What a sight! The whole central part of the cathedral was converted
into an amphitheatre, and the children with white caps, white
handkerchiefs, and white aprons, looked like a wide flower bed. The
rustling, when they all rose up to prayer, was like the rise of a
flock of doves, and when they chanted the church service, it was the
warble of a thousand little brooks. As Spenser says,--
"The angelical, soft, trembling voices made
Unto the instruments respondence meet."
During the course of the services, when any little one was overcome
with sleep or fatigue, he was carefully handed down, and conveyed in a
man's arms to a refreshment room.
There was a sermon by the Bishop of Chester, very evangelical and
practical. On the whole, a more peculiar or more lovely scene I never
saw. The elegant arches of St. Paul's could have no more beautiful
adornment than those immortal flowers.
After service we lunched with a large party, with Mrs. Milman, at the
deanery near by. Mrs. Jameson was there, and Mrs. Gaskell, authoress
of Mary Barton and Ruth. She has a very lovely, gentle face, and looks
capable of all the pathos that her writings show.
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