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Ewing, Juliana Horatia Gatty, 1841-1885

"A Flat Iron for a Farthing or Some Passages in the Life of an only Son"

There were
dirty calico blinds to do duty for stained glass in moderating the
light; dirt, long gathered, had blunted the sharpness of the tracery
on the old carved stalls in the chancel, where the wood-worms of
several generations had eaten fresh patterns of their own, and the
squat, solemn little carved figures seemed to moulder under one's
eyes. In the body of the church were high pews painted white, and four
or five old tombs with life-size recumbent figures fitted in oddly
with these, and a skimpy looking prayer-desk, pulpit, and font, which
were squeezed together between the half-rotten screen and a stone
knight in armour.
"Pretty tidy," said our churchwarden, tapping of the pews with a
patronising finger; "but bless and save us, Mr. Andrewes, sir, the
walls be disgraceful dirty, and ten shillings' worth of lime and
labour would make 'em as white as the driven snow. The sexton says
there be a rate, and if so, why don't they whitewash and paint a bit,
and get rid of them rotten old seats, and make things a bit decent?
You don't find a many places to beat Dacrefield, sir, go as far as you
will," he added complacently, and with an air of having exhausted
experience in the matter of country churches.


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