is of great antiquity. The coronation bracelets, the royal spurs, the anointing spoon, the saltcellar of State, the sacramental plate, tankards, banqueting dish, and other dishes and spoons, are all of gold. The baptismal font, and a wine fountain, are of silver. All these dazzling objects are surmounted by the new State crown made for her present majesty, which is extremely gorgeous. It is estimated that these regal ornaments are worth fifteen millions of dollars.

I was greatly interested by my visit to St. Paul's. Much as I had been led to expect from this prodigious structure, it far exceeded my highest anticipations. But it beggars all description. Surely, if angelic beings would deign to worship in buildings of human construction, this edifice, with its lofty dome, would be a fitting place.

On the ground floor round the cathedral is ranged a series of monuments to the great and brave of the mighty dead who have graced the annals of British history. Most of them are exquisite in design, and no less so in execution, and are well worthy of those whom they commemorate. Immense sums have been expended in this way by the British government, many of these

monuments having cost upward of thirty thousand dollars each. I ascended to the whispering gallery, just below the dome, where a whisper on one side is heard at the other, though the distance is one hundred and thirty feet. The dome is composed of a double concave, one within the other, the inner one being open at the top, so that the painting on the ceiling of the outer one is seen from below. Ascending to the top of the first or interior dome, I looked over into the immense area below. The whispering gallery from this point appeared a vast way down, while the people on the floor dwindled away to mere children. From here I ascended to the ball, and thence into the brass cross on the pinnacle. The ascent to this is somewhat difficult, there being no stair, and the passage so narrow that a stout man would scarcely be able to get through, and but one person can go up at a time.

At this point I was far above the spires of the highest steeples, and the day being clear, the panoramic view of London was magnificent, and well repaid the labor of ascent. The houses below became nursery toys, and the pedestrians pigmies—the Thames a brook, and the vessels in it mere mimic ships. Though the view from this great height embraced an area of many miles, yet so great is the magnitude of London, that as far as the eye could reach extended one vast sea of roofs and chimneys, sprinkled here and there with spires and steeples. After enjoying for some time the magnificent view that lay before me, I began to descend, and though usually considered a rapid pedestrian, it took me nearly ten minutes to reach the floor. I should think the distance, by the winding stairs, must be a quarter of a mile. After viewing the main building, I was taken into the vaults below, where lie the mortal remains of Lord Nelson, Lord Collingwood, and many others. As I followed the guide beneath the ponderous arches, (the abutments of some of which are upwards of twenty feet in diameter, and of solid stone,) with the monuments of death around me, where all was dark as midnight and still as the grave, as the light flickered dimly from his dirty lantern, I could almost imagine myself in Popish clutches, about to be led before a bloodthirsty inquisitor, from whom I could expect no mercy, and hope for no rescue.

The first stone of this lofty edifice was laid in 1675, and the last one in 1710. Sir Christopher


Wren, the architect, received but $1000 per annum for his salary, out of which he had to pay for the models and drawings he required. He was buried within its walls, and the following is his epitaph: “Beneath lies Sir Christopher Wren, the builder of this church ; for his monument

It was begun and completed under one architect, by one master mason, and while one bishop presided over the diocese. The entire length of the cathedral is 510 feet, the breadth 220. From the pavement in the street to the top of the cross on the dome is 404 feet. The whole expense of its erection was $7,500,000. It covers two acres and sixteen perches of ground, and there are 616 steps from the floor to the ball.

If St. Paul's astonished me by its vast magnitude, Westminster Abbey impressed me still more by its solemn grandeur, its air of reverend antiquity, and the associations by which it is hallowed. For centuries it has been the burial-place of English royalty, and around its walls are monuments to more great men than any other country ever produced. Here are the names which have originated English literature—which have shed the halo of glory that surrounds British valor-her kings, her soldiers, her poets, her statesmen, her divines, her philanthropists—all are remembered. Many of them, from whom malice or envy withheld the meed of justice while living, have here, on these monumental stones, for the first time received it. This Abbey was built by Henry III. and his successor, Edward I. Owing to the efforts made at various times, especially of late, to restore after the old pattern all that is defaced, it is in a remarkably perfect state of preservation. The main body of the Abbey forms a magnificent walk of great length, while over the pedestrian hangs one of the most magnificent and lofty arches which human genius ever contrived, all carved in the most elaborate and exquisite manner. The main body of the building is open to all who wish to enter, during certain hours. The private chapels are shown on paying sixpence, and a Verger, as he is called, conducts visitors through them, describing the nature of the monuments, and whom they commemorate. The chapel of Henry VII. is very beautiful—the roof is of most richly carved stone. In the south aisle of this chapel, in the royal vault, are deposited the remains of Charles II., William III., Queen Mary, and Queen Anne. In

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