With St. Malo a difference exists. Its cathedral, now degenerated to a parish church, is a Gothic work mainly of the fifteenth century, and, regardless of its unimposing qualities, is one of those fascinating old buildings which, in its environment and surroundings, appeals perhaps more largely to us as a component of a whole than as a feature to be admired by itself. The church, safely sheltered from the ravage of gale and storm, sits amid narrow winding streets, whose buildings are so compressed as to rise to heights unusual in the smaller Continental towns. The edifice is mainly of the fifteenth century, but has been variously renovated and restored. Gothic, Renaissance, and the transition between the two are plainly discernible throughout. Perhaps the best art to be noted is that found in the interior of the choir, with its fine triforium and clerestory windows above. Here, again, is to be observed the squared east end of the English contemporary church, a further reminder, if it be needed, of the influences which were bound to be more or less exchanged with regard to the arts and customs of the time, on both shores of _La Manche_. A few features of passing interest are here, an ivory crucifix, a few tombs, and some indifferent paintings. The spire is modern, but gives a suggestion, at least, in viewing the city from a distance, of something of what a mediaeval walled seaport, with its population huddled close beneath the shadow of the church, and within the city walls, must have been like. The best example of this which ever existed in mediaeval France, and which exists to-day in a more than ordinary remarkable state of preservation, is the famous Mount St. Michel, a few miles only to the eastward, and famed of all, historian, ecclesiast, artist, and mere pleasure-seeker, alike. Most writers are pleased to refer to the confiding attitude of mine host, who conducts the principal hostelry on the Mount, and who guilelessly asks the wary traveller (ofttimes they _are_ wary) what he has partaken of during his stay, and makes up the account accordingly. This is, perhaps, not the least of attributive charms, though it should be a minor one where this wonderful and real Mount, which takes its name from legendary St. Michel, is concerned. Indeed, leaving the cathedrals at Rouen, Chartres, and Le Mans out of the question, it is doubtful if the Abbey of Mont St. Michel is not the chief remaining architectural glory of the middle ages, west of Paris. It is but a short distance from St. Malo to St. Servan, but what a difference! It is called by the French themselves the daughter of St. Malo,--the "faubourg grown into a city."