27–31 December 1847

I went over Worcester Cathedral, part of which has stood nine hundred years (?). I saw the tomb of King John ; of Prince Arthur, son of Henry VII; and especially, and with most delight, some old tombs of crusaders with their mailed legs crossed in marble, and the counte- nances, handsome and refined as the English gentlemen of to-day, and with that uncorrupt youth in the face of manhood, which I often see here. From the tower I had the fine picture of the Severn for many a mile, and the Malvern Hills.