Their stone arches are frequently turned with a grace as fine as any in St.Paul's, and their balustrades and butments often approach the domain of sculpture.
Crossing the Nen, I followed it for several miles in a northerly direction.

I soon came to a rather low, level section of the road, and noticed stones placed at the side of it, at narrow intervals, for a long distance to the very foot of a village situated on a rising ground.

These stones were evidently taken from some ancient edifice, for many of them bore the marks of the old cathedral or castle chisel.

They were the foot-tracks of a ruined monument of dark and painful history.

More than this might be said of them.
They were the blood-drops of a monstrosity chased from its den and hunted down by the people, who shuddered with horror at its sanguinary record of violence and wrong.