Morning journal and courier., 1892-06-11

ment, one or the five places appointed
 for tournsying by Richard 1. And bu,
 nine miles from Salisbury, and seven north of old Sarum, will be found Stone.
 henge, the most remarkable monument of | antiquity in all the British isles.
 But it seems to me that of aIl else ths kindliest glamor and charm investing old Salisbury and neighborhood have been
 laid upon them by the gentle pen of Dick ems. In my loiterings in lane and high. way, by riverside and in feld-paths, how those folk of Martin Chuzzlewit" troor
 back into their old accustomed places. Ir
 this village or in that you place the Peck.
 sniff home, and are sure that from that
 dormer window the unctious old hypo.
 crite's "pupils" in architecture, in compa.
 ny with tender r-hearted Tom Pinch, traced
 the elevations of the far cathedral roof
 and spire.
 This little wsyside inn with its snowy
 curtains and vine-msssed sides must be
 the veritable Blue Dragon presided over
 by buxom Mrs. Lupin, where old Martin Chuzzlewit came, cursed with gold and haunted by his vulture relatives, and
 where the dirty and jsunty Montague Tiee and his companion, the ''strangs instance of the little frailties that beeet . mighty mind," Chevy Slyme, Esq, entered upon their memorable but bootless negotiations for @ loan from Mir. Pecksniff. The little alehouse across the way must also be the Half Moon and Seven Stars where all "the private lodgings in the place, amounting to full four beds and 8 sofa, rose cent. per cent. in the market" as the vulturs rels- lives gathered.
 Here, where the quiet country road, no more than 6 snowy hawthorn lane, stops short at the great highway and of old the stages dashed onward to mighty London town, is certainly the very spot where poor Tom Pinch, with heavy heart, saw the stage, like some 'igreat monster, !" bear away his friend, honest John Westlock, "more exultant and rampant than usual, n that dreary night of parting.
 This bright highway athwart the ridge, bordered with chestnut, elm or beach, with here and there e sunny opening ahow- ing the clustered thstches and roses of q farmhouse. undoubtedly was the very one over which Pinch came in his hooded gig; where the redoubtable Mark Tspely first disclosed his contempt for those vacations not sad and marrying enough to render c jolly spirit creditably; where the faces of fair iassies beamed upon Tom, and even roguish fingers tossed him kisses, for, dear soul, there could be no harm in him, and over which he at last reached Salisbury and its snug old tavern in which s'at half past six" he so happily meets young Mar tin, and the event is celebrated in . glass of punch each, as hot as it could be made.
 This delightful associative nearness to those whom Dickens has created for your ceaseless friendship clings to you in the fine old city as we'll. If you are here of e market day, as this one is, and as it was on the occasion of Tom Pinch's visit, the picture Dickens drew for Tom is the one you will still find, and with as mellow a setting as there is in all England. You will see "the young farmers and old far mers, with smock frocks, brown great coats, drab greatcoats, red worsted com torters, leather leggings, wonderful shaped hats, hunting whips and rough stick. n just the same ss Tom Pinch did.
 Somehow the quaint shops, jewellers shops, bookshops, toyshops, children's bookshops, chemists shops and all, quaint CT but less wonderful to you, are still seen through Toms kindly eyes. And when you tire of all this and come to that sweet cathedral close, you love aE the ancient and sacred place better because Tom Pinch's friend was once associate orpanisr here, and let Tom help with the stops, and when the afternoon service was over left Pinch alone in the organ loft While he played and the tones resounded through the cathedral ''great thoughts and hopes came crowding on his mind,D which ''seemed to find an echo in the depth of every ancient tomb, no less than in the deep mystery of his own heart.n
 And so it will be with you, for 1t Is not so much that the spire of this grand ca- thedral is the tallest in all England, that many of it's tombs and monuments are the grandest and most ancient, or that its close is incomparable in its loveIinees tranquility and beauty, as that all these charms of association stir your mind and heart. Not So wonderful is what you will g. e at Salisbury, though that is wonderful indeed, as what you will feel
 So much of this tender enthusiasm pos- sesses you that you can never tell another critically about Salisbury cathedral. No need for that. All the host of those who bring their pocket rules and dissert in technique about plinths and mullions, and ogees and superincumbents, and strings and flying buttresses, and srcadines and cuspings, and fligrees and spsudriis, and diaper enrichments, have been here before you. measured and sketched and noeed about and gone, a half c thousand years ago. But you see 6 glorious aspiration wrought out in stone. Whatever your re- ligion, you realize that sublimest human effort sustained by sublimest faith and zeal have fashioned from earthly clements something indescribably grand and beau titul, to stand as place for prayer aud type of endless upreachings of human hearts to the mystery or the infinite
 In that and with what you dream and worship. Long and lovingly, too, you loiter and dream in the old cathedral close. As no picture ever graven or painted re- veals just impressions of any great csthe- dral exterior or interior, so no words can convey the subtle charm of the close of Salisbury cathedral. There are tones and tints in ''The Deserted Village and the .Eiegy" that hint, but they only hint, of what is here. EDGAR L. WAKKMAs