The Rev. W. Done Bushell in the “Harrow Octocentenary Tracts” has entered into all the arguments connected with the question, and they are very interesting, but too long to quote here, nor would they help us in ascertaining the history or purpose of this interesting little building, as the Archbishops must have left Hundred Elms farm some two centuries before it was built, as it is evidently a sixteenth century work.
Brickwork in England, it should be observed, is rarely found in houses before the commencement of the sixteenth century. Although brick-making was never quite abandoned, yet it was very little used during the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries. The only important brick church erected during this period is Holy Trinity at Hull, which is of fine red brick. The thirteenth century walls of Yarmouth show dressings of white brick, used like stone, and brick vaulting constructed exactly after the manner of stone is to be seen in the ground floor of the Bishop’s Palace and the Chapter House of the Blackfriars monastery at Norwich. At the commencement of the sixteenth century brick was probably regarded as a luxury and was more expensive than stone. This explains the fact that the palaces and great mansions of the nobles are erected of this material in all districts where it could be procured. In the second quarter of the century, it became the practice to build all the better class of houses of brick in the eastern and home counties of England, though not so in the north or west where fine building stone was much more easily procurable. It is, however, very remarkable that even in the eastern counties, where beautiful brick was to hand, we scarcely ever find this material used for churches. There was evidently an idea prevalent in the minds of our forefathers that churches should be built of stone, and houses of brick, and this prejudice, to a great extent, prevails to the present day, and is very curious because it does not pertain in any other country in Europe. I think nearly all girls and women dislike brick churches, yet why they should do so it is difficult to understand. We should like some of our clever girls to tell us.
(To be continued.)
[HIS GREAT REWARD.]
CHAPTER III.
It was Tuesday afternoon in the week following Easter week, and Mrs. Heritage and her daughter were together in the tiny drawing-room of their house in York Road, when a knock at the street door made them turn and look at each other in surprise.
“Whoever can it be, mumsie darling?” exclaimed Marielle, pausing in her occupation of arranging bunches of yellow daffodils in brown jars on the mantelpiece. Fresh and fair and sweet as the Lent lilies, some of which she had pinned in the bosom of her dress, looked the girl herself, as she stood there in her simple black gown, which only served to set off her delicate complexion to greater advantage.
“I’m sure I don’t know, dearie. It is not very likely to be a visitor for us any way, since very few of our old friends seem to care to trouble themselves about calling nowadays. It was different when your father was alive.” And Mrs. Heritage’s lips quivered a little as the recollection of social triumphs, long gone by, flashed through her mind.
How true it is that “a sorrow’s crown of sorrow is remembering happier things!”