In point of fact, No. 21, Austin Friars was by no means a striking specimen of architecture, but having remained from the beginning practically unchanged, there were points about it worthy of record. Externally it was a plain four-storied brick structure, the only piece of decoration being a carved hood to the doorway which formed the chief entrance from Austin Friars. Passing through this, the visitor found himself in a hall, looking up a broad winding staircase with twisted balusters. To the right was the counting-house, panelled throughout with South Carolina pine. It had an old Purbeck marble mantelpiece, on the upper line of which appeared in white marble the Olmius arms,[106] quartered with those of the foreign families of Gerverdine, Cappré, Drigue, and Reynstein. The double panes above was worthy of remark as characteristic of the time of Wren. Under an arch at the end of the counting-house was a strong-room lined throughout with Dutch tiles. Mounting the staircase, one came upon the dining-room, with its ingeniously contrived cupboard, and the drawing-room, which looked out on what was, till within the last few years, the pleasant and ample garden of the Drapers’ Company, now covered, all but a fragment, with bricks and mortar. A view of this garden is given in Cassell’s ‘Old and New London,’ vol. i., p. 517, with No. 21, Austin Friars showing itself beyond the trees in the middle distance; but no reference to it is made in the letterpress. On the first-floor also, above the chief office, was a small warehouse or sample-room, an indispensable adjunct to the old merchant’s dwelling,[107] Above were capital bedrooms, while a narrow staircase gave access to the tiled roof, surrounded by a stone parapet. Retracing one’s steps to the hall, one found, flanking a passage on the side opposite to the counting-house, a lofty kitchen still furnished with smoke-jack, spit-racks, and iron caldron-holders, and adjoining the range an oven lined with blue and white Dutch tiles, no doubt a legacy of the Olmius family. Formerly, also, most of the chimneypieces in the house were fitted up with Dutch tiles, blue and white or red and white; but these in course of time had disappeared. In the basement were cellars, and close to them an old surface well, which still contained water, analyzed at the time of its destruction and found to be little better than sewage. A door in the passage was prettily carved. Through this one passed to the outer offices, a brewery, wash-house, coach-house and stables; and thence again there was access by the side-entrance into the garden,[108] a quiet spot some half acre in extent, which no doubt had originally formed part of the friars’ grounds. It was connected by steps with a narrow terrace running along the back of the house. Here in the summer of 1888 I saw fig-trees still flourishing while the work of destruction had already begun.