not unlike
that of St. Denis.

The next Gothic church, in size and importance, is that of St. GERVAIS--
situated to the left, in the Rue de Monceau. It has a very lofty nave, but
the interior is exceedingly flat and divested of ornament. The pillars have
scarcely any capitals. The choir is totally destitute of effect. Some of
the stained glass is rich and old, but a great deal has been stolen or
demolished during the Revolution. There is a good large modern picture, in
one of the side chapels to the right: and yet a more modern one, much
inferior, on the opposite side. In almost every side chapel, and in the
confessionals, the priests were busily engaged in the catechetical
examination of young people previous to the first Communion on the
following sabbath, which was the Fete-Dieu. The western front is wholly
Grecian--perhaps about two hundred years old. It is too lofty for its
width--but has a grand effect, and is justly much celebrated. Yet the
_situation_ of this fine old Gothic church is among the most wretched of
those in Paris. It is preserved from suffocation, only by holding it head
so high. Next in importance to St. Gervais, is the Gothic church of St.
EUSTACHE: a perfect specimen, throughout, of that adulterated style of
Gothic architecture (called its _restoration!_) which prevailed at the
commencement of the reign of Francis I. Faulty, and even meretricious, as
is the whole of the interior, the choir will not fail to strike you with
surprise and gratification. It is light, rich, and lofty. This church is
very large, but not so capacious as St. Gervais--while situation is, if
possible, still more objectionable.

Let me not forget my two old favourite churches of ST. GERMAIN DES PRES,
_and St. Genevieve_; although of the latter I hardly know whether a hasty
glimpse, both of the exterior and interior, be not sufficient; the greater
part having been destroyed during the Revolution.[8] The immediate vicinity
of the former is sadly choaked by stalls and shops--and the west-front has
been cruelly covered by modern appendages. It is the church dearest to
antiquaries; and with reason.[9] I first visited it on a Sunday, when that
part of the Service was performed which required the fullest intonations of
the organ. The effect altogether was very striking. The singular pillars--
of which the capitals are equally massive and grotesque, being sometimes
composed of human beings, and sometimes of birds and beasts, especia