What I do weep for
is, that under the flag of my country--and that country a Christian
one--such a life as Mary's could have been lived, and so little said
or done about it.
In the afternoon I went to the deanery of St. Paul's--a retired
building in a deep court opposite the cathedral. After a brief
conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Milman, we went to the cathedral. I had
never seen it before, and was much impressed with the majesty and
grace of the interior. Nevertheless, the Italian style of
architecture, with all its elegance, fails to affect me equally with
the Gothic. The very rudeness of the latter, a something inchoate and
unfinished, is significant of matter struggling with religious ideas
too vast to be fully expressed. Even as in the ancient Scriptures
there are ideas which seem to overtask the powers of human language. I
sat down with Mrs. M. in one of the little compartments, or
_stalls,_ as they are called, into which the galleries are
divided, and which are richly carved in black oak. The whole service
was chanted by a choir expressly trained for the purpose. Some of the
performers are boys of about thirteen years, and of beautiful
countenances.
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