he general grouping of the whole
structure in combination with the buildings which are gathered about its
haunches, though with no suspicion of a detracting element as in some
sordid and crowded cities, where, in spite of undeniable
picturesqueness, is presented a squalor and poverty not creditable
either to the city of its habitation or to the cathedral authorities
themselves. From every point of vantage the steeples of Notre Dame de
Noyon add the one ingredient which makes a unity of the entire
ensemble,--a true old-world atmosphere, a town seen in not too apparent
a state of unrepair and certainly not a degenerate.

The interior presents no less striking or noble features. It is not
stupendous or remarkably awesome; but it is grand, with a subtleness
which is inexpressible. Round and pointed arches are intermixed, and
there is a notable display of the round variety in the upper ranges of
the quadrupled elevation of the nave, the lightness, which might
otherwise have been marred, being preserved through the employment of a
series of simple lancets in the clerestory of the choir. Rearward of the
south transept are the chapter-house and the scanty remains of a Gothic
cloister, where a somewhat careworn combination of the forces of nature
and art have culminated in giving an unusually old-world charm to this
apparently neglected gem, as well representative of early French Gothic
as any in existence to-day.

IV

NOTRE DAME DE SOISSONS

Soissons, the other primitive example, is at once a surprise and a
disappointment. From the railway, on entering the town, one is highly
impressed with the grouping of a sky-piercing, twin-spired structure of
ample and symmetrical proportions; and at some distance therefrom is
seen another building, possibly enough of less importance. Curiously, it
is the cathedral which is the less imposing, and, until one is well up
with the beautifully formed spires, he hardly realizes that they
represent all that is left of the majestic Abbey of _St. Jean des
Vignes_, where Becket spent nine long years. It is a mere bit of stage
scenery, with height and breadth, but no thickness. It is a pity that
such a charming structure as this noble building must once have been is
now left to crumble. The magnificent rose window, or rather the circular
opening which it once occupied, is now but a mere orifice, of great
proportions, but destitute of glazing. The entire confines of the
building, which cro