New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1891-10-04

heaven II is the little preacher in his Ridiculous
vestments, 10 is man with his vanity and folly.
that huInilates the reverent pilgrim in such holy
places as this, by his insisent contrast OF his own
conventional ttlencss with all that is celestial In
the grandest architectural results Of the nspra-
ton of genius in the human mind. Alas, and
again Alas When | remember what glorious
places have been almost ruined for me by nvcterate
human gabble know not whether the sentiment
that predominates is resentment or despair But
for every true worshipper the moment Of solitude
comes and with IL comes the benedicion of beauty.
During some part of last night i stood at my win
dow in the Lamb, and looked at the great cathe-
dral silent and sombre, under the cold light OF the
stars. The wind was blowing, fresh AMI strong.
The streets were deserted. The lights had been
put out and the people had gone to rest. But IL
did not seem that the ancient church Is dead
thing. or that slumbcr ever comes to ii, or weak
ness, or forgetfulness, OF repose. IL Keeps an
eternal vigil watehfu over the earth, and silently
communing with heaven, and as | gazed upward
nj its fretted battlements could almost sec the
wings OF angels waving in the midnight air.
1t is early morning now. and across lovely
blue sky float thin clouds Of snowy fleece whiie
many rocks soar above the lofty towers OF Ely.
darting into crevices In the gray crown, or tting
upon its parapets. with many hoarse and queru-
lous croak The little town has not yet awakened.
Nothing seems stirring except a few dead leaves
flor 10 Is already autumn), TINT the wind has blown
down over night and that are now wildly
whirled along the white, hard, ceanly streets
The level on which this ancient settlement rrss IS
so even and SO extensive that from almost any
elevation you can see the tree-line on che distant
horizon. Some of the houses have doors and
shutters Of yellow oak The narrow causeways
are paved with smooth gray-stone or slate Not
many lattices or gables are apparent, snch as one
sees so often in Ranterbury and Winchester, nor
is there in all Ely such romantic street as the
exquisite "Vicars Close at Wells; but bits Of old
monastlo architecture are numerous,-arched gate
ways frctted BY time, shields Of stone, carved
entablatures, and broken gargoyies, -curousy
commingled with The cottage ornamentation Of
more modern day. On the long village-green In
front of the cathedral stands handsome piece Of
artillery that was captured at Sebastopol-peacc-
full enough now before the temple of the Prince
of Peace little way off rises the spire Of
ST. Mary's. a gray relic Of the thirteenth century
remarkable for its door-arches OF blended Norman
and early English styles. Close at hand is the
venerable Tudor Palace, which for more than
four centuries has been inhabited by the Bishops Of
Ely. and upon some part Of which may have rested
the gaze of that astute statesman, Morton, who
4" fed to Richmond" and whose detection wrought
the political ruin Of Richard the Third. Every
way you turn and everywhere you ramble
there is something TO inspire historic memories or
awaken impressive thought Just as Glastonbury,
upon the golden plain OF Somerset was once the
Isle of Avalon, so this place, lonely among the
fens of Eastern Anglia, was once the Isle Of Ely.
It is more than twelve hundred years sinc- the
resolute devotion Of q chaste and noble woman
made this sacred spot; and II stored Ely taught
no other lesson, and gave no other comfort, it
would at least, as the commemorative monument
to the Saxon Princess Etheryth, admonsh us
that life is capable of higher things than mortal
love, and that the most celestial of women is the
woman who Is sufficient unto herself W. W.