I now ascended; and by the help of a chair, took a peep at the ceremony through the intercolumniations of the choir:  my diffidence, or rather apprehension of refusal, having withheld me from striving to gain admittance within the body.  But my situation was a singularly good one:  opposite the altar.  I looked, and beheld this vast clerical congregation at times kneeling, or standing, or sitting:  partially, or wholly:  while the swell of their voices, accompanied by the full intonations of the organ, and the yet more penetrating notes of the serpent, seemed to breathe more than earthly solemnity around.  The ceremony had now continued full two hours; when, in the midst of the most impressive part of it, and while the young candidates for ordination were prostrate before the high altar (the diapason stop of the organ, as at Dieppe,[137] sending forth the softest notes) the venerable Bishop placed the glittering mitre (apparently covered with gold gauze) upon his head, and with a large gilt crosier in his right hand, descended, with a measured and majestic step, from the floor of the altar, and proceeded to the execution of the more mysterious part of his office.  The candidates, with closed eyes, and outstretched hands, were touched with the holy oil—­and thus became consecrated.  On rising, each received a small piece of bread between the thumb and forefinger, and the middle and third fingers; their hands being pressed together—­and, still with closed eyes, they retired behind the high altar, where an officiating priest made use of the bread to rub off the holy oil.  The Bishop is an elderly man, about three score and ten; he has the usual sallow tint of his countrymen, but his eye, somewhat sunk or retired, beneath black and overhanging eyebrows, is sharp and expressive.  His whole mien has the indication of a well-bred and well-educated gentleman.  When he descended with his full robes, crosier, and mitre, from the high altar, me-thought I saw some of the venerable forms of our WYKEHAMS and WAYNEFLETES of old—­commanding the respect, and receiving the homage, of a grateful congregation!  At the very moment my mind was deeply occupied by the effects produced from this magnificent spectacle, I strolled into Our Lady’s Chapel, behind the choir, and beheld a sight which converted seriousness into surprise—­bordering upon mirth.  Above the altar of this remotely situated chapel, stands the IMAGE OF THE VIRGIN with the infant Jesus in her arms.  This is the usual chief ornament of Our Lady’s Chapel.  But what drapery for the mother of the sacred child!—­stiff, starch, rectangularly-folded, white muslin, stuck about with diverse artificial flowers—­like unto a shew figure in Brook Green Fair!  This ridiculous and most disgusting costume began more particularly at Caudebec.  Why is it persevered in?  Why is it endured?  The French have a quick sensibility, and a lively apprehension of what is beautiful and brilliant in the arts of sculpture and painting ...