earful to a
woman, to see the place where he wrote the dictionary. The house is so
completely within a court, in which nothing but brick walls could be
seen, that one wonders what the charm of London could be, to induce one
to live in that place. But a great city always draws to itself the great
minds, and there Johnson probably found his enjoyment.

"August 27. We took St. Paul's Church to-day. We took tickets for the
vaults, the bell, the crypt, the whispering-gallery, the clock and all.
We did not know what was before us. It was a little tiresome as far as
the library and the room of Nelson's trophies, but to my surprise, when
the guide said, 'Go that way for the clock,' he did not take the lead,
but pointed up a staircase, and I found myself the pioneer in the
narrowest and darkest staircase I ever ascended. It was really perfect
darkness in some of the places, and we had to feel our way. We all took
a long breath when a gleam of light came in at some narrow windows
scattered along. At the top, in front of the clock works, stood a woman,
who began at once to tell us the statistics of the pendulum, to which
recital I did not choose to listen. She was not to go down with us, and,
panting with fatigue and trembling with fright, we groped our way down
again.

"There was another long, but easy, ascent to the 'whispering-gallery,'
which is a fine place from which to look down upon the interior of the
church. The man in attendance looked like a respectable elderly
gentleman. He told us to go to the opposite side of the gallery, and he
would whisper to us. We went around, and, worn out with fatigue, dropped
upon a bench.

"The man began to whisper, putting his mouth to an opening in the wall;
we heard noises, but could not tell what he said.

"To my amazement, this very respectable-looking elderly gentleman, as we
passed him in going out, whispered again, and as this time he put his
mouth close to my ear, I understood! He said, 'If you will give anything
for the whisper, it will be gratefully received.' There are notices all
over the church forbidding fees, and I felt that the man was a beggar at
best--more properly a pickpocket.

"A figure of Dr. Johnson stands in one of the aisles of the church. It
must be like him, for it is exceedingly ugly.

"September 3. We have been three weeks in London 'out of season,' but
with plenty of letters. At present we have as many acquaintances as we
desire. Last night we were at th