three-fourths of a wide circle with your feet, and passed through a strong gateway, it is found you are at the building.  St. Mary’s has a strong, heavy, compact appearance.  Its front is arched below and storied above; it has ivy creeping up its walls—­trying probably to get to some of the five nondescript ornaments above the tower—­and has a half baronial, half old hall look at first sight.  Some years ago there was much ivy about the general building; but the “rare old plant” engendered dampness and had to be pulled down.  At each side of the front there is a small pinnacle, and flanking the gables of the transept there are four somewhat similar elevations.  They are mainly used by sparrows.

The church can be approached by a doorway at the eastern end of the transept; but the bulk of the worshippers pass through those at the southern or front end—­three in number, and rather heavy and dim in appearance.  The centre one leads into the body of the building, and we may as well take advantage of it.  We are just within; above there is a serious looking groined roof, with a lamp suspended from the middle of it; before us there is a screen, filled in with clear glass, through which you can see the worshippers who seem thin and scattered.  Formerly the back of a sharply drawn up, dangerous gallery, for scholars, over which careless children might have fallen with the greatest ease, occupied the place of this screen, and a series of hot water pipes—­apparently intended for warming the doorway and the churchyard in front, for they could have been of no use to people inside the building—­were fixed there.  In 1866, when the church was renovated, they were carried about fifteen yards into the edifice, where they may be seen to this day.  We sat close to eight of them, with a top coat on, one Sunday evening, as a compensation for being nearly starved to death in one of the back side wings in the morning, and felt charmingly cooked at the end of the service.  On the left side of the central entrance, and near the glass door and the screen, there is an elaborately carved box of Gothic design, intended for missionary contributions; but it is fixed in such a dim corner that nobody can see it.  We have recommended the beadle to place this box in a more prominent position, for it is worth looking at as an ornament, even if nothing is put into it.  The aperture in the lid might be closed, and the box could then be hung up beside the doorway lamp, so that its proportions might be fairly realised.  The interior of the church is broad and lofty, but through its Norman configuration it is stiff and coldly ponderous in effect.  Massive bare walls, high narrow windows, and a semi-sexagonal ceiling dependent upon rather ungainly beams and rafters, like a series of hanging frames, chill you a little; but on looking northward, to the end of the building, the chancel and transept arches, which are strong and elegantly moulded, relieve you, and as you advance the place seems to gradually assume a finer and more imposing aspect.