Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1885-03-01


are over everything. Itwonld be only tn
fling exaggerstion to say that the ground is
shiny with them-big, black viscid and
slow. The ruin Is surrounded BY its old
moat, q msrshy brook b~lossoming with for
getme-nots and bristling with sedge,-an
unusual feature, as few castles in good
preservation retain their bitches. Near by,
in q grove Of giant elms that shed rain
drops tinking On tombs, is an old parish
church with pulpit in the middle, on one
side, instead of at the end. Another stretch
of road, more p and more foTery, is
traversed, AID John Burroughs may like to
know that here in the ditch is q bit Of straw
berry vins of blazing crimson, exctly like
an American strawberry plant touched with
autumn frost. Here is dull and quiet
Spilsby with SIR John Franklin's statue in
the market place-he was a native of the
town-and faint organ music sounding
through the whispering rain from yonder
church. commit the folly of going into a
temperance restaurant for q Welsh rsre-bit,
the kitchen fires being out in the other din
ing rooms at Spilsby, and after a long dis.
cussion between maid and mistress my
order is filed (2) by a platter Of hard,
cold cheese, bread, hairy butter and tea.
All, well, it isn't everybody in England who
fares as comfortably, so the cheese is eaten,
the servant has her fee, and here's for
Boston.
The Salvation Army is in the market
place, still Uttered with booths and wreck,
age of a semi-weekly fair, and is singing
and drumming to the best of Its vocal and
muscular ability. Across the way a min
strel show is advertised, "Under patronage
of His Worshipful the Mayor" Two gentle
men Of real color compose the minstrel
show, and one stands at the door with shiny
hat on head and yellow gloves on hands
watching the Salvation soldiers, apparently
for points. It's a quiet old town, is Boston,
apart from the Salvationists, aud the few
old salts that roam around its continuous
wharf look as lazy as the river that
floats their round.bottomed, grimy
sloops and schooners. A kind
Of exclusiveness pertains to the best
streets, too, and amusingly rec ais the sedate
superiority that marks our Boston; hub Of
the universe. St. Botolph's Church-for
Boston is the careless British way Of pro.
%nouncing St. Botolph's Towns the
presiding architectural genius of the place,
and its big tower scars high above long
roots and narrow streets. 1t enjoys the dis.
~tinction of being the largest parish church
in England, and the height Of its tower, POI
feet, is exactly the length of the church.
Now through fens where twilight reflections
simmer in unsupported pools, where
moated oranges send columns of violet
smoke into the sky and throw cherry lamp
rays into the chill night, where islands Of
rushes and tough and tangled weeds seem
floating on silent water, and so to Peterbo.
rough, whose cathedral arches would have
been worthy portals for the triumph Of a
Hadrian.
1t argues favorably for the assertion that
a pleasant and instructive English trip may
be made for a few dollars, that tirst-class
hotels are just as bad as cheap ones-or.
if this shocks you, the cheap are as good as
the dear ones. In Peterborolg Oh | put up at
one of the leading hotels, The Angel, as the
others are full or closed and | pay the high
est price for the worst room | find in Eng.
land. In most so.called frst-class hotels in
Britain you crawl off to bed with O candle,
you have to order your breakfast over night,
you find leas on the premises, you are sup
posed to fee every servant in the place, there
is no public room or parlo; for guests to sit
in except in a stuffy little snoking.room be-
hind the bar, there is about the whole place
a depressing slowness and behind ~the-aged.
ness.
The Angel gives me a w,etched little box of
a room with a billy floor and poor ventila.
ton, its servants are aya-ictous, the candle
| am charged twelve cents for is only a
butt, and the bill is Unfair. You are some
times obliged to put up at trst-class hotels
because keepers ofthe pretty little inns use
their own judgement about letting you have
a nights lodging. If you look like a for
eigner, if you are oddly or ~coarsely dressed
if you can be construed Into q suspicious
character, you are calmly sized up' and
told that the place is full. escape the EN-.
braces of The Angel at an early hour and
visit the cathedral, finding that it is filled
with a wreck of scatfolds, stone plaster and
tin. that %roofers, masous, carpenters, tres-
coers and laborers are humping about the
edifce in their heavy-foot2d English way
and are talking loud and driving nails,
The immensely of the interior can
hardly be estimated, because an
ugly wooden partition shuts
the view Off midway. Nevertheless service
is held, twenty bishops, canons and choris,
ters read and sing, and eight people form
an audience. l tip:oe about in shadow Of
the Norman columns trying the effect of the
music from various points, and slip out
quietly to take train for Ely.
Ely, where, as one Of the Oldest English
songs records, the monks sang "merrily" as
King Canute rowed by among the fens,
posses one Of the grandest old cathedrals
in Europe. 1t is the longest in the world
except one, its length being 537 feet, and
lis decorations are superb. Delicate cary.
ing is to be found in the stalls of oak and
| tombs of marble, exquisite brass and iron
work is seen in the gates, and the central
,ctagon, the only Gothic dome 10 existence,
O so beautiful that one marvels at the fac
Lat such domes were not wrought into
VERY Gothic edifce in Europe. Paintings
I saints and angels cover the oaken roof
rich colors glow in the windows, and
architects of cd wrought strongly,