vour; indeed, the profoundly learned
trace the practice back to the days when Thor was worshipped in the
gloomy forests of Central Europe. The church chosen by the butchers for
their special ritualistic function was that dedicated to St. James, son
of Zebedee. This church was originally one of the oldest in Prague; it
stands in that close-packed quarter of the Old Town, near Our Lady of
Tyn. The present edifice shows no traces of its earliest aspect when
founded by the Order of Minorities in 1232; it has been damaged and
restored until its present appearance was evolved, but it seems to have
been loyally patronized by the Old Town butchers, whose bravery, we
know, did much towards safeguarding the city both during the Hussite
troubles and against the Swedes. Stout fellows, those old butchers of
Prague; their holiday diversion, observed each 25th of July, was to
dress up a goat, to carry it to the top of St. James's church-tower and
throw it over into the street with "music and song," in which the goat
probably joined until he arrived on the pavement below. Strenuous
enjoyment on a hot summer's day, I should say, having been in personal
contact with a goat myself on occasion, but I really cannot see where
the fun comes in. By the aid of a map you may discern the church-tower
of St. James's, but you will no longer see the goat hurtling through
space. One by one these dear old customs are dying out. Nevertheless,
our Pragers still enjoy life, more than ever I should say, contrasting
the city of to-day with that of some ten years ago. I have touched on
some of the forms of amusement and recreation you may indulge in; you
will also find a pleasant social life developing among the cheery and
hospitable Pragers. And there is always the river, which among its many
reflections, by the way, also includes those of a very modern and rather
German-looking building which stands somewhat by itself among
disconnected groups of old and new buildings, near that quaint old house
by the Jewish Cemetery. The building I refer to is called the
Rudolfinum, after one of the unhappiest of all the Habsburgs, and served
originally as an academy of music. It still fills up with sound from
time to time, though not necessarily with harmony; it is the Parliament
of the Republic of Czecho-Slovakia.

The present tendency in Prague is to erect handsome modern buildings all
along the right bank of the river: Government offices, Ministries
chiefly, will oc