e have seen.

The interior of S. Maria Novella is very fine and spacious, and
it gathers and preserves an exquisite light at all times of the
day. Nowhere in Florence is there a finer aisle, with the roof
springing so nobly and masterfully from the eight columns on either
side. The whole effect, like that of S. Croce, is rather northern,
the result of the yellow and brown hues; but whereas S. Croce has a
crushing flat roof, this one is all soaring gladness.

The finest view of the interior is from the altar steps looking back
to the beautiful circular window over the entrance, a mass of happy
colour. In the afternoon the little plain circular windows high up
in the aisle shoot shafts of golden light upon the yellow walls. The
high altar of inlaid marble is, I think, too bright and too large. The
church is more impressive on Good Friday, when over this altar is built
a Calvary with the crucifix on the summit and life-size mourners at its
foot; while a choir and string orchestra make superbly mournful music.

I like to think that it was within the older S. Maria Novella that
those seven mirthful young ladies of Florence remained one morning
in 1348, after Mass, to discuss plans of escape from the city during
the plague. As here they chatted and plotted, there entered the church
three young men; and what simpler than to engage them as companions in
their retreat, especially as all three, like all seven of the young
women, were accomplished tellers of stories with no fear whatever of
Mrs. Grundy? And thus the "Decameron" of Giovanni Boccaccio came about.

S. Maria Novella also resembles S. Croce in its moving groups of
sight-seers each in the hands of a guide. These one sees always and
hears always: so much so that a reminder has been printed and set up
here and there in this church, to the effect that it is primarily the
house of God and for worshippers. But S. Maria Novella has not a tithe
of S. Croce's treasures. Having almost no tombs of first importance,
it has to rely upon its interior beauty and upon its frescoes, and
its chief glory, whatever Mr. Ruskin, who hated them, might say, is,
for most people, Ghirlandaio's series of scenes in the life of the
Virgin and S. John the Baptist. These cover the walls of the choir
and for more than four centuries have given delight to Florentines
and foreigners. Such was the thoroughness of their painter in his
colour mixing (in which the boy Michelangelo assisted him) that,
a