Then I said, "Oh yes," and affected the knowledge
of Doncaster Week which I resolved to acquire by staying
somewhere in York till it was over.
But as yet, that Friday afternoon, there was no hurry, and,
instead of setting about a search for lodgings at once, we drove
up into the town, as soon as we had tea, and visited York Minster
while it was still the gray afternoon and not yet the gray
evening. I thought the hour fortunate, and I do not see yet how
we could have chosen a better hour out of the whole twenty-four,
for the inside or the outside of the glorious fane, the grandest
and beautifulest in all England, as I felt then and I feel now.
If I were put to the question and were forced to say in what its
supreme grandeur and beauty lay, I should perhaps say in its most
ample simplicity. No doubt it is full of detail, but I keep no
sense of this from that mighty interior, with its tree-like,
clustered pillars, and its measureless windows, like breadths of
stained foliage in autumnal woodlands. You want the scale of
nature for the Minster at York, and I cannot liken it to less
than all-out-doors.
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