itated and refined, as of periods of decline, and,
on the other, a non-Byzantine and barbarous style, strong and coarse
as of races still vital and vigorous. A like conflict is found in
the North of Italy between the Byzantine and the Lombard manner;
and even in England the west front of Wells Cathedral presents the
same unresolved contradictions. It would seem that over the greater
part of Europe, Eastern as well as Western, these two hostile arts
were practiced contemporaneously; at all events the same buildings
are found to display the two opposite styles. It would appear probable,
however, that the respective artists or artisans belonged to at
least two distinct nationalities.

The Pecherskoi Monastery, or Kievo-Pecherskaya Lavra, at Kief, the
Kremlin in Moscow, and the grand monastery of Troitza, have this
in common, that the situation is commanding, the site elevated.
Also, these three venerable sanctuaries are strongholds, for though
the holy places at Kief are not on all sides fortified, yet the
approach from the old city, which is the most accessible, lies
along bastions and walls. In fact, here we have again a semblance
to the ancient idea of a church, a citadel, and a palace united,
as in an acropolis--the Church and the State being one; the arm
of the flesh sustaining the sword of the spirit,--a condition of
things which has always given to the world its noblest art. The
walk to this most ancient monastery in Russia passes pleasantly by
the side of a wood; then opens a view of the vast plain beneath,
intersected by the river Dnieper, over which is flung the great
suspension-bridge built by the English engineer, Charles Vignolles,
at the cost of L350,000. The immediate approach is lined with open
shops or stalls for the sale of sacred pictures, engravings of
saints, and other articles which pilgrims love to carry back to
their homes. Within the enclosure trees throw a cool shade, under
which, as in the courtyards of mosques in Constantinople, the hot
and weary may repose.

The cathedral dedicated to the ascension of the Virgin, has not
the slightest pretence to external architecture. The walls are
mostly whitewashed, and some of the windows have common square
heads crowned by mean pediments; the intervening pilasters and
floral decorations in relief, and all in the midst of whitewash,
are of the poorest character. The seven gilded cupolas or domes
may be compared to inverted cups surmounted by crosses. The