There is something characteristic in this mode of
filial duty and honor. In all these chapels, full of the tombs and
effigies of kings, dukes, arch-prelates, and whatever is proud and
pompous in mortality, there is nothing that strikes me more than the
colossal statue of plain Mr. Watt, sitting quietly in a chair, in St.
Paul's Chapel, and reading some papers. He dwarfs the warriors and
statesmen; and as to the kings, we smile at them. Telford is in another
of the chapels. This visit to the chapels was much more satisfactory
than my former one; although I in vain strove to feel it adequately, and
to make myself sensible how rich and venerable was what I saw. This
realization must come at its own time, like the other happinesses of
life. It is unaccountable that I could not now find the seat of Sir
George Downing's squire, though I examined particularly every seat on
that side of Henry VII's Chapel, where I before found it. I must try
again. . . . .
October 6th.--Yesterday was not an eventful day. I took J----- with me
to the city, called on Mr. Sturgis at the Barings' House, and got his
checks for a bank post-note. The house is at 8 Bishopsgate Street,
Within. It has no sign of any kind, but stands back from the street,
behind an iron-grated fence. The firm appears to occupy the whole
edifice, which is spacious, and fit for princely merchants. Thence I
went and paid for the passages to Lisbon (32 pounds) at the Peninsular
Steam Company's office, and thence to call on General ------.
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