n the
historian, and Oliver Goldsmith, lie just outside the church. The
preacher of this church is called the master of the Temple, and the
great Hooker once held this post. Having gratified our curiosity by an
inspection of this gem of church architecture, we quitted the building,
and, after a pleasant stroll through the Temple Gardens,--a sweet spot,
and spoken of by Shakspeare as the place where the distinction of the
Red and White Roses was first seen,--embarked on one of the river
steamboats, which rapidly conveyed us to Blackfriars Bridge.

The finest view of St. Paul's Cathedral is, unquestionably, from the
Thames. When seen from the streets, only portions of its colossal
magnitude can be observed. On all sides it is hemmed in by houses,
which, pygmies though they be, prevent an uninterrupted view of the
architectural giant. But from the middle of the Thames, the cathedral is
seen in all its glory; towering above the surrounding marts of trade, it
stands out the grand point of attraction.

[Illustration: St. Paul's Cathedral.]

Here may be observed, to advantage, the surpassing beauty of the great
dome, which dwarfs the towers and steeples of the surrounding churches
almost into nothingness. The general aspect of the cathedral is said to
resemble St. Peter's, at Rome, but the symmetry of the dome of the
latter is acknowledged to be less beautiful than that of its London
rival.

We landed at Blackfriars Bridge Stairs; and, after ascending Ludgate
Hill, arrived at the great northern door of the cathedral. In reply to
the rap of our knuckles at the huge portals, it slowly swung back on its
hinges, and a grim, surly-looking face appeared. The figure which
belonged to the face was clad in a rusty and seedy black robe, from
beneath which a hand was thrust forth, and the words, "two-pence each,"
sounded harshly on our ears. Two-pence each was accordingly paid, and
then the surly janitor, or verger, as he is called, admitted us within
the building. In a moment afterwards, we were beneath the dome of St.
Paul's. If this part of the edifice has appeared imposing when viewed
from without, how much grander did it seem now that we stood on the
marble pavement below, and gazed upward into the vast concave which the
genius of Sir Christopher Wren had designed. The scene to my mind was
most impressive, and the impressiveness was heightened by a continuous
dull roar, which never ceased for a moment. This ceaseless noise was