again forever, and still show undetected meanings, like a great, broad page of marvellous writing in black-letter,—­so many sculptured ornaments there are, blossoming out before your eyes, and gray statues that have grown there since you looked last, and empty niches, and a hundred airy canopies beneath which carved images used to be, and where they will show themselves again, if you gaze long enough.—­But I will not say another word about the Cathedral.

We spent the rest of the day within the sombre precincts of the Saracen’s Head, reading yesterday’s “Times,” “The Guide-Book of Lincoln,” and “The Directory of the Eastern Counties.”  Dismal as the weather was, the street beneath our window was enlivened with a great bustle and turmoil of people all the evening, because it was Saturday night, and they had accomplished their week’s toil, received their wages, and were making their small purchases against Sunday, and enjoying themselves as well as they knew how.  A band of music passed to and fro several times, with the rain-drops falling into the mouth of the brazen trumpet and pattering on the bass-drum; a spirit-shop, opposite the hotel, had a vast run of custom; and a coffee-dealer, in the open air, found occasional vent for his commodity, in spite of the cold water that dripped into the cups.  The whole breadth of the street, between the Stone Bow and the bridge across the Witham, was thronged to overflowing, and humming with human life.

Observing in the Guide-Book that a steamer runs on the River Witham between Lincoln and Boston, I inquired of the waiter, and learned that she was to start on Monday, at ten o’clock.  Thinking it might be an interesting trip, and a pleasant variation of our customary mode of travel, we determined to make the voyage.  The Witham flows through Lincoln, crossing the main street under an arched bridge of Gothic construction, a little below the Saracen’s Head.  It has more the appearance of a canal than of a river, in its passage through the town,—­being bordered with hewn stone mason-work on each side, and provided with one or two locks.  The steamer proved to be small, dirty, and altogether inconvenient.  The early morning had been bright; but the sky now lowered upon us with a sulky English temper, and we had not long put off before we felt an ugly wind from the German Ocean blowing right in our teeth.  There were a number of passengers on board, country-people, such as travel by third-class on the railway; for, I suppose, nobody but ourselves ever dreamt of voyaging, by the steamer for the sake of what he might happen upon in the way of river-scenery.