I saw Mr. Appleton of the Legation, and Dr. Brown, on the floor of the
cathedral. They were about to go over the whole edifice, and had engaged
a guide for that purpose; but, as I intend to go thither again with
S-----, I did not accompany them, but went away the quicker that one of
the gentlemen put on his hat, and I was ashamed of being seen in company
with a man who could wear his hat in a cathedral. Not that he meant any
irreverence; but simply felt that he was in a great public building,--as
big, nearly, as all out of doors,--and so forgot that it was a
consecrated place of worship. The sky is the dome of a greater cathedral
than St. Paul's, and built by a greater architect than Sir Christopher
Wren, and yet we wear our hats unscrupulously beneath it.
I remember no other event of importance, except that I penetrated into a
narrow lane or court, either in the Strand or Fleet Street, where was a
tavern, calling itself the "Old Thatched House," and purporting to have
been Nell Gwyn's dairy. I met with a great many alleys and obscure
archways, in the course of the day's wanderings.
September 14th.--Yesterday, in the earlier part of the day, it poured
with rain, and I did not go out till five o'clock in the afternoon; nor
did I then meet with anything interesting. I walked through Albemarle
Street, for the purpose of looking at Murray's shop, but missed it
entirely, at my first inquisition.
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