of the Virgin,
to the resting of the feet of the Child (who is almost self-balanced) in
the fold of the robe that she holds gently, to the falling of the quiet
lines of her robe over her feet, to the resting of its folds between
them.

The square heads of the door-valves, and a flat moulding above them which
runs up also into the first division of the tympanum, is covered with
faintly cut diaper-work of four-leaved flowers.

Along the jambs of the doorway on the north side stand six kings, all
bearded men but one, who is young apparently; I do not know who these
are, but think they must be French kings; one, the farthest toward the
outside of the porch, has taken his crown off, and holds it in his hand:
the figures on the other side of the door-jambs are invisible in the
photograph except one, the nearest to the door, young, sad, and earnest
to look at--I know not who he is. Five figures outside the porch, and on
the angles of the door-jambs, are I suppose prophets, perhaps those who
have prophesied of the birth of our Lord, as this door is apportioned to
the Virgin.

The first division of the tympanum has six sitting figures in it; on each
side of the canopy over the Virgin's head, Moses and Aaron; Moses with
the tables of the law, and Aaron with great blossomed staff: with them
again, two on either side, sit the four greater prophets, their heads
veiled, and a scroll lying along between them, over their knees; old they
look, very old, old and passionate and fierce, sitting there for so long.

The next division has in it the death and burial of the Virgin,--the
twelve Apostles clustering round the deathbed of the Virgin. I wish my
photograph were on a larger scale, for this indeed seems to me one of the
most beautiful pieces of carving about this church, those earnest faces
expressing so many things mingled with their regret that she will be no
more with them; and she, the Virgin-Mother, in whom all those prophecies
were fulfilled, lying so quiet there, with her hands crossed downwards,
dead at last. Ah! and where will she go now? whose face will she see
always? Oh! that we might be there too! Oh! those faces so full of all
tender regret, which even They must feel for Her; full of all yearning,
and longing that they too might finish the long fight, that they might be
with the happy dead: there is a wonder on their faces too, when they see
what the mighty power of Death is. The foremost is bending down, with