MELLOW ENGLAND. 179 



muscles, followed by a sense of physical weakness, 

 and after half an hour or so I felt compelled to go 

 out into the open air, and leave till another day the 

 final survey of the building. Next day I came back, 

 but there can be only one first time, and I could not 

 again surprise myself with the same feeling of won- 

 der and intoxication. But St. Paul's will bear many 

 visits. I came again and again, and never grew tired 

 of it. Crossing its threshold was entering another 

 world, where the silence and solitude were so pro- 

 found and overpowering, that the noise of the streets 

 outside, or of the stream of visitors, or of the work- 

 men engaged on the statuary, made no impression. 

 They were all belittled, lost, like the humming of 

 flies. Even the afternoon services, the chanting, and 

 the tremendous organ, were no interruption, and left 

 me just as much alone as ever. They only served to 

 set off the silence, to fathom its depth. 



The dome of St. Paul's is the original of our dome 

 at Washington ; but externally I think ours is the 

 more graceful of the two, though the effect inside is 

 tame and flat in comparison. This is owing partly to 

 the lesser size and height, and partly to our hard, 

 transparent atmosphere, which lends no charm or il- 

 lusion, but mainly to the stupid, unimaginative plan 

 of it. Our dome shuts down like an inverted iron 

 pot ; there is no vista, no outlook, no relation, and 

 hence no proportion. You open a door and are in a 

 circular pen, and can look in only one direction 

 up. If the iron pot were slashed through here and 



