The first sight of the Hradšany conveys an impression of sheer strength, much as does Gibraltar; it also suggests a lion couchant but watchful and strong to protect the city at its feet; this effect is particularly noticeable from the Fürstenberg garden. The beauty of this massive pile grows upon you gradually as you see it under the ever-varying atmospheric conditions of Prague. By all the canons of art the long straight lines of the Hradšany should be unlovely. The towers which broke those lines no longer stand out boldly as shown in old prints and engravings, at least on the townward side of the castle. They have been gradually merged into the general mass of the building as time and progress brought greater demands for living room and lessened the need of defensive measures. The straight outlines are still broken here and there by some trace of the ancient building showing through, a mullioned window, an old stack of chimneys, but on the whole, the mass by itself is heavy and uniform. Nevertheless, the general effect is splendid, whether you see this stately pile standing out strong and massive above the mist from the river or rising in tiers out of dimmed silvery greys against an evening sky all gold and emerald, or flushed with sunset scarlet. The crown of all this terraced glory is the great cathedral. A square massive tower stands up out of the body of the church. A purist may find fault with the mixture of styles this tower incorporates. The bulk of its structure is Gothic; at the base of the superstructure appears a nondescript medley of styles (nondescript at least in the eyes of a dilettante) out of which arises a concern of domes and cupolas one above the other, supported at each corner by little pinnacles crowned with onion-shaped tops. The copper coating of these domes and cupolas gives a distinctive touch of colour to the whole edifice of warm grey stone; this note of green you will find repeated elsewhere on the churches and other buildings of Prague, a piquant note but alien to the spirit of Prague both ancient and modern. There has been talk of removing the superstructure from the main tower of the cathedral and replacing it by a Gothic spire such as adorn the towers that flank the west front of the building, spires that gleam like lacework when standing out sunlit against dark banks of cloud. It were best to leave the superstructure of the main tower as it is; it marks an epoch and serves as reminder of a tyranny now overpast. The highest point of the main tower is not adorned with a usual emblem of our faith, a cross or a cock, but flaunts instead the "Lion of Bohemia" in all his rampant pride of a double tail. I shall have more to say about this wonderful heraldic animal on some future occasion; it is significant that this crest swings over the sacred fane where rest the remains of St. Wenceslaus, over the cradle of Bohemia's religious life.