to bedstead warehouses in the same region.  That brightest of all our historical blades, “P.  Whittle, F.A.S.,” states that it is located on the south-west side of Friargate—­a better, but still very mystical, exposition to all not actually acquainted with the place; whilst Hardwicke comes up to the rescue in the panoply of modern exactness, and tells us that it is on the south side of Fishergate.  These historians must have missed their way in trying to find the place, and in their despair guessed at its real situation.  There are many ways to St. George’s—­you can get to it from Fishergate, Lune-street, Friargate, or the Market place; but if each of those ways was thrown into one complete whole, the road would still be fifteenth rate.  Tortuousness and dimness mark them, and a strong backyard spirit of adventure must operate largely in the minds of some who manage to reach the building.

The churchyard of St. George’s has nothing interesting to the common mind about it.  The great bulk of the grave stones are put flat upon the ground—­arranged so that people can walk over them with ease and comfort, whatever may become of the letters; and if it were not for a few saplings which shoot out their bright foliage periodically, and one very ancient little tree which has become quite tired of that business, the yard would look very grave and monotonous.  The principal entrance can be reached by way of Lune-street or Chapel-walks; but when you have got to it, there is nothing very peculiar to be seen.  It is plain, rather gloomy, and in no way interesting.

The interior of the church wears a somewhat similar complexion; but it improves by observation, and in the end you like it for its thorough simplicity.  No place of worship can in its internal arrangements be much plainer than St. George’s.  If it were not for three stained windows in the chancel, which you can but faintly make out at a distance, nothing which could by any possibility be termed ornamental would at first sight strike you.  On reaching the centre of the place you get a moderately clear view of the pulpit which somewhat edifies the mind; and, on turning right round, you see a magnificent organ which compensates for multitudes of defects, and below it—­in front of the orchestra—­a rather powerful representation of the royal arms, a massive lion and unicorn, “fighting for the crown” as usual, and got up in polished wood work.  We see no reason why there should not be something put up contiguously, emblematic of St. George and the dragon.  It is very unfair to the saint and unjust to the dragon to ignore them altogether—­The Ten Commandments are put on one side in this church--not done away with, but erected in a lateral position, very near a corner and somewhat out of the way.  One of the historians previously quoted says that St. George’s used to be “heated by what is commonly called a cockle”—­some sort of a warmth radiating apparatus, which he describes minutely and with apparent pleasure.  We have not