Still less were we prepared for the interior of the church. It had
a picturesque square tower covered with ivy, and a general air of
fitness for a sketch; indeed, the photograph of it in its present
beautified state will not stand a comparison with our drawings of
it, in those days of dilapidation in the middle of the untidy
churchyard, with little boys astride on the sloping, sunken lichen-
grown headstones, mullein spikes and burdock leaves, more graceful
than the trim borders and zinc crosses which are pleasanter to the
mental eye.
The London church we had left would be a fearful shock to the
present generation, but we were accustomed to decency, order, and
reverence; and it was no wonder that my father was walking about the
churchyard, muttering that he never saw such a place, while my
brothers were full of amusement. Their spruce looks in their tall
hats, bright ties, dark coats, and white trowsers strapped tight
under their boots, looked incongruous with the rest of the
congregation, the most distinguished members of which were farmers
in drab coats with huge mother-of-pearl buttons, and long gaiters
buttoned up to their knees and strapped up to their gay waistcoats
over their white corduroys. Their wives and daughters were in
enormous bonnets, fluttering with ribbons; but then what my mother
and Emily wore were no trifles.
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