St. Michael and the Dragon. As I came into the rich gloom of the nave
I noticed for the first time that I had one of those white poppies in
my hand; I must have taken it out of the pot by the window as I passed
out of Will Green's house.

The nave was not very large, but it looked spacious too; it was
somewhat old, but well-built and handsome; the roof of curved wooden
rafters with great tie-beams going from wall to wall. There was no
light in it but that of the moon streaming through the windows, which
were by no means large, and were glazed with white fretwork, with here
and there a little figure in very deep rich colours. Two larger
windows near the east end of each aisle had just been made so that the
church grew lighter toward the east, and I could see all the work on
the great screen between the nave and chancel which glittered bright
in new paint and gilding: a candle glimmered in the loft above it,
before the huge rood that filled up the whole space between the loft
and the chancel arch. There was an altar at the east end of each
aisle, the one on the south side standing against the outside wall,
the one on the north against a traceried gaily-painted screen, for
that aisle ran on along the chancel. There were a few oak benches
near this second altar, seemingly just made, and well carved and
moulded; otherwise the floor of the nave, which was paved with a
quaint pavement of glazed tiles like the crocks I had seen outside as
to ware, was quite clear, and the shafts of the arches rose out of it
white and beautiful under the moon as though out of a sea, dark but
with gleams struck over it.

The priest let me linger and look round, when he had crossed himself
and given me the holy water; and then I saw that the walls were
figured all over with stories, a huge St. Christopher with his black