CHAPTER VI.

Mina Murray's Journal.

24 July.

Whitby.

Lucy met me at the station, looking sweeter and lovelier than ever, and we drove up to

the house at the crescent in which they have rooms.

This is a lovely place.

The little river, the Esk, runs through a deep valley which broadens out as it comes

near the harbor.

A great viaduct runs across with high peers, through which the view seems somehow further

away than it really is.

The valley is beautifully green, and it is so steep that when you are on the high land

on either side you look right across it, unless you are near enough to see down.

The houses of the old town decide away from us.

They are all red-roofed, and seem piled up one over the other anyhow, like the pictures

we see of Nuremberg.

Right over the town is the ruin of Whitby Abbey, which was sacked by the Danes, and which

is the scene of part of Marmel, where the girl was built up in the wall.

It is the most noble ruin of a meant size and full of beautiful and romantic bits.

There is a legend that a white lady is seen in one of the windows, between it and the

town, there is another church, the parish one, round which is a big graveyard, all full

of tombstones.

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