drafted into the choir at about ten years of age.
It was in 1840 that the wave of the Gothic revival smote the Cathedral of Southminster. ‘There was a lot of lovely stuff went then, sir,’ said Worby, with a sigh. ‘My father couldn’t hardly believe it when he got his orders to clear out the choir. There was a new dean just come in-Dean Burscough it was—and my father had been ‘prenticed to a good firm of joiners in the city, and knew what good work was when he saw it. Crool it was, he used to say: all that beautiful wainscot oak, as good as the day it was put up, and garlands-like of foliage and fruit, and lovely old gilding work on the coats of arms and the organ pipes. All went to the timber yard—every bit except some little pieces worked up in the Lady Chapel, and ’ere in this overmantel. Well—I may be mistook, but I say our choir never looked as well since. Still there was a lot found out about the history of the church, and no doubt but what it did stand in need of repair. There were very few winters passed but what we’d lose a pinnicle.’ Mr. Lake expressed his concurrence with Worby’s views of restoration, but owns to a fear about this point lest the story proper
