provincial France--the hotel with the queer name--another inducement for
us to idle on the way. The town itself is in no way remarkable, but it
abounds in magnificent old churches of various epochs--some falling into
decay, others restored, one and all deserving attention. St. Jean is
especially noteworthy, its beautiful interior showing much exquisite
tracery and almost a fanciful arrangement of transepts. It is very rich
in good modern glass. But the gem of gems is not to be found in Chalons
itself; more interesting and beautiful than its massive cathedral and
church of Notre Dame, than St. Jean even, is the exquisite church of
Notre Dame de l'Epine, situated in a poor hamlet a few miles beyond the
octroi gates. We have here, indeed, a veritable cathedral in a
wilderness, nothing to be imagined more graceful than the airy open
colonnades of its two spires, light as a handful of wheat ears loosely
bound together. The colour of the grey stone gives solemnity to the rest
of the exterior, which is massive and astonishingly rich in the grotesque
element. We carefully studied the gargoyles round the roof, and, in spite
of defacements, made out most of them--here a grinning demon with a
struggling human being in its clutch--there an odd beast, part human,
part pig, clothed in a kind of jacket, playing a harp--dozens of comic,
hideous, heterogeneous figures in various attitudes and travesties.

[Illustration: Provins, The Capitol]

Notre Dame de l'Epine--originally commemorative of a famous shrine--has
been restored, and purists in architecture will pass it by as an
achievement of Gothic art in the period of its decline, but it is
extremely beautiful nevertheless. On the way from Chalons-sur-Marne to
Nancy we catch glimpses of other noble churches that stand out from the
flat landscape as imposingly as Ely Cathedral. These are Notre Dame of
Vitry le Francois and St. Etienne of Toul, formerly a cathedral, both