rival;--certainly not a superior.

[Illustration]

As the evening came on, the gloom of almost every side chapel and recess
was rendered doubly impressive by the devotion of numerous straggling
supplicants; and invocations to the presiding spirit of the place, reached
the ears and touched the hearts of the bystanders. The grand western
entrance presents you with the most perfect view of the choir--a magical
circle, or rather oval--flanked by lofty and clustered pillars, and free
from the surrounding obstruction of screens, &c. Nothing more airy and more
captivating of the kind can be imagined. The finish and delicacy of these
pillars are quite surprising. Above, below, around--every thing is in the
purest style of the XIVth and XVth centuries. The central tower is a tower
of beauty as well as of strength. Yet in regard to further details,
connected with the interior, it must be admitted that there is very little
more which is deserving of particular description; except it be _the
gallery_, which runs within the walls of the nave and choir, and which is
considerably more light and elegant than that of the cathedral. A great
deal has been said about the circular windows at the end of the south
transept, and they are undoubtedly elegant: but compared with the one at
the extremity of the nave, they are rather to be noticed from the tale
attached to them, than from their positive beauty. The tale, my friend, is
briefly this. These windows were finished (as well as the larger one at the
west front) about the year 1439. One of them was executed by the
master-mason, the other by his apprentice; and on being criticised by
competent judges, the performance of the _latter_ was said to eclipse that
of the former. In consequence, the master became jealous and revengeful,
and actually poniarded his apprentice. He was of course tried, condemned,
and executed; but an existing monument to his memory attests the humanity