Grateful memories still linger of that vista--down the wide-aisled nave to the well-proportioned columns of the apse, bathed in rich colours from the stained glass, which, modern though it be, is worthy, when compared with our recollections of Notre Dame de Cluny. The interior has not many decorative features, except the fluted pilasters, and the archivolts, somewhat in the Lombard style, in which the lozenge and the billet ornament are effectively used. Very local, on the contrary, and very characteristic are the Byzantine beasts carved among the foliage on the capitals of the ambulatory. 'Tis a pity that the crossings are so prominent; their nudity enhances the ill-effect of the debauch of whitewash that renders the interior so cold. One of the few good monuments is a fifteenth-century, south-eastern, transeptal chapel, with the remains of the gothic canopied tomb of the Seigneurs of Digoin. The windows, doors and niches of the chapel are satisfactory, but the ribbed vaulting is clumsy, and much too heavy for so small a roof. I believe that the figures are all modern. As we left by the north transept, we noticed a lady standing before the statue of St. Peter. Rising upon her toes until her bonnet feathers nodded, she was just able, with an effort, to kiss the toe of the Saint. I examined that toe; it was bright with the salutes of the faithful. Nowhere do I remember to have seen so many appeals and warnings against blasphemy and desecration as are displayed in the church of Paray. No doubt they are needful and salutary; but it struck us, that, before enforcing too severely their observance, the ecclesiastical authorities would do well to set their own house in order, and, once for all, to sweep the precincts of their basilica clear of all rubbish, human and inanimate, that now defiles it. I wonder, sometimes, whether those who are responsible for the condition of affairs at Paray, and other great French churches, have ever seen the close of Salisbury, or of Wells, or can ever have realized how enhancing to the dignity and grandeur of mediæval architecture, and how seemly, as settings to a sacred building, are the delicious haunts of peace, upon whose trim, green lawns and ancestral elms, those ancient cathedrals look down. That, having done so, they can be content to let the towers of Paray rise from among tawdry booths and a howling wilderness of filth and débris, is something I do not care to believe. That is why, having visited in hope Cluny's lovely daughter, we left her with little other feeling than one of sadness that such things should be. * * * * *