He had meant his great Cathedral to stand as it stands to-day, with an open space all round it. Someone suggested that it would look much better if it were enclosed by a wall. And, in spite of Sir Christopher’s remonstrances, a wall was built, which quite spoilt the effect in his eyes. He might have gone up and down the world trying to prove to everyone that his idea was best, and he might have made himself and his friends very unhappy over the unkindness and injustice that had been shown him, but, instead of this, he only shrugged his shoulders when he looked at the unsightly wall, and said, with a little laugh, that ‘ladies thought nothing looked well without an edging.’ Then he retired quietly to Hampton Court, where he had a house, and occupied himself until he died with his old hobby of Astronomy, and with reading Theology and Philosophy. We read that occasionally the old man would ‘give himself a treat,’ and do you know what that treat was? He would come to London, and walk quietly up the Strand to St. Paul’s Churchyard, and stand and look for a while at the great and beautiful Cathedral that he had built, and then he would go home feeling quite content and happy, for he knew that it would stand for long centuries after the ugly wall had been pulled down again, and that future generations would forget all the unkind and untrue things that people had said about him, while they would always remember that it was he, Christopher Wren, who was the builder of St. Paul’s. And there was something else, I think, which must have made him very happy towards the close of his life. In those days people were not above taking bribes--that is, they would take money, let us say, from a timber merchant, and promise that they would use his timber, whether it was good or bad; or from a stonemason, and use his stones, no matter how badly they were hewn. But Wren had never done this; his hands were clean, and he left such a splendid name for uprightness and honesty behind him that after his death someone wrote of him, ‘In a corrupt age, all testimonies leave him spotless.’ Now let us go inside the Cathedral, and walk round it, although it is so full of monuments that it is impossible to tell you the story of each. As we look at them we realize that St. Paul’s still keeps its character of the Citizens’ Church. In Westminster Abbey, Kings, and poets, and writers lie buried, or have monuments put up to their memory, but here, in St. Paul’s, most of the monuments are those of national heroes, of men who have lived and died for the Empire.