few minutes the verger removed the worsted cords by which the
passage ways in and through the choirs had been closed, and then there
commenced a general movement of the congregation in that direction. The
people, as they walked along, paused to look at the monuments that were
built in the walls; at the statues and groups of allegorical figures
that were placed here and there in niches and recesses; at the oak
carvings in the screens; the canopies and the stalls; at the
stained-glass windows, with the gorgeous representations which they
contained of apostles and saints; and at all the other architectural and
sculptured wonders of the place.

The congregation passed out from the choir into the nave through a sort
of gateway in the screen beneath the organ, at the place marked O in the
plan; and then, spreading out on each side, they passed between the
columns into the aisles, and thus moved slowly down the nave and the
aisles, surveying the monuments and sculptures as they proceeded. They
did not stop long at any place, but moved on continually, though slowly,
as if it were not the custom to walk about much for the purpose of
viewing the abbey on Sunday.

All this part of the church was entirely open, there being no pews or
seats, nor any fixtures of any kind, except the sepulchral monuments at
the sides. The floor was of stone, the pavement being composed, in a
great measure, of slabs carved with obituary inscriptions, some of which
were very ancient, while others were quite modern. The whole atmosphere
of the church seemed cold and damp, as if it were a tomb.

Rollo's attention was strongly attracted by the monuments that they
passed by in their walk. Many of the sculptures were larger than life,
and they were represented in various attitudes, and with various
accompanying symbols, according to the character or position in life of
the men whose exploits were commemorated by them. There were effigies of
modern men, studying books, or working with mathematical instruments, or
looking attentively at globes. There were rude sculptures of crusaders,
lying upon their backs on slabs of stone, their faces and forms
blackened by time, their noses and ears broken off, and sometimes with
an arm or a foot wanting. Then, as a contrast to these, there were
beautiful representations of ships and sea fights, all exquisitely
chiselled in the whitest of marble. There were angels and cherubs in
every imaginable form and position, and c