s while coming over the
Atlantic, and there is no exaggeration; it is just such a sound, such
an ebbing and flowing, and yet such a full and constant roar, as the
waves make after continued high winds. It was truly sublime, this
concentrated sound of this living multitude of human beings, these
breathings and heavings of the heart of the mighty monster, London.

We were shown all over the cathedral; we first ascended to the inside
gallery, and walked around, looking down upon the whole interior; we
then visited the clock, and we heard and felt the quiver of its
tremendous voice. We next entered the famous whispering gallery, which
is made around the base of the dome inside. The faintest whisper is
heard at the point opposite that whence it comes. Then we went outside,
and walked some time around the dome, gazing about with great delight.
Then we ascended to the Golden Gallery, as it is called from the fact
that the balustrade is gilded. It runs around the top of the dome. From
here, you see London all spread out like a map before you,--its towers,
its spires, all its multitudinous abodes, lie beneath your eye. One
little thing remained. The ball was yet above us. The gentlemen of our
party went up various perpendicular ladders, and at last pulled
themselves through a small hole into the ball. There is room, I think,
there for a dozen people, if well packed, not to stand, walk, or sit,
however; these things the nature of the place forbids. It is a strange
feeling, they say, to crouch in this little apartment and hear the wind
roaring and shaking the golden cross above. The whole ball shakes
somewhat, and by a sudden movement one can produce quite a perceptible
motion.

We descended the infinity of stairs, and entered the crypt, as it is
called, under the church. There were many grand tombs there. Nelson's
occupies the centre, and is a fine work. But what impressed me most was
the tomb of Sir Christopher Wren himself; a simple tablet marks his
tomb, with this inscription, which is repeated above in the nave:--

Subtus conditur
Hujus Ecclesias et Urbis Conditor,
CHRISTOPHERUS WREN;
Qui vixit annos ultra nonaginta,
Non sibi, sed bono publico.
Lector, si monumentum requiris,
Circumspice.
Obiit 25 Feb. MDCCXXIII., aetat. XCI.

We subjoin a translation of this inscription for our young friends:--

"Underneath lies buried Christopher Wren, the builder of this church
and city; who lived beyond th