companions in these terms:

Voici ma main, cause de mon malheur,
Et voici ma langue detestable!
Ma main qui a fait le peche,
Et ma langue qui l'a nie.

The bas-relief represents the Adoration of the Magi, and bears date
1588, whilst the upper part bears that of 1581.

The interior of the church possesses some wonderful and almost matchless
carved wood, which surprised and delighted us. There were sixteenth
century statues, full of expression, of St. Herve and St. Miliau; an
elaborate and beautiful pulpit, a font with a canopy supported by
twisted columns, magnificently carved and thirty feet high, dated 1675;
a matchless organ case, with three bas-reliefs, representing David, St.
Cecilia and a Triumphal March, the latter reproduced from one of
Alexander's battles by Lebrun.

In short, Guimiliau was a treasury of sculptured wood, which alone would
have made it remarkable amongst churches. It was almost impossible to
leave its fascination, and I fear that we more than envied the church
its possession. It also came with a surprise, for we had heard nothing
of this treasure of refined carving, and had anticipated nothing more
than the wonderful calvary. It still lives in our imagination, almost as
a dream; a dream of beauty and genius.

We lingered as long as we dared, but knew that we should not travel back
at express speed, and that our coachman, after his indulgence in Breton
beer or spirit, would probably be more sleepy than ever.

The sun was declining as we left Guimiliau, the church and its monuments
forming a very singular composition against the background of the sky as
we turned and gave it a farewell look. One scarcely analysed the reason,
but there was almost an effect of heathendom about it, as if it dated
from some remote age, when visible objects were worshipped, and the sun
and the moon and dragons and grotesques took a prominent place in
religion.

The sun was declining and twilight was beginning to creep over the land.
It threw out in greater relief the wayside crosses that we passed on the
road, solemnising the scene, and insensibly leading the mind to
contemplation; all the beauty, all the mystery of our faith, the lights
and shadows of our earthly pilgrimage, so typified by the days and
nights of creation; and the "one far-off divine event" which concerns us
all.

When we entered Morlaix the sun had set; table d'hote was not over, and
we knew that Catherine had our places and