuming all that was inflammable within the tower. By about three in the morning fire-engines from Leeds and York had arrived, and with a copious supply of water from the river, it was hoped that the double roof of the nave might have been saved, but the fire had obtained too fierce a hold, and by 4.30 a correspondent telegraphed: ‘The flames are through the west-end roof. The whole building will now be destroyed from end to end. The flames are pouring out of the roof, and the lead of the roof is running down in molten streams. The scene is magnificent but pathetic, and the whole of the noble building is now doomed. The whole of the inside is a fiery furnace. The seating is in flames, and the firemen are in considerable danger if they stay any longer, as the false roof is now burned through. ‘The false roof is falling in, and the flames are ascending 30 feet above the building. Dense clouds of smoke are pouring out.’