ould be peopled in this manner, and since then the work has proceeded
steadily. The western towers are built each of six stages: each of the two
upper tiers contains two two-light windows, while below there is a large
four-light window uniform with the windows of the aisles. The base tier is
ornamented with rich panelling. The parapet is battlemented and the angles
are finished with fine double pinnacles. At the west end there is a large
window of seven lights, with three transoms. The gable contains a window
of very curious shape, filled with intricate tracery. The space above the
aisle windows is ornamented with quatrefoiled squares, and the clerestory
is pierced by windows of three lights. In the main transept there is a
fine perpendicular window of eight lights; the choir, or south-east
transept, has a Norman front, with arcades, and a large round window; also
an arcaded west turret surmounted by a short spire. Beyond this, the line
is again broken by the projection of St. Anselm's so-called Tower; this
chapel hardly merits such a title, unless we adopt the theory that it, and
the corresponding building on the north side, were at one time a good deal
more lofty, but lost their upper portions at the time of the great fire.
The end of the cathedral has a rather untidy appearance, owing to the fact
that the exterior of the corona was never completed. On the northern side
the building is so closely interwoven with the cloister and monastic
buildings that it can only be considered in conjunction with them. The
length of the cathedral is 514 feet, the height of the central tower 235
feet, and that of the western towers 130 feet.

The chief interest of ancient buildings to the ordinary observer, as apart
from the architectural specialist, is the fact that they are after all the
most authentic documents in our possession from which we can gain any
insight into the lives and modes of thought of our ancestors. To tell us
how ordinary men lived and busied themselves is beneath the dignity of
history. As Carlyle says: "The thing I want to see is not Redbook Lists,
and Court Calendars, and Parliamentary Registers, but the _Life of Man_ in
England: what men did, thought, suffered, enjoyed; ... Mournful, in truth,
is it to behold what the business 'called History' in these so enlightened
and illuminated times, still continues to be. Can you gather from it, read
till your eyes go out, any dimmest shadow of an answer to that great
que