St. Mark’s is built in the cruciform style, is mildly elaborate, and moderately serene in outline; but there is nothing very remarkable about any part of it.  Rails run round it, and on the roof there are eight boxed-up, angular-headed projections which may mean something, but from which we have been unable to extract any special consolation.  At each end of the church there are doors; those at the back being small and plain, those in front being also diminutive but larger.  The principal entrance possesses some good points, but it lacks capaciousness and clearness—­has a covered-up, hotel doorway aspect which we don’t relish.  It seems also to be very inconveniently situated:  the bulk of those attending the church come in the opposite direction, and, therefore, if opposed to back door business, which is rather suspicious at a church, have to make a long round-about march, wasting their precious time and strength considerably in getting to the front.  The church, which is fashioned externally of stone, has a brick interior.

A feeling of snugness comes over you on entering; small passages, closed doors, and an amplitude of curtains—­there are curtains at every door in the church—­induce a sensation of coziness; but when you get within, a sort of bewildering disappointment supervenes.  The place seems cold and unfinished,—­looks as if the plasterers and painters had yet to be sent for.  But it has been decided to do without them:  the inside is complete.  There may be some wisdom in this style of thing; but a well-lined inside, whether it appertains to men or churches, is a matter worthy of consideration.  There is an uncomely, fantastical plainness about the interior walls of St. Mark’s, a want of tone and elegance all over them, which may be very interesting to some, but which the bulk of people will not be able to appreciate.  If they were whitewashed, in even the commonest style, they would look better than at present.  Bands of cream-coloured brick run round the walls, and the window arches are bordered with similar material.  The roof is amazingly stocked with wood, all dark stained:  as you look up at it a sense of solemn maddlement creeps over you; and what such a profuse and complex display of timber can mean is a mystery, which only the gods and sharp architects will be able to solve.  The roof is supported by ten long, thin, gilt-headed iron pillars, which relieve what would otherwise in the general aspect of the church amount to a heavy monotony of red brickwork and sombre timber.  On each side of the body of the church there are four neat-looking three-light windows; at the western end there is a beautiful five-light window, but its effect is completely spoiled by a small, pert-looking, precocious organ, which stands right before it.  At each end of the transept there are circular lights of condensed though pleasant proportions.