The house of a linen draper in the town sank one-fifth of its height
between the years 1881 and 1891, and in the seven years since it has
sunk nearly another fifth. One kitchen window looks out on the river,
and the water is now but a few inches below the window sill. When I saw
it the moon was shining on the water, making the scene singularly
effective. At one time the kitchens were lofty rooms, now one can hardly
stand upright in them, for the floors and the walls have not kept pace.
Another house I saw had eight steps of one foot each down to the front
door. Not many years ago the doorstep was on the road level. An
ironmonger's shop floor has sunk six feet in a similar way. One side of
the floor is describing a semicircle, and the walls have long been
cracked.
The "Crown and Anchor," the chief hotel in the place, had to be rebuilt,
for to walk its floors was "like being at sea in a heavy gale." The
floor of the dining-room had sunk so much that it was several feet below
the level of the roadway, and the windows afforded a beautiful view of
passing feet.
[Illustration: _T. Birtles photo._] [_Warrington._