IT cannot with truth be said that monumental history is treated in our day with scanty regard. Never, perhaps, were such permanent and forcible memorials of the past as the Arch of Titus in Rome, the Pont du Gard in the south of France, and the Porta Nigra of Trèves, visited and gazed upon with warmer interest or a deeper sense of their value. We all feel the power that is exerted over us by the ruins of great Castles and great Abbeys. And in another way is this strong feeling of our times very widely manifested. I refer to the restoration of Cathedrals and Churches—not only in our own country now for many years—but, more recently, in France. This restorative work may not always have been conducted with faultless taste or perfect judgment, but (to say nothing of religious motives) it testifies to a high appreciation of the importance of history written in stone.