Built 1090-1230. The most important example of Norman architecture in England. The entire building has been recently restored, structure. The third chapter, which presents the chronological order of architectural periods, and also a valuable condensed, tabulated statement of the peculiar characteristics of each of the three styles of Gothic architecture, is best studied later. The only other chapter of this valuable little book which claims attention for our present purpose is Chapter IX., in which the principles of construction and design, and some facts about the use of materials in Gothic architecture, are given. The study of Norman architecture in connection with English cathedrals is not treated in this handbook, except in the brief section of characteristics. For this and for needed supplementary study of the details of Gothic architecture, I do not know of a book so valuable to the amateur as the "Introduction to Gothic Architecture," by John Henry Parker (imported, $2), another English publication, the popularity of which is proved by the fact that it is now in its eleventh edition. The book measures about 6% × 41⁄2 inches, contains 331 pages, is profusely and clearly illustrated, and has an excellent index and glossary. The style is somewhat conversational, and the important text is distinguished from the less important and incidental by coarse type. The names of the first chapters may serve to indicate the scope of the volume, and are as follows: "From the Roman Period to the End of the Tenth Century; The Eleventh Century; The Early Norman Period, A.D. 1050-1125; The Late Norman Style, A.D. 1125–1175; The most notable example of Early English. The chief reason for its extraordinary purity and harmony is that it was begun and finished within a period of forty years (1220-1260). The spire (406 feet) is the loftiest in England. excellent chapter of eighteen pages on "Gothic Architecture in Great Britain," with many illustrations, a bibliography, and a detailed list of monuments of the different Gothic styles, chiefly ecclesiastical. Fergusson's "History of Architecture in all Countries" (2 vols., $7.50; Dodd, Mead & Co.) contains a handsomely illustrated chapter of eighty pages on Ecclesiastical Architecture in England, which is particularly valuable for the study of vaulting, window-tracery, and canopied tombs. Fletcher's History (Scribners, $4.50) is a comparative view of the historical styles of all periods; it has a chapter of thirty pages on Norman and Gothic Architecture, which contains some excellent matter not found elsewhere for the student of cathedrals. CLERESTORY WINDOW IN THE FORM It contains forty well-digested and admirably arranged pages of text descriptive of the various styles of cathedral architecture, and nineteen pages of fullpage illustrations of cathedral exteriors and interiors. Both literary and pictorial matter are crystal-clear and delightful. A scale of feet which accompanies the illustrations enables the reader to obtain an exact idea of the dimensions of the various cathedrals. As a work of reference for busy readers, and within its limits, this volume leaves little to be desired. It should be stated, however, that, instead of the usual classification of the Gothic as Early English, Decorated, and Perpendicular, Mr. Sharpe prefers the less popular though probably more exact separation into seven periods-Saxon, Norman, Transitional, Lancet, Geometrical, Curvilinear, and Rectilinear. A tiny book of about eighty pages, called "The Stepping-Stone to Architecture," by Thomas Mitchell, contains questions and answers about architecture in general, including a good proportion on English Norman and Gothic, and is useful for young students. Mention should also be made of a "Concise Glossary of Architecture" (imported, $3), by the author of the "Introduction" and the "A B C," which is fully illustrated, well edited and printed, and uniform in size and price with the "Introduction." In all general works on architecture and in reputable cyclopædias are to be found chapters relating to the Norman and to the English Gothic, which are, of course, useful. In the recently published and beautiful volume of Professor Hamlin (Longmans, Green & Co., $2) there is an The advantage of thorough acquaintance with the important terms used in ecclesiastical architecture can hardly be overestimated. When these are well established in the mind, let the student draw for himself the plan of a Gothic cathedral or Norman cathedral in its most elaborate form, surrounded by monastic buildings, indicating the position of nave, aisle, and transepts, lady chapel, triforium, clerestory, choir, cloisters, chapter-house, refectory, hospitium, and kitchen (according to the old plan of the ninth century, found at St. Gall and pretty generally followed in all succeeding years), as laid down in Professor Smith's Art Handbook. Compare this plan with printed plans of Canterbury, Durham, Salisbury, Westminster, Gloucester, Peterborough, and as many others as possible, carefully noting and writing down points of difference and of resemblance. This careful view will fix the main features of a cathedral well in mind, and will add more to one's pleasure in visiting the grand ecclesiastical structures of the Old World than one can easily realize beforehand. It enables the student to feel at home in each cathedral. He will wish to study details, and will not scorn the services of a verger, but he will have an intelligent idea of what he has seen. Another excellent exercise for strengthening the memory in regard to architectural details consists in studying a number of illustrated cathedral books and in naming to one's self the various details learned from the "Introduction." Moldings, sculpture, tracery, vaulted ceilings, T pillars, and capitals may be satisfactorily studied from illustrations; and the student will soon become so familiar with the leading characteristics of the more prominent cathedrals that he need not fear to discuss them even with an experienced traveler in foreign lands. Her Neighbors' Landmark By Annie Eliot HE sun had not quite disappeared behind the horizon, though the days no longer extended themselves into the long, murmurous twilight of summer; instead, the evening fell with a certain definiteness, precursor of the still later year. On the step of the door that led directly into the living-room of his rambling house sat Reuben Granger, an old man, bent with laborious seasons, and not untouched by rheumatism. The wrinkles on his face were many and curiously intertwined; his weather-beaten straw hat seemed to supply any festal deficiency indicated by the shirt-sleeves; and his dim eyes blinked with shrewdness upon the dusty road, along which, at intervals, a belated wagon passed, clattering. His days of usefulness were not over, but he had reached the age when one is willing to spend more time looking on. He had always been tired at this hour of the day, but it was only of late that fatigue had had a certain numbing effect, which disinclined him to think of the tasks of tomorrow. He came to this period of repose rather earlier nowadays, and after less sturdy labor-somehow, a great deal of the sturdy labor got itself done without him; and there was an acquiescence in even this dispensation perceptible in the fall of his knotted hands and the tranquil gaze of his faded eyes. About a dozen yards beyond him, on the doorstep leading directly into the living-room of a house which joined the other, midway between two windows (the union marked by a third doorway unused and boarded up, around whose stone was the growth of decades), sat Stephen Granger. His weather-beaten straw hat shaded eyes dim also, but still keen; and a net work of curious wrinkles wande.ed over his tanned and sun-dried skin. Upon his features, too, dwelt that look of patient tolerance that is not indifference, that only the "wise years" can bring; and on his face as well as his brother's certain lines about the puckered mouth went far to contradict it. If one saw only one of the old men, there was nothing grim in the spectacle-that of a weary farmer looking out upon the highroad from the shelter of his own doorway; but the sight of them both together took on suddenly a forbidding air, a suggestion of sullenness, of dogged resolution; they were so precisely a'ike, and they sat so near one another on thresholds of the same long, low building, and they seemed so unconscious, the one of the other. It was impossible not to believe the unconsciousness willful and deliberate. A heavily-freighted and loose-jointed wagon rattled noisily but slowly along the road. "Howaryer?" called out one of its occupants. "'Are yer," returned Stephen Granger. Reuben had opened his mouth to speak, but closed it in silence while he gazed straight before him, unseeing, apparently, and unheeding. The leisurely driver checked his horse, which responded instantly to the welcome indication. Behind him in the wagon two calves looked somewhat perplexedly forth, their mild eyes, with but slightly accentuated curiosity, surveying the Grangers and the landscape from the durance of the cart. "Been tradin'?" asked Stephen. 'Wal, yes, I have," answered the other, with that lingering intonation that seems to modify even the most unconditional assent. "Got a good bargain?" "Wal, so-so.' "Many folks down to the store this evenin'?" "Wal, considerable." "Ain't any news?" "Not any as I know on." Stephen nodded his acceptance of this state of things. The other nodded, too. There was a pause. "G'long," said the trader, as if he would have said it before if he had thought of it. But the horse had taken but a few steps when another voice greeted him. 66 Howaryer, Monroe?" said Reuben Granger. 'Whoa," said Monroe. "Howaryer?" "Been down to the Center?" asked Reuben. "Yare." "Got some calves in there, I see." "Wal, yes; been doin' some tradin'." Reuben nodded. "Ain't any news, I take it ?" "None in partickler." Another exchange of nods followed. "G'long," said Monroe, after a short silence, during which the calves looked more bored than usual. But the shaky wheels had made but a few revolutions before the owner of the wagon reined in again. "Say," he called back, twisting himself around and resting his hand on the bar that confined the calves. "They've took down the shed back of the meetin'house. Said 'twas fallin' to pieces. Might 'a' come down on the heads of the hosses. Goin' to put up a new one.' Then, as his steed recommenced its modest substitute for a trot, unseen of the Grangers he permitted himself an undemonstrative chuckle. "They can sorter divide that piece of news between 'em," he said to his companion, who had been the silent auditor of the conversation. A moment of indecision on the part of the Grangers had given him time to make this observation, but it was not concluded when Reuben's cracked voice sang out cheerfully, "Ye don't say !" A slight contraction passed over Stephen's face. Much as he would have liked to mark the bit of information for his own, now that it had been appropriated by another, he gave no further sign. The noise of the wagon died along the road, and still Reuben and Stephen Granger sat gazing straight before them at the hill which faced them from the other side of the way, at the foot of which the darkness was falling fast. By and by a lamp was lighted in one half of the house, and a moment later there was a flash through the window of the other, and slowly and stiffly the two old men rose and went inside, each closing his door behind him. "Them's the Granger twins," had said the owner of the calves in answer to his companion's question as soon as they were out of hearing. "Yes, they be sort of odd. Don't have nothin' to say to one another, and they've lived next door to each other ever since they haven't lived with each other. It's goin' on thirty years since they've spoke. Yes, they do look alike I don't see no partickler difference myself, and it would make it kinder awk'ard if they expected folks to know which one he's talkin' to. But they don't. They're kinder sensible about that. They're real sensible 'bout some things," he added, tolerantly. "Oh, they was powerful fond of each other at first twins, y' know. They was always together, and when each of 'em set up housekeepin', nothin' would do for it but they should jine their houses and live side by side they knew enough not to live together, seein' as how, though they was twins, their wives wasn't. So they took and added on to the old homestead, and each of 'em took an end. Wal, I dunno how it began-no, it wasn't their wives-it don't seem hardly human natur, but it wasn't their wives." The speaker sighed a little. He was commonly supposed to have gained more experience than felicity through matrimony. "I've heard it said that it was hoss-reddish that begun it. You see, they used to eat together, and Stephen he used to like a little hossreddish along with his victuals in the spring, and Reuben, he said 'twas a pizen weed. But there you can never tell; they're both of 'em just as sot as-as erysipelas; and when that's so, somethin' or other is sure to come. I know for a fact that Reuben always wanted a taste of molasses in his beans, and Stephen couldn't abide anythin' but vinegar. So, bymeby, they took to havin' their meals separate. You know it ain't in human natur to see other folks puttin' things in their mouths |