“In the midst of Cloisterham stands the Nuns’ House; a venerable brick edifice, whose present appellation is doubtless derived from the legend of its conventual uses. On the trim gate enclosing its old courtyard, is a resplendent brass plate flashing forth the legend, ‘Seminary for young Ladies. Miss Twinkleton.’ The house-front is so old and worn, and the brass plate is so shining and staring, that the general result has reminded imaginative strangers of a battered old beau with a large modern eye-glass stuck in his blind eye.” On the opposite side of the High Street (Nos. 146 and 147) stands Mr. Sapsea’s House. It will be remembered that we are introduced to _Mr. Thomas Sapsea_, auctioneer and Mayor of Cloisterham, in the 4th chapter of the same book, as being “the purest jackass” in the town; adopting, in his voice and style, the professional mannerism of his superiors— “Mr. Sapsea ‘dresses at’ the Dean; has been bowed to for the Dean, in mistake; has even been spoken to in the street as My Lord, under the impression that he was the Bishop come down unexpectedly, without his chaplain. Mr. Sapsea is very proud of this, and of his voice, and of his style. He has even (in selling landed property) tried the experiment of slightly intoning in his pulpit, to make himself more like what he takes to be the genuine ecclesiastical article. So, in ending a Sale by Public Auction, Mr. Sapsea finishes off with an air of bestowing a benediction on the assembled brokers, which leaves the real Dean—a modest and worthy gentleman—far behind.” Much of the humorous element of the tale is connected with this character. According to local tradition, Mr. S. is supposed to be a combination of two well-known townsmen, formerly resident in _Rochester_; a councilman who lived at the above address, and an auctioneer, once mayor of the city, over whose door the pulpit spoken of in “Edwin Drood” could have been seen— “Over the doorway is a wooden effigy, about half life-size, representing Mr. Sapsea’s father, in a curly wig and toga, in the act of selling. The chastity of the idea, and the natural appearance of the little figure, hammer, and pulpit, have been much admired.” Both the aforesaid local prototypes have departed this life some time since, and the premises have been occupied by others (equally competent, but less pretentious) of that ilk. [Picture: Restoration House, Rochester]