The depth and mistiness of the apse behind is lost. The accomplished architect of the fane had these objections in view when he designed a fine baldacchino, supported on rich twisted columns, which would have left the view open and increased the sense of distance. It is really melancholy to find how architects have lost this sense of appropriateness in all their attempts. In a side chapel on the right is seen the Duke of Wellington’s monument, an ambitious structure, somewhat after the pattern of Queen Elizabeth’s monument in the Abbey. There is a sad story of disappointed hopes and failure associated with it. The artist, Alfred Steevens, was an enthusiastic person, full of ardour, and accomplished. He could paint as well as mould, and saw here a chance, as he fancied, of “immortalizing himself.” He flung himself into the work, but only to pass from disaster to disaster. He had modelled his style a good deal after the Elgin marbles, and in Holford House there is a great chimney-piece of his execution, of which the model is shown in the South Kensington Museum; figures in rather contorted attitudes, with brawny, muscular, and fleshy limbs; these were his favourite peculiarities, and as they contrasted with the tame conventional school of his time, it was considered genius and not extravagance. Full of high aspirations, he accepted the commission which was to give him immortality, and agreed to execute it for the sum of £14,000. Considering that the whole was nearly twenty feet high, and comprised carvings and marbles, and bronze castings and much delicate detail, this was cheap. But the artist was a careless, unbusiness-like man; the cash was served out to him as he asked for it by Mr. Penrose, the architect of “the fabric.” He took his time over the matter, and one day it was discovered that almost the whole sum was spent and scarcely half the work executed. The [Illustration: CHIMNEY PIECE, BY STEEVENS.] [Illustration: THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON’S MONUMENT.]