Although the few perfect remaining examples of the old timbered Lancashire halls are preserved with the fondest reverence by their owners, the number of those which have been allowed to fall into a state of partial decay diminishes every year. They disappear, one by one, perhaps inevitably, and of many, it is to be feared, not a trace will soon be left. Repairs and restorations are expensive; to preserve such buildings needs, moreover, a strong sense of duty, and a profounder devotedness to "reliquism," as some author terms it, than perhaps can ever be expected to be general. The duty to preserve is plain. The wilful neglect, not to say the reckless destruction of interesting old buildings that can be maintained, at no great cost, in fair condition and as objects of picturesque beauty, is, to say the least of it, unpatriotic. The possessors of fine old memorials of the past are not more the possessors in their own right than trustees of property belonging to the nation, and the nation is entitled to insist upon their safe keeping and protection. The oaks of Sherwood, festooned with stories of Robin Hood and Maid Marian, are not more a ducal inheritance, than, as long as they may survive, every Englishman's by birthright. Architectural remains, in particular, when charged with historical interest, and that discourse of the manners and customs of "the lang syne," are sacred. Let opulence and good taste construct as much more as they please on modern lines. Every addition to the architectural adornment of the country reflects honour upon the person introducing it, and the donor deserves, though he may not always receive, sincere gratitude. Let the builder go further, pull down, and, if he so fancies, reconstruct his own particular work. But no man who calls himself master of a romantic or sweet old place, consecrated by time, has any right, by destroying, to steal it from the people of England; he is bound not even to mutilate it. There are occasions, no doubt, when to preserve is no longer practicable, and when to alter may be legitimate; we refer not to these, but to needless and wanton overthrow--such as unhappily has had examples only too many. There was no need to destroy that immemorial mansion, Reddish Old Hall, near the banks of the Tame, now known only through the medium of a faithful picture;[43] nor was there excuse for the merciless pulling to pieces of Radcliffe Old Hall, on the banks of the Irwell, a building so massive in its under-structure that the utmost labour was required to beat it down. We need not talk of Alaric, the Goths, and the Vandals, when Englishmen are not ashamed to behave as badly. [43] In the Chetham Society's 42nd vol., p. 211. [Illustration: DARCY LEVER, NEAR BOLTON]