ain its seven windows in
the upper story,--but the end of the coach-house also abutted on the
street, on which was the family clock, quite as much respected in
Perivale as was the town-clock; and between the coach-house and the
mansion there was the broad entrance into the yard, and the entrance
also to the back door. No Perivalian ever presumed to doubt that Mrs.
Winterfield's house was the most important house in the town. Nor
did any stranger doubt it on looking at the frontage. But then it
was in all respects a town house to the eye,--that is, an English
town house, being as ugly and as respectable as unlimited bricks and
mortar could make it. Immediately opposite to Mrs. Winterfield lived
the leading doctor and a retired builder, so that the lady's eye was
not hurt by any sign of a shop. The shops, indeed, came within a very
few yards of her on either side; but as the neighbouring shops on
each side were her own property, this was not unbearable. To me, had
I lived there, the incipient growth of grass through some of the
stones which formed the margin of the road would have been altogether
unendurable. There is no sign of coming decay which is so melancholy
to the eye as any which tells of a decrease in the throng of men. Of
men or horses there was never any throng now in that end of Perivale.
That street had formed part of the main line of road from Salisbury
to Taunton, and coaches, waggons, and posting-carriages had been
frequent on it; but now, alas! it was deserted. Even the omnibuses
from the railway-station never came there unless they were ordered to
call at Mrs. Winterfield's door. For Mrs. Winterfield herself, this
desolation had, I think, a certain melancholy attraction. It suited
her tone of mind and her religious views that she should be thus
daily reminded that things of this world were passing away and going
to destruction. She liked to have ocular proof that grass was growing
in the highways under mortal feet, and that it was no longer worth
man's while to renew human flags in human streets. She was drawing
near to the pavements which would ever be trodden by myriads of
bright sandals, and which yet would never be worn, and would be
carried to those jewelled causeways on which no weed could find a
spot for its useless growth.

Behind the house there was a square prim garden, arranged in
parallelograms, tree answering to tree at every corner, round which
it was still her delight to creep when the we