The curious statue, or group of statues, in front of the Cathedral, representing Queen Anne, with images of the kingdoms at her feet, is not ineffective. It had gradually fallen into decay, and her Majesty’s features had fallen away. A fanatic once climbed over the railing and was discovered hammering ferociously at the nose, figures, etc. The damage was never repaired. Later the Corporation determined to have it altogether renewed, and the commission was given to the notorious Belt, whose supposed wrongs and hard treatment had excited great noise and sympathy. During the progress of the new _replica_ the sculptor unluckily “got into trouble,” and being found guilty of a serious charge of fraud, was consigned to prison. The work, however, went on, and was completed in prison, where, by the indulgence of the authorities, the sculptor was allowed to do his modelling, carving, etc. This work therefore may be said to have been executed by a convict under sentence. This suggests the incuriousness of the London public as to some of their monuments. Many will recall the perplexing statue which once stood in the centre of Leicester Square. Antiquaries could not agree as to the individual it represented, and from time to time amusing and heated discussions broke out on the subject. Meanwhile the statue began gradually to go to pieces. But no one thought of interfering. Soon it appeared with a wooden prop under the horse, which was accepted as satisfactory for some time. By-and-by came a _farceur_ who fitted it up with a broom in one hand and a saucepan on its head. And this degradation was tolerated. At last it was carted off. But it would be idle to expatiate on the impressive beauty of St. Paul’s, which rises with such solemn majesty, and towers so tremendously over the clustered houses at its feet. There are some curious particulars associated with this great cathedral which are perhaps little known to “the general.” The huge walls which form its outline, it will be noted, are of the height of the central aisle, and suggest a lofty interior of cruciform shape. But when we enter we find that the interior does not correspond to the exterior. There is a great central nave, flanked by narrow aisles, much lower in height, while the choir seems contracted. It is only by comparison that we discover that the exterior is deceptive, and pretends to represent far more space within than really exists. The side aisles are really but half the height represented on the outside, and there is a whole “mock story” over the aisles, which seems a pretence scarcely worthy of so great an architect. Indeed, this system of sham is carried out through the whole, the interior scarcely anywhere corresponding to the exterior.