war. Before our present contests, the markets of France, Spain, and Portugal, kept its pin-merchants in active employ, and poured a considerable quantity of money into the city; but the halcyon season is over, and four-fifths of the workmen formerly employed in this branch of business have long since been obliged to turn to other methods of labour for a subsistence.
The two most remarkable public edifices which arrest a stranger's attention here, are the cathedral and the gaol; the former a fine specimen of ancient architecture, the latter a noble instance of modern philanthropy. Nothing can exceed the beautiful lightness of the tower of the cathedral, relieved by open worked pinnacles at each corner; nor is a grander example of the fine Saxon style (as it is called) to be found, than in the nave of the building. These members are the most ancient of the structure, the one raised by abbot Henry Foliot in 1237, the other by abbot Serlo one hundred and fifty years before. Built by Norman architects, the form of the edifice is similar to that generally adopted by this people—a cross, consisting of a nave, two side-ailes, a transept, and choir, with a Lady's chapel afterwards added; a form suggested by that of the engine of torture on which the salvation of mankind was effected. Its length east