They abound in the
poorer sorts of buildings, of course, just as they do in the
poorer sorts of people, but in their simpler courts and squares
and expanses they have often dignified mansions of that Georgian
architecture which seems the last word in its way, and which is
known here in our older edifices as there in their newer. Some of
them are said to have "richly carved ceilings, wainscoted,
panelled rooms, chimneypieces with paintings framed in the over-
mantel, dentilled cornices, and pedimented doors," and I could
well believe it, as I passed them with an envious heart. There
were gardens behind these mansions which hung their trees over
the spiked coping of their high-shouldered walls and gates, and
sequestered I know not what damp social events in their flowery
and leafy bounds.
[Illustration: WALMGATE BAR HAS A BARBICAN]
At times I distinctly wished to know something of the life of
York, but I was not in the way of it. The nearest to an
acquaintance I had there, besides my critical fruiterer, was the
actor whose name I recognized on his bills as that of a brave
youth who had once dramatized a novel of mine, and all too
briefly played the piece, and who was now to come to York for a
week of Shakespeare.
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