One might almost suppose that the Cambojan architects had deliberately set themselves to rectify the chief faults of Indian architecture. One of these is the profusion of external ornament in high relief which by its very multiplicity ceases to produce any effect proportionate to its elaboration, with the result that the general view is disappointing and majestic outlines are wanting. In Cambojan buildings on the contrary the general effect is not sacrificed to detail: the artists knew how to make air and space give dignity to their work. Another peculiar defect of many Dravidian buildings is that they were gradually erected round some ancient and originally humble shrine with the unfortunate result that the outermost courts and gateways are the most magnificent and that progress to the holy of holies is a series of artistic disappointments. But at Angkor Wat this fault is carefully avoided. The long paved road which starts from the first gateway isolates the great central mass of buildings without dwarfing it and even in the last court, when one looks up the vast staircases leading to the five towers which crown the pyramid, all that has led up to the central shrine seems, as it should, merely an introduction. The solidity of Cambojan architecture is connected with the prevalence of inundations. With such dangers it was of primary importance to have a massive substructure which could not be washed away and the style which was necessary in building a firm stone platform inspired the rest of the work. Some unfinished temples reveal the interesting fact that they were erected first as piles of plain masonry. Then came the decorator and carved the stones as they stood in their places, so that instead of carving separate blocks he was able to contemplate his design as a whole and to spread it over many stones. Hence most Cambojan buildings have a peculiar air of unity. They have not had ornaments affixed to them but have grown into an ornamental whole. Yet if an unfavourable criticism is to be made on these edifices--especially Angkor Wat--it is that the sculptures are wanting in meaning and importance. They cannot be compared to the reliefs of Boroboedoer, a veritable catechism in stone where every clause teaches the believer something new, or even to the piles of figures in Dravidian temples which, though of small artistic merit, seem to represent the whirl of the world with all its men and monsters, struggling from life into death and back to life again. The reliefs in the great corridors of Angkor are purely decorative. The artist justly felt that so long a stretch of plain stone would be wearisome, and as decoration, his work is successful. Looking outwards the eye is satisfied with such variety as the trees and houses in the temple courts afford: looking inwards it finds similar variety in the warriors and deities portrayed on the walls. Some of the scenes have an historical interest, but the attempt to follow the battles of the