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Near the church is an old manor house, at which Cromwell is said to have stopped on his march into Somerset. W. of Bruton. The little chapel, said to have been built in 1482, was rebuilt in 1623. It contains a stone pulpit, and the ceiling is ornamented with nine escutcheons, including those of the Tudor sovereigns. There is an old black-letter Bible of 1623. Yarlington, a village 3 m.
Of London life as it had been long before I knew it, a notable feature, constantly referred to in memoirs, had been the breakfast party. It had before my time nearly, but had not quite, disappeared. It was so far kept alive by Lord Houghton, at all events, that a breakfast at his house in Bruton Street is one of my own early recollections. The repast began at ten and lasted for half the morning.
On the following day her holiday ended, and she went down to Brighton. Many a time she thought of the ball, and always with a pleasurable recollection. When, however, she happened to think of Frank King and it was seldom it was always with a slight touch of disappointment. No doubt his leave was extended; probably he was still in town, and repeating those afternoon calls in Bruton Street.
She thanked him by a smile and shake of the head; she could not speak for the beating of her heart; she felt almost as much upon the world as when the door in Bruton Street had shut behind her; and besides, a terrible wild fancy had seized her suppose, just suppose, they were all gone away, or ill, or someone dead!
In a very few days, Kate had been settled into the ways of the household in Bruton Street; and found one day so like another, that she sometimes asked herself whether she had not been living there years instead of days. She was always to be ready by half-past seven.
She had on her walls two charming oval portraits of ancestresses, possibly for she was uncertain as to their identity two of the handsome sisters whom Lamb extols. Writing to Manning, May 28, 1819, Lamb says: "How are my cousins, the Gladmans of Wheathampstead, and farmer Bruton? Mrs. Bruton is a glorious woman. "Hail, Mackery End!
'On my journey hither I chanced to put into port at a place called Bruton, where there is an inn that will compare with most, and the skipper is a wench with a glib tongue and a merry eye. I was drinking a glass of spiced ale, as is my custom about six bells of the middle watch, when I chanced to notice a great lanky carter, who was loading up a waggon in the yard with a cargo o' beer casks.
"Isn't a false alarm, is it, Captain Bruton?" said one of the newer settlers. "Two of us went right to your little plantation." "Well?" said my father, eagerly. "Well, sir, you were not at home, so we did what I hope you approve of treated ourselves as you in your hospitality would have treated us. We sat down, ate and drank, and after we were refreshed we came back, but we saw no enemy."
While you were staying down at Framley Court, and also, I suppose, since you have been up here in Bruton Street, you must have seen a good deal of Lord Lufton." "He doesn't come very often to Bruton Street, that is to say, not very often." "H-m," ejaculated Mrs. Grantly, very gently. She would willingly have repressed the sound altogether, but it had been too much for her.
Turning into Bruton Street, he paced its quiet length considering the possibilities that lay within him. It was apparent that the gift would lead to countless embarrassments. If it were once known that he possessed it, would not even his friends avoid him? For how could any one, knowing his most secret thought was at the mercy of another, be happy in that other's presence?
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