The house inhabited by this ancient family was a unique survival of very early times.[9] Where we should now use iron girders our ancestors used oak-trees; they erected them upside-down, so that the roots made arches on which to lay the roof. Large stones were hewn to fill in the walls, and in this particular building the outer surface of the stones was incrusted with a transparent green glaze, very similar to what is now seen on rough pottery. This curious specimen of domestic architecture survived in a habitable condition till the early part of the eighteenth century, when it was wantonly destroyed, and replaced by a brick mansion of the dark and uninteresting type of the early Georges. Portions of the glazed stones are still preserved in the house amongst many other relics of more obvious value. [9] See _The Severn Valley_, by John Randall, 1882, and _Archæologia_, iii. 112, quoted by him. {6} Colonel Edward Gatacre and his only son, born in 1806 (who figures as the Squire in this narrative), were specimens of the best type of country gentleman of their day. The former was twentieth in direct descent from Sir William de Gatacre of the twelfth century, and was grandfather to Sir William, the hero of this story. The pedigree shows that through the centuries the family had maintained their status as gentle-folk, and had allied themselves with other families of the same standing in the neighbouring counties. Both were men of remarkable activity and considerable cultivation. With the advent of railways came the facility for travel, of which the younger man was quick to avail himself. He visited London every year, and among other men of renown knew Sir Francis Grant, P.R.A., and persuaded him to come and paint the portrait of his father that still hangs at Gatacre--a beautiful picture. He also went abroad, and made a pilgrimage to Rome in the old days when people travelled in their own carriages, making a long stay at many places of interest in Switzerland and Italy. [Sidenote: Forbes]