round arched arcade, has been added on at
the corner, and the effect is odd and yet pleasing. Behind rises a
grim crag of a cathedral--solemn and mysterious--adding to the effect
of this imposing combination, a sort of gloomy shadow overhanging all.
The church, on entering, is found overpowering and original of its
kind, with its vast arches and massive roof of groined stone. Truly an
astonishing monument! The worst of such visits is that only a faint
impression is left: and to gather the full import of such a monument
one should stay for a few days at least, and grow familiar with it. At
first all is strange. Every portion claims attention at once; but
after a few visits the grim old monument seems to relax and become
accessible; he lets you see his good points and treasures by degrees.
But who could live in a Dead City, even for a day? Having seen these
two wonders, I tried to explore the place, which took some walking,
but nothing else was to be found. Its streets were wide, the houses
handsome--a few necessary shops; but no cabs--no tramway--no carts
even, and hardly any people. It was dead--all dead from end to end.
The strangest sign of mortality, however, was that not a single
restaurant or house of refection was to be found, not even on the
spacious and justly called _Grande Place_! One might have starved or
famished without relief. Nay, there was hardly a public-house or
drinking-shop.

[Illustration: YPRES]

However, the great monument itself more than supplied this absence of
vitality. One could never be weary of surveying its overpowering
proportions, its nobility, its unshaken strength, its vast length, and
flourishing air. Yet how curious to think that it was now quite
purposeless, had no meaning or use! Over four hundred feet long, it
was once the seat of bustle and thriving business, for which the
building itself was not too large. The hall on the ground seems to
stretch from end to end. Here was the great mart for linens--the
_toiles flamandes_--once celebrated over Europe. Now, desolate is the
dwelling of Morna! A few little local offices transact the stunted
shrunken local business of the place; the post, the municipal offices,
each filling up two or three of the arches, in ludicrous contrast to
the unemployed vastness of the rest. It has been fancifully supposed
that the name Diaper, as applied to linens, was supplied by this town,
which was the seat of the trade, and _Toile d'Ypres_ might be
supp