Page:Life of Thomas Hardy - Brennecke.pdf/31

 You've reached the center of the town. Here is St. Peter's Church. A "grizzled church," built over the site of the Roman temple here at "Durnovaria"—a "grizzled church whose massive square tower rises unbroken into the darkening sky," a Perpendicular sanctuary, just as it was in the days of King John.

Outside is the statue of William Barnes, Rector of Winterbourne, the ghostly father of Hardy the poet and philologer—"an aged clergyman, quaintly attired in caped cloak, knee breeches and buckled shoes with a leather satchel slung over his shoulders and a stout stick in his hand." The inscription:

Within the church is the Hardy Chapel, housing two cold stone effigies, reclining mailed warriors, cross-legged knights with belt, spurs, sword, shield, helmet, all of heroic proportions. Their arms are no longer visible on their shields. Time has worn away the paint from the massive granite.

A step down the street is the Dorset County Museum. Relics of many races and civilizations in the large hall inside: a Roman tiled pavement set in the floor, flint axeheads from the Stone Age. British, Danish and Saxon weapons, a map showing the location of many and various mounds. But you don't think of the Battle of Brunanburh, nor of the fleeing King and the spider's web,