AN OCTOBER ABROAD 161 



tude, or an exhibition like the thanksgiving of the 

 Queen, when sixteen or eighteen thousand persons 

 ■were assembled beneath its roof. But one cannot 

 forget that it is, for the most part, a great toy, — a 

 mammoth shell, whose bigness bears no proportion 

 to the living (if, indeed, it is living), indwelling 

 necessity. It is a tenement so large that the tenant 

 looks cold and forlorn, and in danger of being lost 

 within it. 



No such objection can be made to Westminster 

 Abbey, which is a mellow, picturesque old place, 

 the interior arrangement and architecture of which 

 affects one like some ancient, dilapidated forest. 

 Even the sunlight streaming through the dim win- 

 dows, and falling athwart the misty air, was like 

 the sunlight of a long-gone age. The very atmos- 

 phere was pensive, and filled the tall spaces like a 

 memory and a dream. I sat down and listened to 

 the choral service and to the organ, which blended 

 perfectly with the spirit and sentiment of the place. 



ON THE SOUTH DOWNS 



One of my best days in England was spent amid 

 the singing of skylarks on the South Down Hills, 

 near an old town at the mouth of the Little Ouse, 

 where I paused on my way to France. The pros- 

 pect of hearing one or two of the classical birds of 

 the Old World had not been the least of the attrac- 

 tions of my visit, though I knew the chances were 

 against me so late in the season, and I have to thank 

 my good genius for guiding me to the right place at 



