“The last part of your narrative makes me feel melancholy,” said Miss Hertford. “Let us go into the fresh air and see the Cathedral which has survived these Goths and Vandals.”
The Square.
We accordingly made our way down the High Street, and proceeded through the passage by the Butter Cross. Passing through the Square, we stopped before entering the graveyard to visit Mr. Chalkley’s, the taxidermist’s—which may be regarded as a kind of “dead-alive” place. Here are the beautiful remains of natives of many sunny climes. Can we suppose that such little beings with cherub wings and voices are—
“Denied in heaven the souls they held on earth”?
Opposite we observed the Mechanics Institute, on the site of which—then at the south side of the Market—there was, until 1790, an anomalous building—a butchery below, a theatre above. There were plenty of stalls here, containing, not cushions, but meat, and along them and at the corners stood strong oaken columns, while hooks for joints were fastened into the rafters which supported the floor of the theatre. Warton humorously describes this strange combination—
“Divided only by one flight of stairs
The monarch swaggers and the butcher swears!
Quick the transition when the curtain drops
From meek Monimia’s moans to mutton chops!
While for Lothario’s loss Lavinia cries,