declined the bargain, and the building passed from the hammer of the auctioneer to that of the house-breaker.  Stripped of all that was saleable, the shell passed into the possession of one Edmund Colthurst, who made a present of it to the town.  For forty years it remained practically a heap of ruins.  Episcopal attention was again drawn to its unseemliness, not this time by ascending angels, but by the more prosaic instrumentality of a descending shower.  Bishop Montague, seeking shelter one day within its roofless aisles from a passing thunderstorm, was moved by the discomfort of the situation to undertake the completion of the fabric.  He finished the work in 1609, but on somewhat economical lines.  He vaulted the roof with plaster, and it has been left to the modern restorer to make good his work in stone.  Externally the church is a cruciform building with a central tower, characterized by two tiers of double windows and spired octagonal turrets at the corners.  The tower is a rectangle, the N. and S. sides being shorter than the E. and W., and the transepts are correspondingly narrow.  Though somewhat stiff and formal, the general design derives a certain impressiveness from the lofty clerestory, the immense display of windows, and a profusion of flying buttresses.  The fantastic reproduction of Jacob’s Ladder, with its beetle-like angels, on the W. front, should be carefully observed, and note should also be taken of the elaborately carved wooden door and the figures above and on either side (Henry VII. and SS.  Peter and Paul).  The two ladders are flanked by representations of the Apostles, whilst below the gable is the figure of our Lord, with adoring angels beneath.  The interior has something of the appearance of an ecclesiastical Crystal Palace—­one vast aggregate of pillars and glass.  The details are poor (note the absence of cusps in alternate windows of nave), and the fan tracery (original in choir only) is exuberant.  In some of the clerestory windows are fragments of old glass, and the very unusual feature of pierced spandrels to the E. window should be noted.  The one really beautiful thing in the interior is Prior Bird’s Chantry at the S.E. of the choir.  The delicate groining of the roof, the foliage, and the panelling will be generally admired.  Note the constant reiteration of the Prior’s relics, with mitre, though priors did not wear mitres.  There is an effigy of Bishop Montague under a staring canopy between the columns of the N. aisle.  In the sanctuary is the tomb of Bartholomew Barnes, and a brass to Sir George Ivey.  The oak screen across the S.E. aisle is in memory of a former rector (Rev. C. Kemble) who did much to restore the Abbey.  As a reminder of Bath’s once fashionable days, the walls of the aisles are covered with memorials of local celebrities; amongst them there is a tablet to Nash (S. wall near S. transept).  The tomb of Lady Waller in S. transept, and Garrick’s epitaph on Quin (N. aisle of choir) should perhaps also be noticed.  As Dr Harington’s sprightly epigram suggests, this portentous display of mortality is not an inspiring study for visitors who come to Bath to take “the cure,”