No, the history of that time is not pleasant reading; and we feel almost glad when we hear that, first of all, the wooden spire was struck by lightning, and set on fire, and then that the whole church was burned down by the Great Fire that devastated London in September, 1666; for then a new beginning could be made, and those unhappy old stories forgotten. II You all know about the Great Fire of London: how it came after the Plague, and how it seemed such a calamity at the time, but proved, after all, a blessing in disguise, for it burned down all the old plague-infested, unhealthy wooden houses, which were so crowded together that the streets were narrow and dark, and made room for better buildings and wider streets, and brought in a healthier mode of living altogether. Just before the Fire broke out, a proposal had been made to restore the old Cathedral, and a famous architect, Sir Christopher Wren, had been called on to discuss the matter. He had agreed to undertake the work, and was prepared to do so, when the Great Fire took place, and when it was over, there was nothing left of the church but the blackened walls. Then people shook their heads, and said that it would be impossible to restore it. A new Cathedral might be built somewhere else, but the St. Paul’s that they had known on Ludgate Hill had gone for ever. But Sir Christopher Wren differed from them. ‘It would be impossible to restore the church,’ he said, ‘or even to rebuild it on its old foundation, but there was no reason why a new foundation should not be laid, and a new church built upon it.’ ‘That was all very well,’ answered the objectors to the scheme; but how did Dr. Wren propose to take down the walls and level the old foundations? He suggested gunpowder; and with a little care he could have blown down the walls quite safely, but a stupid master-builder thought that he could do the work himself, without the architect superintending, and he set to work one morning, and used such a big charge of the explosive that a great many of the half-ruined houses in the neighbourhood fell with the force of the explosion, and people got such a fright that they objected to gunpowder being used at all. The famous architect was not dismayed, however, at this opposition. He believed in the proverb that says, ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way.’ So he procured a great beam of wood, forty feet long, and had it covered at both ends with iron. Then he slung this beam up in a wooden erection, something like a triangle, and used it as a battering-ram to break down the walls. At first it appeared as if it would be in vain. The workmen battered at the walls for a whole day, and not a stone fell. But Wren persevered, and the next day he was rewarded, for the great buttresses fell at last with a crash, and he was able to proceed with his work. And this he did most thoroughly. Someone has said of him that he ‘built for eternity,’ and, as far as any man can do so, the saying is true.