If I fail in my purpose of entertaining you
with these unimportant occurrences, they will at least serve as
exercises of patience, for which you are indebted to
Yours always,
J. MELFORD
MORPETH, July 13.
To Dr LEWIS.
DEAR DOCTOR,
I have now reached the northern extremity of England, and see,
close to my chamber-window, the Tweed gliding through the arches
of that bridge which connects this suburb to the town of
Berwick. -- Yorkshire you have seen, and therefore I shall say
nothing of that opulent province. The city of Durham appears like
a confused heap of stones and brick, accumulated so as to cover a
mountain, round which a river winds its brawling course. The
Streets are generally narrow, dark, and unpleasant, and many of
them almost impassible in consequence of their declivity. The
cathedral is a huge gloomy pile; but the clergy are well lodged. --
The bishop lives in a princely manner -- the golden prebends keep
plentiful tables -- and, I am told, there is some good sociable
company in the place; but the country, when viewed from the top
of Gateshead-Fell, which extends to Newcastle, exhibits the
highest scene of cultivation that ever I beheld.
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