There are still some quaint objects, and odd nooks and corners in Minehead. Among these an alabaster statue of Queen Anne (deceased some time since) is prominent in the principal street: but the local experts in the art of how not to do anything properly have just enshrined it in a clumsy stone alcove affair that not only serves the intended office of shielding the statue from the weather, but also most efficiently obscures it. This figure was the work of Bird, author of the original statue of Queen Anne in front of St. Paul’s Cathedral, and was presented by Sir Jacob Banks to the town in 1719, as some sort of recognition of the honour he had for sixteen years enjoyed of representing Minehead in nine successive Parliaments, by favour of the powerful local Luttrell interest, he having in 1696 married the widow of Colonel Francis Luttrell. The statue was originally placed in the church, and the churchwardens’ accounts tell us, in this wise, how it was received: s. d. Ringing when the Queen’s effigies was 7 6 brought to the Church Paid for beer for the men that brought 2 6 in the Queen’s effigies into the Church The Quirke almshouses, in Market House Lane, form a pretty nook. Their origin is sufficiently told on the little engraved brass plate that is fixed over the central door: Robert Qvirck, sonne of James Qvirck bvilt this howse ano: 1630 and doth give it to the vse of the poore of this parish for ever and for better maintenance I doe give my two inner sellers at the Inner End of the key and cvrssed bee that man that shall convert it to any other vse then to the vse of the poore 1630. [Illustration: DOORWAY OF THE MANOR OFFICE.] Then follow the representation of a three-masted, full-rigged ship of the period, and the concluding lines: God’s providence Is my Inheritance R Q E [Illustration: MINEHEAD CHURCH.] The shaft of an ancient cross stands at one end of this row of cottages. [Illustration: THE MANOR OFFICE, MINEHEAD.] In midst of Minehead, now overshadowed by tall business premises, painfully like those to be seen any day in London, stands a charming old building, long past used as the Manor Office. The original use of the building, which appears to be of the fifteenth century, is unknown, and perhaps hardly even to be guessed at. The walls, of red sandstone, are immensely thick and stoutly buttressed, with oak-framed windows of semi-ecclesiastical design, still displaying traces of rich carving.