1829.] Sneezing, Predestination, and St. Margaret's Church. 391 



stone haycock and all, between you and a vision of ancient Rome ; like 

 a penny whistle accompaniment to Sontajr. 



: Do you I'emember Sebastiano Del Piombo's gi-and picture of the raising 

 of Lazarus, in the Angerstein Gallery ? (one is ashamed to call it the 

 'National.) Well, how would you like to have accurate likenesses of IMr. 

 Deputy Figg, and Mrs. Deputy Figg, and two or three of the little 

 Figgs, painted over the figures in the foreground, and middle ? over the 

 faith-sti'uck old man ; over the dark shaded face of Lazarus, stamped 

 with the awful secrets of the grave, even while struggling back to life ; 

 over the majestic Saviour in the midst ; leaving you, at the same time, 

 as a fitting and harmonious back-ground, the Temple of Jerusalem, and 

 the Hill of Zion, together with a group of Pharisees, not to speak of 

 Alary, Martha, and John, peeping over the shoulders of the aforesaid 

 Mr. Deputy, JVIrs. Deputy, and the little Deputies .'' 



Not that the thing in question, called after St. IVIargaret, would not 

 do very well for people to pray in, down in some country nook, where 

 the natives wear long blue coats, with plated buttons the size of a saucer, 

 scarlet waistcoats, and hob-nailed shoes ; nay, in such a locale, I doubt 

 not it would be looked upon as a splendid edifice, a second St. Peter's; 

 but only conceive such an aggregation of stone and mortar in West- 

 minster ! in front of Westminster Abbey ; under the very eye of " the 

 Wisdom," which cannot chuse but see it, without the help of spectacles, 

 every time it waddles down to its nest at St. Stephen's, to hatch plans for 

 the good of the present generation and the edification of the next. — I 

 ■wish the powers that be would lend me Martin for a night. 



Talking of views, the finest in London is from the top of Whitehall 

 Place, looking towards the river; but then you must see it as I did, at 

 the same hour, and under similar circumstances. 



It is about a fortnight since I beheld that memorable spectacle. I 

 was on my way home, having dined with a friend, who, though not an 

 habitual votary of Bacchus, occasionally sacrifices to the god with 

 intense and absorbing zeal. After dinner we adjourned to the Opera, 

 having inly determined to renew at supper our intimacy with certain 

 flasks of Champagne, which lay in their icy baths coolly expecting our 

 return. We carried our determination into effect to the fullest extent ; 

 and at half past three o'clock we parted, deeply impressed with a sense 

 of each other's good qualities, and with- as keen and lively an appetite for 

 the sublime and beautiful as an X of Champagne* usually imparts to 

 its warm-hearted admirers. My way led me through Whitehall, at 

 least I found myself there, as " Charles," the guardian of the night, was 

 announcing the fourth hour. As my good fortune would have it, I hap- 

 pened to look towards the river, and never, while memory holds her 

 seat, shall I forget the sight which presented itself. Six distinct St. 

 Pauls lifted themselves through the cloudless morning air (so pure, that 

 the smoke of a single cigar would defile it : I extinguished mine in awe) 

 towards the blue transparent sky ; nearer, and beneath this stately 

 city of temples; were four Waterloo Bridges, piling their long arcades 

 in graceful and harmonious regularity one above the other, with the 

 chaste and lofty symmetry of a mighty aqueduct ; while far away, in the 

 dim distance, a dome of gigantic dimensions was faintly visible, as if 

 presiding over the scene, linking shadow and substance, uniting the 



* Reader W'hat dots he mean by an X of Champagne ? 



Editor — An unknown quantity, you fool. 



