St. Paul's. Si quaeris monumentum, circumspice. No epitaph more noble and impressive can have possibly been conceived than the simple Latin inscription placed upon the modest tomb of Christopher Wren: "If ye seek my monument, look around." When building this magnificent structure, the great architect was preparing a glorious sepulchre to receive his remains. Some thirty-five years it took Wren to realise this great achievement--an achievement the more astounding when we learn that he was actively engaged throughout the whole time in the planning and personal superintendence of some thirty churches in London, no two of which are alike. Daily he walked around jotting down a sketch of the next detail to be worked upon, deciding, as the work progressed, and maturing his plans, throwing out one day a course, another day realising an idea that had just occurred to him. Thus the fabric rose higher day by day, month by month, year by year. He adhered to no carefully prepared plans; he entrusted nothing to his subordinates; he hugged the entire responsibility. They did not know what phase of work the morrow would bring. On the day each workman would receive a rough section and plan jotted down on the spot, accompanied with verbal instructions. If, even when finished according to his directions, Wren was dissatisfied with this gem of his brain, down it had to come, to be substituted by some other improved idea. Of course Wren had in the first place to submit plans for the proposed cathedral. It is not likely that any committee would engage in anything so important blindfolded. But these plans only formed the shell on which to peg any new suggestions that might crop up in the progress of the work, very much after the fashion of a plastic sketch submitted by the sculptor to a committee, who look wise and generally make foolish comments. The sketch is merely an indication of what is to come after, and is intended as some guarantee. Without this no conscientious committee would commit themselves to any agreement. They control the expenditure of the public subscriptions. If the finished work does not come up to the promised standard of excellence, the committee can fall back upon the sketch and get exonerated of all culpable blame. The artist gets the abuse for the failure or departure from the original. When such necessarily rough sketches are faithfully carried out, they often are failures; for what look well in a rough sketch often become serious blemishes in the completed work. The true artist is never satisfied--that is, that extraordinary being who has a greater love for art than for mere coin--and will alter and improve upon his original design at every suggestion (and they crowd thick upon him) that makes itself manifest, with a total disregard to his own pocket and that punctuality so essential to the successful city man. He has got his ideal, and he is determined to reach it if he has to go through a brick wall.