'What a sight for an antiquarian!' exclaimed Mr Pickwick, as he lifted his telescope to his eye.

Ah! fine place,' said the stranger, 'glorious place - high, frightening walls - tottering arches - dark corners - crumbling staircases. There is an old cathedral too - smells of earth - pilgrims' feet wore away the old steps.

It has little Saxon doors - they were strange people those monks and popes, and lord treasurers, and all sorts of old fellows, with big red faces, and broken noses, turning up every day to pray. There's a sarcophagus - fine place, that cathedral - old legends too - strange stories'. The stranger continued to talk to himself until they reached the Bull Inn, in the High Street, where the coach stopped.

'Are you staying here, Sir?' inquired Mr Nathaniel Winkle.