, being almost
detached--and on the south side of the building. Indeed the whole
structure has a very strange, and I may add capricious, if not
repulsive, appearance, as to its exterior. The western and eastern ends
have nothing deserving of distinct notice or commendation. The former
has a porch; which is called "the Giant's porch;" it should rather be
designated as that of the Dwarf. It has no pretensions to size or
striking character of any description. Some of the oldest parts of the
cathedral appear to belong to the porch of the eastern end. As you walk
round the church, you can not fail to be struck with the great variety
of ancient--and to an Englishman, whimsical looking mural monuments, in
basso and alto relievos. Some of these are doubtless both interesting
and curious.

But the spire is indeed an object deserving of particular admiration.
It is next to that of Strasburg in height; being 432 feet of Vienna
measurement. It may be said to begin to taper from the first stage or
floor; and is distinguished for its open and sometimes intricate
fretwork. About two-thirds of its height, just above the clock, and
where the more slender part of the spire commences, there is a gallery
or platform, to which the French quickly ascended, on their possession
of Vienna, to reconnoiter the surrounding country. The very summit of
the spire is bent, or inclined to the north; so much so, as to give the
notion that the cap or crown will fall in a short time.

As to the period of the erection of this spire, it is supposed to have
been about the middle, or latter end, of the fifteenth century. It has
certainly much in common with the highly ornamental Gothic style of
building in our own country, about the reign of Henry VI. The colored
glazed tiles of the roof of the church are very disagreeable and
unharmonizing. These colors are chiefly green, red, and blue. Indeed the
whole roof is exceedingly heavy and tasteless.

I will now conduct you to the interior. On entering, from the southeast
door, you observe, to the left, a small piece of white marble--which
every one touches, with the finger or thumb charged with holy water, on
entering or leaving the cathedral. Such have been the countless
thousands of times that this piece of marble has been so touched, that,
purely, from such friction, it has been worn nearly half an inch below
the general surrounding surface. I have great doubts, however, if this
mysterious piece of masonry b