It is pleasant, however, to find that a “brick style” is now being gradually evolved, much more suitably adapted to the material and its purposes. In the long terraces now rising on the numerous ruthless clearances are to be seen specimens treated after genuine delicate principles, that is, masses of surface, with bold, simple, and light projections, instead of the toy, or cardboard, surfaces hitherto in fashion. This new evolution is probably not intentional, and has worked itself out on fixed principles. Indeed, a diligent pilgrim through London will discover many modern, pleasing houses of brick and terra-cotta, which, if somewhat _bizarre_, have striking merit of design. A remarkable group of this kind of edifice will be found at Courtfield Gardens, near Earl’s Court. These mansions are of original and even fantastic design, being built of a yellow terra-cotta, and running wild in richness of decoration and general treatment. The porches, doorways, windows are all irregular: the work is costly and beautiful; even the steps in front are inlaid with marbles and mosaics. The visitor is taken by surprise. It is pleasant to find that the beautiful type of Bruges houses, models of endurance and grace, has been “discovered” by our architects. So simple and yet so varied is this pattern that a large volume has been published, depicting all the most notable examples. Charles Lamb complained of the gradual destruction of the antique fountains that were being abolished in his time; and in our day the lover of old London picturesqueness has to bewail the steady and certain destruction that is going on around him year by year. Old gateways, old churches, old houses, with, of course, their old doorways, are fast disappearing. The old doorways, of which there are very many in London, with their attendant lamps and railings, would not have held their place so long but for their fine, solid workmanship needing no repair. They add distinction and perhaps additional money value to the houses themselves. In Grosvenor Street, where there are many fine old mansions, there are some effective doorways which exhibit the depths, lights and shadows, and the effective air of having a door’s duty to do; while the richness of the carving in the two little “girders” that support the mouldings are wonderfully pleasing. Here we find an unpretending but most effective doorway, at No. 50, quiet and pleasing, with a fanciful carving of a Lion’s head; No. 48 is also worthy of notice. [Illustration: DOORWAY, 70, GROSVENOR STREET.]