strokes of their chisels; and for this love of all men that they had, and
moreover for the great love of God, which they certainly had too; for
this, and for this work of theirs, the upraising of the great cathedral
front with its beating heart of the thoughts of men, wrought into the
leaves and flowers of the fair earth; wrought into the faces of good men
and true, fighters against the wrong, of angels who upheld them, of God
who rules all things; wrought through the lapse of years, and years, and
years, by the dint of chisel, and stroke of hammer, into stories of life
and death, the second life, the second death, stories of God's dealing in
love and wrath with the nations of the earth, stories of the faith and
love of man that dies not: for their love, and the deeds through which it
worked, I think they will not lose their reward.

So I will say what I can of their works, and I have to speak of Amiens
first, and how it seemed to me in the hot August weather.

I know how wonderful it would look, if you were to mount one of the
steeples of the town, or were even to mount up to the roof of one of the
houses westward of the cathedral; for it rises up from the ground, grey
from the paving of the street, the cavernous porches of the west front
opening wide, and marvellous with the shadows of the carving you can only
guess at; and above stand the kings, and above that you would see the
twined mystery of the great flamboyant rose window with its thousand
openings, and the shadows of the flower-work carved round it, then the
grey towers and gable, grey against the blue of the August sky, and
behind them all, rising high into the quivering air, the tall spire over
the crossing.

But from the hot Place Royale here with its stunted pollard acacias, and
statue of some one, I know not whom, but some citizen of Amiens I
suppose, you can see nothing but the graceful spire; it is of wood
covered over with lead, and was built quite at the end of the flamboyant
times. Once it was gilt all over, and used to shine out there, getting
duller and duller, as the bad years grew worse and worse; but the gold is
all gone now; when it finally disappeared I know not, but perhaps it was
in 1771, when the chapter got them the inside of their cathedral
whitewashed from vaulting to pavement.

The spire has two octagonal stages above the roof, formed of trefoiled
arches, and slim buttresses capped by leaded figures; from these stages
the sloping s