As I was almost shillingless, Mr. ------ now
offered to cash it for me. He is very kind and good. . . . . Arriving at
his shop again, he went out to procure the money, and soon returned with
it. At my departure he gave me a copy of a new poem of his, entitled
"Verdicts," somewhat in the manner of Lowell's satire. . . . . Mr. ------
resides now at Greenwich, whither he hoped I would come and see him on my
return to London. Perhaps I will, for I like him. It seems strange to
see an Englishman with so little physical ponderosity and obtuseness of
nerve.
After parting from him, it being three o'clock or thereabouts, I resumed
my wanderings about the city, of which I never weary as long as I can put
one foot before the other.
Seeing that the door of St. Paul's, under one of the semicircular
porches, was partially open, I went in, and found that the afternoon
service was about to be performed; so I remained to hear it, and to see
what I could of the cathedral. What a total and admirable contrast
between this and a Gothic church! the latter so dim and mysterious, with
its various aisles, its intricacy of pointed arches, its dark walls and
columns and pavement, and its painted glass windows, bedimming even what
daylight might otherwise get into its eternal evening. But this
cathedral was full of light, and light was proper to it. There were no
painted windows, no dim recesses, but a wide and airy space beneath the
dome; and even through the long perspective of the nave there was no
obscurity, but one lofty and beautifully rounded arch succeeding to
another, as far as the eye could reach.
Pages:
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331