ill their
sites with brick boxes, "likely indeed and all alike."

Itineraries of the Georgian period when mentioning Saffron Walden
describe the houses as being of "mean appearance,"[16] which remark,
taking into consideration the debased taste of the times, is
significant. A perfect holocaust followed, which extending through
that shocking time known as the Churchwarden Period has not yet spent
itself in the present day. Municipal improvements threaten to go
further still, and in these commercial days, when combined capital
under such appellations as the "Metropolitan Co-operative" or the
"Universal Supply Stores" endeavours to increase its display behind
plate-glass windows of immodest size, the life of old buildings seems
painfully insecure.

[16] _Excursions in Essex_, published in 1819, states: "The old
market cross and gaol are taking down. The market cross has long
been considered a nuisance."

A good number of fine early barge-boards still remain in Saffron
Walden, and the timber houses which have been allowed to remain speak
only too eloquently of the beauties which have vanished. One of these
structures--a large timber building or collection of buildings, for
the dates of erection are various--stands in Church Street, and was
formerly the Sun Inn, a hostel of much importance in bygone times.
This house of entertainment is said to have been in 1645 the quarters
of the Parliamentary Generals Cromwell, Ireton, and Skippon. In 1870,
during the conversion of the Sun Inn into private residences, some
glazed tiles were discovered bricked up in what had once been an open
hearth. These tiles were collectively painted with a picture on each
side of the hearth, and bore the inscription "W.E. 1730," while on one
of them a bust of the Lord Protector was depicted, thus showing the
tradition to have been honoured during the second George's time.[17]
Saffron Walden was the rendezvous of the Parliamentarian forces after
the sacking of Leicester, having their encampment on Triplow Heath. A
remarkable incident may be mentioned in connexion with this fact. In
1826 a rustic, while ploughing some land to the south of the town,
turned up with his share the brass seal of Leicester Hospital, which
seal had doubtless formed part of the loot acquired by the rebel army.

[17] These tiles have now found a place in the excellent local museum.

The Sun Inn, or "House of the Giants," as it has sometimes been
called, from the co