It will be seen that in comparison with other English towns Salisbury is not old.  Like several others its foundations were entirely ecclesiastical, for as soon as the builders of the new Cathedral started upon their work the civil population of Old Sarum migrated to the water meadows with as little delay as possible, and the Bishop’s architects planned for them a town with regular streets and square blocks of dwellings all much of a size, a characteristic that will strike the most unobservant traveller and which differentiates this from most other English towns in a marked degree.

[Illustration:  SALISBURY MARKET PLACE.]

From whichever side Salisbury has been entered; by either of the great roads; or by the railway that, from the east, makes a long tour of the north side of the town in kindly purpose, it would seem, to give the passer-by a good view—­there rises before him the glorious spire that, whatever the boast of uniformity of style or perfection of design, really gives the exterior of the building its unique beauty and without which it would be cold and dull.  To the Cathedral then, as its spire is calling so insistently, the stranger must inevitably make his way before troubling about anything else in the town.  Our approach happens to coincide with that of the traveller who arrives by rail, and down Fisherton Street, an unusually winding thoroughfare for Salisbury, over the Avon bridge and through the High Street Gate we enter the most beautiful of those abodes of beauty—­the English cathedral closes.  The guide books advise the tourist to make the first approach by way of St. Anne’s Gate, when the gradual unfolding of the north front of the building makes a perfect introduction to the Cathedral, but so does that of the sudden view of the whole, with the tower and spire as an exquisite centre, as we leave the row of well-ordered houses, mixed with a few quiet shops, that line the approach from High Street to the north-west angle of the Close.  A pleasing presentment of Edward VII now looks down this old by-street from the High Street Gate and is Salisbury’s tribute to that lover of peace.  The Close is bordered by beautiful old houses, some quite noble in their proportions, but likely to be overlooked by all but the most leisured visitor.  It is so difficult to look at anything but the tower and spire, and it is best to forget that another tower, a campanile, similar to that at Chichester, once stood on this greensward, to be wantonly destroyed by James Wyatt.  This is said to have been garrisoned by the Parliamentary army during the Civil War.  The Deanery, opposite the west door, is a quaintly charming building and the gabled King’s House is said to date from the fourteenth century.  No incongruous note ever seems to mar the serenity of the great green square.  The passers-by all apparently fit their environment; schoolgirls in their teens, fresh faced and happy; clergy of the Chapter, true type of the modern intellectual priest; an occasional workman