NOTES OF A VISIT TO THE NORTII.

"The moors-all hail! Ye changeless, ye sublime,
That seldom hear a voice, save that of heaven!
Scorners of chance, and fate, and death and time,
But not of Him whose viewless hand hath riven
The chasm through which the mountain stream is driven.
How like a prostrate giant-not in sleep,

But list'ning to his beating heart-ye lie!

With winds and clouds dread harmony ye keep;

Ye seem alone beneath the boundless sky;

Ye speak, are mute, and there is no reply!

Here all is sapphire light, and gloomy land,
Blue, brilliant sky, above a sable sea
Of hills like chaos, ere the first command,
Let there be light!' bade light and beauty be."

EBENEZER ELLIOTT.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER, 7TH.

HAVING made an arrangement to preach anniversary sermons in the North of England, I took the early train this morning from Great Driffield to Malton, on my way for Westgate, situate in the wild and romantic district of Weardale, in the county of Durham. It was a

lovely, breezy, autumnal morning, "so pure, so calm, so bright;" such as the quaint but eloquent Herbert would call "the bridal of earth and sky." The heavens were dyed in the purest azure-the floating clouds were fringed with gold-nature was arrayed in her gayest robes;

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and, as we flew along the iron track, on the mighty wings of steam, woodland and stream, coppice and plain, dingle and dell, presented to the admiring eye a picture of sylvan sweetness. Sweeping across a richly cultivated country, and dashing through the deep "cuttings," we at length plunged into the darkness of "Burdale Tunnel." In the erection of this subterraneous arch, much time, toil, and wealth were expended, the chalk was cut through completely, and the subjacent clay penetrated. The clay, rendered slippery by the water from the chalk above, occasioned much annoyance to the civil engineer and the workmen-the woodwork being frequently broken, and the arching disordered. Emerging from the gloomy passage, we swept along the narrow valley in the "Kimmeridge Clay," by the station for Warram, cut through the "Oolitic rock," opposite Settrington, entered the broad and beautiful vale of Pickering, at its south western extremity, and drew up safely at the station for Malton. Having to wait some time at Malton for the next train to Darlington, I took advantage of the opportunity thus afforded me to see whatever the town possessed of architectural or historic interest. It is a well-built, though not over-clean, market town, standing on a gentle eminence, pleasantly situated on the western banks of the river Derwent. The river is spanned by a beautiful bridge of stone, with three graceful arches, connecting the town with the village of Norton, on the opposite banks. The town itself, containing now perhaps not more than seven or eight thousand inhabitants,

was once an important Roman station, as is sufficiently attested by the numerous relics of imperial times, such as rude and curious urns, coins, baths, graves, inscriptions, &c. Some of the discovered urns have contained fragments of burnt bones, elegant glass phials, glass beads, arrowheads of flint, and bronze toois, such as Celtic chisels, gouges, &c.

The country all around Malton, we are told, has in early times, been the most densely populated part of Yorkshire, and continued so until a comparatively recent period. Founded, as most of the Roman stations were, in proximity to older British towns, we see here a double town-Old and New Malton on one side of the river, and Norton on the other.

Entering the town, and wandering along its contracted streets, St. Michael's Church will at length attract the attention of the ecclesiologist. This is a large Anglo-Norman structure, from which

"Old time bends down his visage grey."

It is very much defaced and mutilated.
wintry winds and time's iron hand

"Have worn the pillar's carving quaint,
And moulder'd in his niche the saint."

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St. Leonard's, too is worthy of notice. It comprises a nave, a north aisle, chancel, and tower surmounted by an unfinished spire, in the form of a truncated cone, which gives it a stunted appearance. There are several chapels too, destitute, I must confess, of external splendour, but

all the richer, I trust, in the splendour reflected from above; for, after all, what is a magnificent edifice, or a gorgeous ceremonial, or an eloquent ministry, if Christ be not uplifted, and the presence and power of the Holy Ghost be not felt ? Why, they are little better than a brilliant banquetting hall, with plate of glittering gold, and goblets of sparkling crystal upon the table, but no food to satisfy the cravings of hunger, and no liquid to quench the raging of thirst. I would, however, hope that there is no famine of "the bread and water of life" in either church or chapel; but that "the glorious gospel of the blessed God" is preached in its purity and simplicity; and that the presence and power of the Paraclete are sensibly felt in binding up broken hearts, soothing troubled spirits, and preparing immortal souls for glory.

Proceeding to old Malton, which is a small village about a mile from the Market-place, our attention is attracted by the church of the Old Gilbertine Priory.* This building was founded and endowed in the year 1150, by Eustace FitzJohn and his son, William de Vesci. The site was granted by Henry VIII. to Archbishop Holgate. The style is Transition Norman, rich in architectural beauty. "The west door has a handsome receding arch, composed of various mouldings, springing from an impost composed of the capitals of seven colums, attached to each jamb. The mouldings are a beautiful specimen

* A religious order so named from Gilbert, Lord of Sempingham.

of the lozenge, highly enriched; also the chevron and the diagonal flower, all executed in the twelfth century." I am an intense admirer of both Norman and Gothic architecture, and fancy I feel its beauties; but I must confess that "I always feel a strong repugnance to modern imitations of those old grotesque figures, seen on many of our venerable churches, whether they consist of droll distortions of the human face divine,' or monstrous misfigurements of some other forms of life. If the monkish sculptors intended any instruction by them, well: the moderns, at all events, have no such designs, and act as I think, unwisely in thus decorating places intended for christian worship."

I did not enter, and wander over the gravestone floor of this sacred edifice: but I suppose here, as in other ancient churches, may be found the marble effigies of the departed sons of wealth and war, with clasped hands uplifted on the breast in attitude of prayer,

"As though they did intend For past omissions to atone,

By saying endless prayers in stone."

What a striking illustration have we here of the fact that the grandest architecture may enshrine the grossest superstition-the noblest efforts of art may adorn the most clownish foolery of worship! Like the Greeks, who could build a Parthenon, and yet call Paul a babbler, the individuals who had skill enough to rear this stately pile were at the same time the abject slaves of the most grovelling superstition-bow