I was pleased to be alone to
drink in the grandeur. I never could half describe that picture, it
was as one brief glimpse of some paradise that appears only in
dreamland. Not a sound marred the effect. All was calm and peaceful
indeed. Stretching out in graceful curves lay the river, looking
indeed like living silver; the soft, green sward and grassy bank;
then the Cathedral in its sombre Gothic dress, its leafy grove, its
hallowed associations. I looked further, and there stood the
outlying hills crowned with lovely foliage, and above all the soft,
fleecy clouds chasing each other through the blue sky. Soft and
beautiful as an Italian landscape! And the neat, suburban cottages
with artistically-arranged flower gardens in front. All was in
keeping with the scene.
'No sound of busy life was heard.'
"As I stood in wrapt admiration, the Cathedral clock chimed out in
soft, silvery tones, summoning the worshipper to the morning matin.
Presently a figure emerges from the doorway of a neat residence and
crosses the street. It is the Lord Bishop, who for so many years has
crossed the same well-beaten path. The calm serenity of the place,
the hour and the solemnity of the scene was overpowering.
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