he tones of
their giant though melodious voices, as, sent from a thousand brazen
throats, they roll through the vaulted space the dirge of their
approaching fate, will fill him with sadness; and the ray that streams
upon him from each crimson and blue _rosace_ will fix itself on his
memory, kindling around it an inextinguishable warmth, as though he had
witnessed the smile of a departing saint.

I had read of Toledo being in possession of the finest church in
Spain,--and _that_ in the book of a tourist, whose visit to this town
follows immediately that to Seville. Begging pardon of the clever and
entertaining writer to whom I allude, the Cathedral of Toledo strikes me
as far from being the finest in Spain; nor would it be the finest in
France, nor in England, nor in other countries that might be enumerated,
could it be transported to either. It is large; but in this respect it
yields to that of Seville. What its other claims to pre-eminence may be,
it is difficult to discover. It is true that its interior presents a
specimen of the simple and grand pointed style of its period. This being
put in execution on a large scale, would render it an imposing and a
beautiful edifice, but for a subsequent addition, which, to render
justice to the architect, he certainly never could have contemplated.
The noble pillars, towering to a height of sixty feet, have been
clothed, together with their capitals, in a magnificent coat of
whitewash! Without having witnessed such a desecration in this or some
similar edifice, it is impossible to conceive the deadening effect it
produces on the feeling of admiration such a building ought to excite.
An inscription in distinct and large characters, over the southernmost
of the three western doors, after recording the conquest of Granada by
the Catholic Kings, as Ferdinand and Isabella are here termed, the
expulsion of the Jews, and the completion of the Cathedral, brands with
this act of barbarism one Don Francisco Fernandez de Cuenca, _obrero
mayor_ (almost a Dean) of the Cathedral in the year 1493.

There is, however, a moment of each day when the tall arcades vindicate
their outraged majesty. "La nuit tous les chats sont gris," says the
proverb. I therefore proceeded at the approach of twilight (all access
at a later hour being prohibited) to see whether its application would
extend to this church. This is, in fact, the hour, just before the
closing of the doors, at which it should be visited