scarcely a vacant niche left in all this mighty hall, so many are the
statues that meet one on every side. With the exceptions of John Howard,
Sir Astley Cooper and Wren, whose monument is the church itself, they
are all to military men. I thought if they had all been removed except
Howard's, it would better have suited such a temple, and the great soul
it commemorated.

I never was more impressed with the grandeur of human invention, than
when ascending the dome. I could with difficulty conceive the means by
which such a mighty edifice had been lifted into the air. That small
frame of Sir Christopher Wren must have contained a mind capable of vast
conceptions. The dome is like the summit of a mountain; so wide is the
prospect, and so great the pile upon which you stand. London lay beneath
us, like an ant-hill, with the black insects swarming to and fro in
their long avenues, the sound of their employments coming up like the
roar of the sea. A cloud of coal-smoke hung over it, through which many
a pointed spire was thrust up; sometimes the wind would blow it aside
for a moment, and the thousands of red roofs would shine out clearer.
The bridged Thames, covered with craft of all sizes, wound beneath us
like a ringed and spotted serpent. The scene was like an immense
circular picture in the blue frame of the hills around.

Continuing our way up Fleet street, which, notwithstanding the gaiety of
its shops and its constant bustle, has an antique appearance, we came to
the Temple Bar, the western boundary of the ancient city. In the inside
of the middle arch, the old gates are still standing. From this point we
entered the new portion of the city, which wore an air of increasing
splendor as we advanced. The appearance of the Strand and Trafalgar
Square is truly magnificent. Fancy every house in Broadway a store, all
built of light granite, the Park stripped of all its trees and paved