A Cathedral Courtship | Page 9

if he
had visited any other of the English cathedrals. Any others, indeed!
This to a youth who had been all but in her lap for a fortnight! It was a
blow, but he rallied bravely, and, with an amused look in my direction,
replied discreetly that he had visited most of them at one time or
another. I refused to let him see that I had ever noticed him before; that
is, particularly.
Memoranda: "The very stones and mortar of this historic town seem
impregnated with the spirit of restful antiquity." (Extract from one of
aunt Celia's letters.) Among the great men who have studied here are
the Prince of Wales, Duke of Wellington, Gladstone, Sir Robert Peel,
Sir Philip Sidney, William Penn, John Locke, the two Wesleys, Ruskin,
Ben Jonson, and Thomas Otway. (Look Otway up.)

HE

OXFORD, June 13 The Angel.
I have done it, and if I hadn't been a fool and a coward I might have
done it a week ago, and spared myself a good deal of delicious torment.
I have just given two hours to a sketch of Addison's Walk and carried it
to aunt Celia at the Mitre. Object, to find out whether they make a long
stay in London (our next point), and if so where. It seems they go
directly through. I said in the course of conversation, "So Miss
Schuyler is willing to forego a London season? Marvelous self-denial!"
"My niece did not come to Europe for a London season," replied Miss
Van Tyck. "We go through London this time merely as a cathedral
town, simply because it chances to be where it is geographically. We
shall visit St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey, and then go directly on,
that our chain of impressions may have absolute continuity and be free
from any disturbing elements."

Oh, but she is lovely, is aunt Celia!
LINCOLN, June 20 The Black Boy Inn.
I am stopping at a beastly little hole, which has the one merit of being
opposite Miss Schuyler's lodgings. My sketch-book has deteriorated in
artistic value during the last two weeks. Many of its pages, while
interesting to me as reminiscences, will hardly do for family or studio
exhibition. If I should label them, the result would be something like
this:-
1. Sketch of a footstool and desk where I first saw Miss Schuyler
kneeling.
2. Sketch of a carved-oak chair, Miss Schuyler sitting in it.
3. "Angel Choir." Heads of Miss Schuyler introduced into the carving.
4. Altar screen. Full length figure of Miss Schuyler holding lilies.
5. Tomb of a bishop, where I tied Miss Schuyler's shoe.
6. Tomb of another bishop, where I had to tie it again because I did it
so badly the first time.
7. Sketch of the shoe; the shoe-lace worn out with much tying.
8. Sketch of the blessed verger who called her "madam," when we were
walking together.
9. Sketch of her blush when he did it the prettiest thing in the world.
10. Sketch of J. Q. Copley contemplating the ruins of his heart.
"How are the mighty fallen!"

SHE

LINCOLN, June 22 At Miss Brown's, Castle Garden.
Mr. Copley HAS done something in the world; I was sure that he had.
He has a little income of his own, but he is too proud and ambitious to
be an idler. He looked so manly when he talked about it, standing up
straight and strong in his knickerbockers. I like men in knickerbockers.
Aunt Celia doesn't. She says she doesn't see how a well-brought-up
Copley can go about with his legs in that condition. I would give
worlds to know how aunt Celia ever unbent sufficiently to get engaged.
But, as I was saying, Mr. Copley has accomplished something, young
as he is. He has built three picturesque suburban churches suitable for
weddings, and a state lunatic asylum.
Aunt Celia says we shall have no worthy architecture until every

building is made an exquisitely sincere representation of its deepest
purpose,--a symbol, as it were, of its indwelling meaning. I should
think it would be very difficult to design a lunatic asylum on that basis,
but I didn't dare say so, as Mr. Copley seemed to think it all right. Their
conversation is absolutely sublimated when they get to talking of
architecture. I have just copied two quotations from Emerson, and am
studying them every night for fifteen minutes before I go to sleep. I'm
going to quote them some time offhand, just after morning service,
when we are wandering about the cathedral grounds. The first is this:
"The Gothic cathedral is a blossoming in stone, subdued by the
insatiable demand of harmony in man. The mountain of granite blooms
into an eternal flower, with the lightness and delicate