I

    FOUR YEARS 1887?1891.

    At ties my faters and myself, all netled in Bedford Park in a red?brick lepieces copied from marble mantlepieces by ttle garden s nut tree. Years before atiously picturesque streets,  trees casting great se movement at last affecting life. But noed criticism aken tiled roofs, t in modern London, o leak, o be bad, t rue; and I imagine t ed because tive stores, tle seventeentury panes, were so like any common sabard

    after C sign of a trumpeter designed by Rooke, te artist, omed,  ran along ting edge of to remember tect friend of my fat it  to keep till,  ers and o feel not ropolis. I no longer  to c, but go I sometimes did, for one Sunday morning I saed on a board in tion are requested to kneel during prayers; tero be  of every seat tle cusly ty, s,  an unimportant accessory to good arcecture and icular church.