The Santa Claus Wait
Christmas Eve is a special time for children. Every year they wait for their presents from Santa Claus. Magic is everywhere in Tim and Robert’s house which is decorated with greeting cards, candles and lights. The sweet smell of Mum’s homemade cookies also brings to mind the coming wonders.
Throughout the month before Christmas Tim and his brother Robert regularly made their beds, set the table and followed their parents’ instructions about the house. As usual, each of them wrote a letter to Santa to ask for a toy. They knew Santa wouldn’t visit naughty children.
The same thing happened each year until the brothers were nine. They suddenly began to doubt that Santa could decorate their tree and millions more trees in a single night. It also seemed hard for Santa to deliver all the gifts before daybreak. Besides, they kept asking Dad how Santa could get inside their house without a chimney!
Dad usually answered that Santa would surely come, but that the children should be good and go to bed early. So on Christmas Eve, after Mum had checked that there was enough food left for Santa, the boys were sent to bed as usual. Robert was soon asleep, but Tim silently lay in bed, hoping to hear Santa coming. It seemed the longest night of Tim’s life.
In the early morning, when the other members of the family were still asleep, Tim bravely went to the living room to check for presents from Santa. When he switched on the light, he cried “Wow! He’s come!” In the room the Christmas tree stood in the middle of a big platform that looked like a small town with a toy railroad. It was unbelievable: a toy wonderland!
Tim spent an hour among the toys and then decided to wake up Robert and his parents to see the presents. While running upstairs he saw that the cookies had disappeared. In excitement he went into his parents’ bedroom but didn’t notice that they seemed a little bit more tired than usual.
“Mum! Dad! Quick! Robert! It’s fantastic!” he shouted. Everybody went down. Robert immediately saw his new car. It was wonderful. Poor Robert was upset because the car wouldn’t run. Dad said he couldn't understand why the car wouldn't start. The batteries in the car had been absolutely new.
He didn’t know Tim had turned on the car and had forgotten about it when he was checking out other gifts earlier. Within that hour the batteries died, in those times they didn't last long. Tim kept silent as he didn’t want to be punished on Christmas Day.
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| On Christmas Day, Tim’s father usually dressed up like Santa. | |||||||||
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| Tim was the first to get up on Christmas Day. | |||||||||
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| Some tasty things were left for Santa on that Christmas night. | |||||||||
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| There were presents for the parents under the Christmas tree. | |||||||||
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| Tim told his father that he had damaged the car. | |||||||||
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# 32 (2E90BB)
A Model Millionaire
Hugh Erskine was a charming young man, with brown hair and a clear-cut profile. After his father’s death, he inherited only an old cavalry sword and fifteen war books. To earn his living, Hugh had tried selling tea, then working at the stock exchange, but hadn’t succeeded. He had to live on the little money he managed to earn. It was no more than a few hundred pounds.
To make matters worse he fell in love with Laura Merton. Hugh won Laura’s affection and they were the nicest couple in London. Laura’s father was very fond of Hugh, however, he said he could only let his daughter marry Hugh when the young man got ten thousand pounds. It was an enormous sum for Hugh.
One morning, on his way to Laura’s house, Hugh dropped in to see a great friend of his, Alan Trevor. Alan was a brilliant artist: a real master. His paintings were wonderful and sold very successfully.
When Hugh came in, he found Trevor finishing a life-size picture of a beggar-man. The beggar himself was standing on a platform in the corner of the studio. He was an elderly person, with a miserable expression on his face and poor, torn clothes over his body. He was an amazing model, absolutely different from Alan’s other models!
Trevor told Hugh that he paid the model a shilling an hour. Hugh said that the pay was unfair because the painter would get at least a thousand pounds for the picture. Hugh was sure that the model should be paid more for standing all day long in the studio. But Alan only smiled back. When Trevor went out for a moment, Hugh gave the beggar the only sovereign he had in his pocket. The old man smiled mysteriously and thanked Hugh.
The next day Hugh met Alan Trevor in the club. Trevor confessed that the beggar was Baron Hausberg, the richest man in London, and Trevor’s great friend. He bought many of his pictures and that day he had asked to paint him in beggar’s clothes. Trevor also said that he had told Baron about Hugh’s love and money problems.
“And I gave him a sovereign!” Hugh cried out, red with shame. Trevor continued laughing loudly. He added that Baron Hausberg was in high spirits after Hugh had left and was rubbing his hands together. Nevertheless, Hugh was so unhappy that he asked Trevor not to tell the story to anyone else and left the club.
The next morning the servant brought Hugh a visiting card. The visitor, an old man in golden spectacles, was from Baron Hausberg. As he came into the room, Hugh expressed sincere apologies to the Baron. Instead the man handed Hugh an envelope. On the outside it was written, ‘A wedding present to Hugh Erskine and Laura Merton, from an old beggar’.
Hugh opened the envelope. Inside, there was a cheque for ten thousand pounds.
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| Baron Hausberg was a talented artist himself. | |||||||||
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# 33 (AED11C)
A Desperate Adventure
Captain Cowgill had always wanted to arrange a hot-air balloon expedition. One day, he placed an announcement in all the morning papers. He wrote that he needed three people who wanted to take a risky adventure. Ten people came to his office and Captain Cowgill selected three of them: two men and a young lady.
The first volunteer was Mr. Crutter, a well-dressed man of about sixty. He looked depressed and unhappy. The second one was a doctor, Dr. Hagan, a sad thin gentleman. The third adventurer, Miss Dermott, looked slim and miserable. They were ready to fly in the balloon in spite of the risks. Though Captain Cowgill hoped for success, there was a great chance that the participants wouldn’t come back.
The next day, the balloon was ready for the journey. They had some food and the gas equipment. It was supposed that the travellers would fly during the day and then land for the night. Right before the take-off, a young man ran up to Captain Cowgill and begged to let him join the expedition. Captain Cowgill listened to his arguments and let the young man, Mr. Winden, fly too.
With the last farewell to Captain Cowgill, the balloon went sailing towards the clouds. At first the travellers said nothing. An hour later they found the journey exciting. Two hours later they revealed their reasons for coming on the dangerous flight.
Mr. Crutter said that he had been cheated by his partners and had lost a large part of his business. Though he had enough money left, he felt extremely depressed. Dr. Hagan told the travellers that he had lost his job in a hospital. He felt lonely and unwanted. Miss Dermott said that she suffered from a serious disease and had no money for treatment. Mr. Winden had just split up with his girlfriend and was ready to die.
In the evening, the travellers decided to take a rest. They landed in a deserted place and tied the balloon to a tree. After supper they continued talking about their unhappy fates. Suddenly, Mr. Crutter offered to share his money with his new friends. Dr. Hagan smiled and looked at Miss Dermont. “I think I can cure you, Miss Dermott,” he said. “I have already had patients with the same diagnosis.” Miss Diamont smiled. But it wasn’t the last surprise. Mr. Winden proposed to Miss Diamont saying that he had fallen in love at first sight. She shyly promised to think it over.
The talk raised their spirits and, in the morning, everybody decided to go back home. Now when all their problems were happily solved, they didn’t want to go anywhere. Suddenly Miss Dermott cried out pointing to a distant object in the sky. It was their balloon that had broken loose while they were having breakfast. Nobody felt upset!
The group decided to walk to the nearest railway station. Mr. Crutter bought tickets for his new friends and they sent Captain Cowgill a telegram. It said that the balloon had flown away accidentally, their expedition had failed and they would arrive in town the next day.
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# 34 (33F51B)
The Open Window
Mr. Nuttel, a young gentleman, came to live in the country. The doctors said a quiet place like that and complete rest could help cure his nerves. He didn’t know anyone round there and was too shy to make new acquaintances. That’s why his sister gave him letters of introduction to some nice people she knew.
One of the letters was to Mrs. Sappleton. When Mr. Nuttel visited her, Mrs Sappleton was busy and he was asked to wait for several minutes. The servant invited Mr. Nuttel into a room. There Mr. Nuttel met Mrs. Sappleton’s niece, a very self-confident young lady of fifteen. The young gentleman was very shy and he didn’t know how to start the conversation. The young lady broke the silence and asked him what he knew about her aunt. Mr. Nuttel knew nothing except Mrs. Sappleton’s name and address.
Mr. Nuttel looked around. There was something about the room that told him there were other people living in the house. So he was wondering if Mrs. Sappleton was married. Suddenly the girl got sad and told a story of Mrs. Sappleton’s tragedy. Mr. Nuttel was greatly surprised because his sister hadn’t told him anything about it. The tragedy was very unusual for that peaceful place.
The girl pointed at the French window, which opened on to the lawn and said that Mrs. Sappleton always kept it open. Mr. Nuttel stated that it was natural to keep the window open because the weather was quite warm. But the girl sighed and explained that her poor aunt always kept the window open in the evenings because she was waiting for her husband and sons to return. Three years ago they had gone hunting and never came back. The story caught Mr. Nuttel’s imagination deeply. He felt very upset.
He felt a little better only when Mrs. Sappleton finally appeared in the room. She apologized for being late and asked if he minded the open window. She said her husband and sons would soon be home from hunting. They always came in that way. Then, she continued talking cheerfully about hunting ducks. But Mr. Nuttel felt terrible.
He made an attempt to change the topic and told her about the reasons why he had come to the country. But Mrs. Sappleton didn’t seem to notice. She was constantly looking at the open window. Mr. Nuttel felt uncomfortable. He understood that he had chosen the wrong moment to visit her. Suddenly Mrs. Sappleton cried happily pointing at the window, “Here they are at last, just in time for tea!” Three male figures were walking across the lawn towards the window. They carried guns and a dog followed them.
Shocked and afraid, Mr. Nuttel grabbed his stick and hat and rushed out of the house. Mrs. Sappleton was extremely surprised at the extraordinary man who had left the house so quickly without a word. Her niece suggested that it was because of the dog. She said that Mr. Nuttel had been afraid of them since childhood – once, a dog had seriously bitten him. This was enough to make the young man lose his nerve. The young lady was so good at making up stories!
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# 35 (4907A6)
Joseph Rudyard Kipling
Joseph Rudyard Kipling is considered to be one of the greatest English writers. He was born in 1865, in Bombay, India. At the time of his birth, his parents were recent arrivals in India. They had come to India with plans to start a new life. The family lived quite well. His father, an artist, was the head of the Department of Architectural Sculpture at the School of Art. For young Kipling, India was a wonderful and happy place.
However, at the age of 6, Kipling's life changed greatly. He was sent to England to receive a formal British education. These were hard years for Kipling. The boy suffered from strict school discipline, his classmates’ insults and bullying. His only comfort was books: he enjoyed reading. By the age of 11, Kipling was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Fortunately, Kipling’s mother placed him in a new school. There, Kipling found friends and discovered his talent for writing, eventually becoming the editor of the school newspaper.
In 1882, Kipling was told by his parents that they didn't have enough money to send him to college, and he returned to India. It was a powerful moment in the young writer's life. He found a job with a local newspaper. Kipling's experience as a reporter formed the backbone for lots of his stories. Later, his collection of 40 short stories called Plain Tales from the Hills gained wide popularity in England.
Seven years later, Kipling returned to England in the hope of becoming a famous writer. In London, he met Wolcott Balestier, an American publisher who became one of Kipling's great friends and supporters. Later, Kipling happily married Wolcott’s sister, Carrie.
As a writer, Kipling flourished. His portfolio contained gems like The Jungle Book, The Naulahka: A Story of the West and East and The Second Jungle Book. Kipling loved children and understood them very well. His tales fascinated boys and girls all over the world.
Kipling travelled a lot, but in 1902 he returned to Great Britain with his wife and children. The Kiplings bought a large estate in Sussex and many of his most famous books were written there. One of them was Just So Stories. The book's name had, in fact, come from his daughter, who asked her father to repeat each tale several times, or "just so," as she often said.
In 1907 he was the first English writer to receive the Nobel Prize for Literature. It was international recognition of his talent.
In 1914, the First World War began and Kipling was a passionate supporter of the fight against Germany. He even encouraged his son John to join the army though John had a serious problem with his eyesight. Kipling and his son were very close. Unfortunately, in October of 1915, John was killed in France. Kipling, feeling guilty about persuading his son to become a soldier, was terribly depressed.
Due to these sad circumstances, for the last twenty years of his life Kipling did not write any more of his wonderful children's tales.
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| Kipling met his future wife due to his friend. | |||||||||
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| The book Just So Stories got its name due to Kipling’s daughter. | |||||||||
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| At the beginning of the 20th century, Kipling was given a prestigious literary award. | |||||||||
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| Kipling’s son returned from the war with a problem with his eyesight. | |||||||||
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# 36 (EE5D4C)
David Livingstone
David Livingstone was an explorer, missionary, and anti-slavery fighter. He became a great hero of the 19th century for his discoveries in Africa.
David Livingstone was born in 1813 in Scotland, and grew up with several brothers and sisters in a single room in a gloomy building for the workers of a cotton factory. To support his family, he started working at the cotton mill as a child. The work was dull and monotonous, but it taught him patience and sympathy with those who worked hard. Though he had twelve-hour working days, David studied at school during the evenings and weekends. Later, he started studying medicine in Glasgow and completed his medical studies in 1840 in London.
In the official role of a ‘medical missionary’, he set off for Africa, arriving in Cape Town, South Africa, in 1841.
Exploring Africa, Livingstone went north and walked across the Kalahari Desert. He came upon Lake Ngami and, later, the Zambezi River. Livingstone was the first European to see the famous Zambezi falls, which he renamed Victoria Falls, after Queen Victoria.
Livingstone was the first medical missionary to enter southern and central Africa, and he was the first European to meet local tribes. He won their trust as a friendly person and an experienced doctor. He had so many patients among the native people that he had to limit his treatment only to those with serious illnesses.
David Livingstone made two more expeditions to Africa. By 1856, he was one of the first Europeans to cross the African continent from west to east. His motto, which was later written on the base of the statue to him at Victoria Falls, was ‘Christianity, Commerce and Civilization.’ He deeply believed that the navigation of the Zambezi River, as a commercial route into the centre of the continent, would help people achieve these goals. Livingstone also tried to find the source of the Nile River. He never did, but discovered lots of facts about the four great African lakes.
Livingstone’s African expeditions brought him fame as one of the leading explorers of the 19th century. However, according to historians, one of Livingstone's greatest achievements was also promoting antislavery ideas. His books told people about the cruelties and horrors slaves had to suffer.
For several years there were no letters from Livingstone and it was decided in London that the explorer was lost. The two main British newspapers sent the journalist, Henry Stanley, to Africa to find David Livingstone. Stanley found the explorer in late 1871, and upon seeing him, said the now well-known words, "Dr. Livingstone, I presume?"
Livingstone refused to leave his beloved Africa and spent the last years of his life almost cut off from the outside world. He died in 1873. Later, his body was transported to London and buried in Westminster Abbey.
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| David Livingstone went to Africa several times. | |||||||||
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| David Livingstone bought slaves and made them free. | |||||||||
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| Henry Stanley made David Livingstone return to England. | |||||||||
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| David Livingstone’s grave is in Africa. | |||||||||
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# 37 (66CDDB)
Robert Falcon Scott
Robert Falcon Scott, known as Captain Scott or Scott of the Antarctic, was a British polar explorer. He joined the Royal Navy in 1882. Although he had no previous experience of polar research, in 1900 he became the leader of the British Antarctic Expedition. This expedition, known as the Discovery Expedition lasted from 1901 to 1904. Among other important things it determined the nature and size of the Ross Ice Shelf in Antarctica.
The aim of Scott’s second expedition in 1910-12 was to reach the South Pole. Departing from Cardiff, Wales, on the ship Terra Nova, the expedition reached the Antarctic coast in 1911. There Scott learned that the Norwegian explorer, Roald Amundsen, had already left for the Pole. So Scott’s chance to reach the South Pole before R. Amundsen was poor.
Equipped with motor tractors, ponies and dogs, Scott and 11 members of his team set off for the Pole on 24 October, 1911. Unfortunately, the motor tractors rapidly broke down and their ponies were unsuitable for Antarctic conditions. Very soon, six members of the team were sent back. The five explorers continued their dangerous journey across the snowy desert. On 16 January, they saw a black marker flag left by the Norwegian expedition, and two days later the party reached the South Pole itself, where the Norwegians had built a snow marker. Amundsen had reached the South Pole more than a month earlier, on 14 December 1911. Scott was greatly disappointed after the exhausting 81-day journey and recorded in his diary, "This is an awful place and terrible enough for us to have reached it without the reward of priority."
However, the 800 mile return journey was even more terrible. Two members fell ill and died, and the remaining explorers were frozen inside their tent in a terrible nine-day snowstorm. The last entry in Scott's diary was made on 29 March.
Eight months later a search party, led by Dr Atkinson, discovered the tent and the bodies of the explorers, along with the diaries and last letters of Scott. Scott had written a message explaining the reasons for the failure. The search party buried the brave explorers and built a snow memorial on their grave. Later, another memorial was put up at Observation Hill, at Hut Point (Antarctica) with the words ‘ to strive, to seek, to find and not to yield. ’
The news about the death of the Polar team reached Britain in February 1913. Within days, Scott became a national icon. A memorial service was held in St Paul’s Cathedral. A campaign was launched to raise a memorial fund to continue the scientific work Scott had carried out. The Scott Polar Research Institute was founded. In the several years following the disaster, more than 30 monuments and memorials were set up in Britain alone.
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| The British did a lot to keep the memory of Captain Scott alive. | |||||||||
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# 38 (F426BC)
Christmas Fire
Dan had sweet memories of his childhood years, especially Christmas. In those days, he had lived in Wales, in a small town. He remembered the white snow in the garden and a cold moon in the sky at night. December was always cold and frosty. Dan spent lots of time outdoors because he liked playing in the snow. While Dan was growing up, each Christmas was much like the last: Christmas tree, Christmas wishes, Christmas presents under the tree, Christmas dinner with relatives. But one of his Christmases he would remember forever.
It was many years ago, and he was 6 or 7 years old. It was the afternoon of Christmas Eve. Dan was playing in Mrs. Prothero’s garden with her son Jim. Dan was afraid of Mrs. Prothero because she always looked strict and harsh. She never invited him to the house. But her son Jim was different. The boys were playing cat hunters: they made lots of snowballs and prepared to attack the cats. Dan and Jim felt cold waiting for the cats to come over the garden wall. But none of them had appeared yet.
Suddenly the boys heard a loud cry from the house. At first they thought it was Mrs. Prothero’s white cat that was their main enemy. Soon the cry repeated and grew louder. Now the boys understood that it was Mrs. Prothero herself, and she was shouting ’Fire!’
The boys ran down towards the house. The door was wide open with grey smoke coming from inside. Something was burning. Mrs. Prothero desperately called for help and for Mr. Prothero, who was obviously sleeping in another room. He always slept after lunch with a newspaper over his face. Finally, Mr. Prothero appeared in the clouds of smoke in the doorway. “What a fine Christmas!” he said waving his hand like an orchestra conductor. Mrs. Prothero asked him to call the fire brigade, but he doubted that they would be available because of the holiday. But he sent the boys to the telephone box.
Dan and Jim rushed out of the house. The adventure seemed to be better than cat hunting. Jim suggested also calling the police and the ambulance. But they called only the fire brigade. The fire truck and three tall men in helmets arrived just as the boys returned to Mrs. Prothero’s house. It was the noisiest and most unusual Christmas Eve they had ever had.
The firemen started the pump and the water ran into the house. When it was all over, Mr. and Mrs. Prothero were standing in their wet and smoky room with a grey Christmas tree in the middle. The room looked a complete mess. Mrs. Prothero opened the oven and took out a burnt cake. She was in tears – it had been a horrible Christmas.
Just as the firemen were going to leave, Jim’s aunt, Miss Prothero, came back home. She looked surprised at the crowd of neighbours but did not give way to panic. She opened a colourful paper bag and produced a nice Christmas cake from the nearest shop. Then she smiled and said, “Merry Christmas! Everything will be all right!”
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# 39 (5E109E)
A Missing Street
Mark had worked in the Сity Hall for more than twenty years. He registered the files with the names of all the streets in Montreal. Mark lived near the City Hall and rarely walked round the city, but he knew the location of the streets very well. He knew Montreal better than the policemen or taxi drivers.
His job was pretty dull and monotonous, but Mark preferred the office to his flat in Oven Street anyway. His neighbours were noisy and unpleasant. Every time he tried to explain the importance of his work, they looked down on him as a low-level clerk. They failed to understand that they got their mail only because Oven Street had its postal index in one of the files in the City Hall.
Once Mark’s peaceful life was disturbed. He opened one of the drawers in his study and found an index card stuck at the back. He drew it out carefully. Green Bottle Street it said. Mark stared at it in wonder. He could not remember any street with that name. He searched all the files but could not find anything. It was not on the list.
Mark examined the card once more. There was no mistake. The paper was old and yellow. The last inspection date marked on the card was more than fifteen years before. Mark was frozen with horror. It was a lost, forgotten street! For so many years it had existed a mile away from the Hall, and nobody knew about it.
Deep in his heart, Mark sometimes had thought of such a possibility. There were so many winding streets in the city that it looked like a labyrinth. But with all these files it simply could not happen. Vaguely he remembered that at the beginning of his career his office had moved to another floor and all the cards were made afresh. Maybe at that time one of the cards had got stuck in the drawer.
Mark slept badly that night. In the morning he put the card in his pocket and went looking for Green Bottle Street. Though he knew its location, he passed it twice. Finally, he came up to a wooden door, behind which a narrow street started. He opened the door and stepped inside. Green Bottle Street lay before him.
It was named after its shape. On either side of the street there were three well-kept houses with nice, small gardens in front. At the end of the street there was a brick wall, which separated it from the rest of the world. Everything there was quiet and safe. An old woman was watering roses in one of the gardens.
She told Mark that they used to pay taxes and get the mail until they were forgotten. Then they built a wooden door with a lock to protect their tiny peaceful area from passers-by and officials. They helped people who got tired of the busy city and wanted to take a break for a while. Some rooms in the houses were for rent.
Mark understood that the yellow card he had found in the drawer could break people’s peaceful but fragile world. He sighed and tore the card to pieces. For all he cared, Green Bottle Street could remain lost forever.
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| Over the past 15 years, Green Bottle Street had been without any postal index code. | |||||||||
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| The card Green Bottle Street was delivered by post. | |||||||||
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| All the houses in Green Bottle Street were painted green. | |||||||||
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| The old woman suggested that Mark could rent a room in Green Bottle Street. | |||||||||
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| Mark registered Green Bottle Street and gave it an index code. | |||||||||
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# 40 (15F373)
Sir Christopher Wren
Sir Christopher Wren was a designer, astronomer, geometer, and one of the greatest English architects of his time.
Christopher Wren was born into a rich family in 1632. He was a weak and sickly child and was taught at home by private tutors and his father. Wren’s schooling is a mystery: there are no documents about whether he attended school or not. However, there is a written evidence that he entered Oxford University in 1650 to study science and mathematics.
On graduating from university, Wren was appointed Professor of Astronomy at Gresham College, London. He was required to give weekly lectures in both Latin and English to all who wished to attend; admission was free. His lectures and the following discussions led to establishing the Royal Society, England’s first scientific organization.
Later, Christopher Wren taught at Oxford University. His scientific work included astronomy, optics, mechanics, medicine and meteorology. He invented and improved lots of things. He experimented with submarine design, road paving, and design of telescopes. It was also around these times that his attention turned to architecture.
In Wren's time, the profession of an architect did not exist. In the past, buildings had been constructed to the requirements of the patron and the suggestions of building professionals, such as master carpenters or master bricklayers. Since the early years of the 17th century, it was not unusual for the well-educated gentleman to take up architecture as a hobby. Wren designed 51 London churches, including St Paul’s Cathedral, and several buildings after the Great Fire in 1666. Each church was different, though all were classical in style. He insisted on the finest materials and only skillful workers were hired for the job. Christopher Wren became a knight in 1673.
Actually, St Paul’s Cathedral is still Wren's masterpiece. The architectural style of St Paul’s Cathedral is a beautiful mix of the Medieval, Classical, and Baroque. The inside of St Paul’s Cathedral is gorgeous. The foundation stone of the Cathedral was laid in 1675 when Wren was 43 years old, and the last stone was put in place by his son, 35 years later.
Nowadays, St Paul’s Cathedral is the largest working Protestant church in England. Services are held regularly. Important events at the Cathedral have included the funerals of Lord Nelson and Sir Winston Churchill, Jubilee celebrations of Queen Victoria, peace services marking the end of the First and the Second World Wars and, most recently, the thanksgiving services for both the Golden Jubilee and 80th birthday of Her Majesty the Queen.
Wren died on 25th February 1723. His gravestone in St Paul’s Cathedral features a Latin inscription which translates as: 'If you seek his memorial, look about you. '
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| There is no proof that Christopher Wren studied at Oxford University. | |||||||||
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| Christopher Wren’s lectures were popular with students. | |||||||||
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| Christopher Wren’s scientific interests were in different spheres. | |||||||||
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| The profession of an architect was very popular in the 17th century. | |||||||||
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| Christopher Wren was demanding when choosing materials and builders. | |||||||||
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| At present, St Paul’s Cathedral works only as a historical museum. | ||||||||||||
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