HOME AGAIN.

Dominion, Volume 6, Issue 1576, 21 October 1912, Page 8

HOME AGAIN.

SOME ENGLISH IMPRESSIONS. THE COMELY LAND. (By S. V. Bracher.) Wlncanton, Somerset, Sept. i. Softly curved hills, diversely patterned with dark hedges and groen, whiteybrown and dull golden fields, all dreaming under a pale haze, such, from a porthole of the liner that had brought us half-way around the world, was our first sight of England. Was it Dorsetshire or Hampshire? We disputed the point with fellow-passengers, but all we really cared to know was that this was England—different from all other countries, and if not fairer, yet somehow dearer. Inscrutable too—known and yet unknown, familiar to both of us from childhood, yet vast within her narrow seas, mysterious even in her mapped acres and inspected rtreets. Up to the day of our departure, twelve years ago, we had been only beginning to know her. Wo were aware that during our absence she—and we also —had changed. Would England still be homo to us? What sort of an understanding could be come to between this new England and our altered selves? Our trip to what is still called the Old Country was a voyage of discovery. But, assuredly, sho welcomed us. Looking from tho windows of tho express that took us from Southampton to London, we saw, in the dim twilight, tho 6hapes of hills, trees, and hedgerows that seemed gentler, richer, friendlier than any we had known beyond the seas. Many of the houses, with their weathered walls of brick or stone, were inexpressibly homelike, and even the cheap and vulgar ones seemed well-intentioned.

The Pleasantness of London. Since that first evening of our return, the general impression or comeliness and friendliness has spread and deepened. Even London, is almost a pleasant place. Wo were prepared to find that, the electrification of the underground had given the traveller comfort and enjoyment instead of torture, but it was with a pleased surprise that when we looked out of the windows ia those spaces where the line is open to the sky, we found that their odd angles had been filled with bright little flower beds. Then, too, the streets are cleaner and less noisy since the coming of the motor-bus nnd taxi. I do not lniow whether the peoplo have become more courteous or whether we notice it more. Nothing,/certainly could have been pleasanter in its way than tho quiet interposition of the stranger at tho vegetarian iestaurant, who volunteered a direction to the Kingsway Theatre, and asked, \as though to help an oversea Briton was a special pleasure. "From Australia?" And when two street urchins chirruped round mo to get a "cigarette picture," and a large policeman told them to move on, his manner was that of a kind parent afraid that his little boys are Tather,troublesome to a visitor.

These friendly ways are, of course, not new, but what is new, and yet seems to go quite naturally with them, is n greater freedom in some of the little things of life. The disappearance of the top-hat and freck coat from London streets is notorious. But that is not all. In the short journey by taxi from London Bridge Station to Liverpool Street, we counted seventy men and boys who were not wearing hats of any kind. Uniformity in tho matter of clothing is passing away. Even "city men" dress almost as they please and look comparatively comfortable. Wo saw many fashionable women, without hats, on the parade at Brighton.. Some people attribute the new liberty to the influence of the lato King Edward, and some to the hot summer of 1911. Down hero, in Somerset, where folk never did dress "up to the nines," as they say, on week-days, a similar change, though not so striking, is noticeable. The few hatlesa ones, of both sexes, are not stared at, as once they would have been. The church-going black is not of such rigid obligation as of old. Even tho layreader, when wo went to our parish church, had a tweed suit under his surplice. The Little Town and the Picture Postcard. ~ ■ The atreots of this little ancient town seem cleaner and neater than ever. Most of tho doors and window-frames are newly painted. Houso-fronts that used to be covered with stucco, now show their good honest Cheriton stone. Pink, white, and yellow flowers arc abloom in boxes on many of the window-ledges, tney hang in baskets from' inn-signs, they sprout from tubs over tho portico of a shop. There is even a gay little roofgarden overlooking the Market Place. Wincanton was always picturesque, lying upon its hillside, with its brown roofs and crooked streets, but of late years it has added those brightening touches that betray a new 6elf-consciousness. Evidently it has been discovered. Few travellers, J. suppose, have made, like Mr. Tickner Edwardes, on unpremeditated stay of thirtysix horns in this place, but many must have felt something of that ancient, quiet, and simple charm to which he has testified in "Lift-Luck on Southern fioads." The picture post-card and the motor-car are the most readily assignable causes of Wincanton's awakening to its own attractiveness. And, of course, what is true of one little town is true of thousands of others. The picture post-card is everywhere. No house in town or country is Becure from illustration. Thus, there is an incentive to ruako things as pioturesque as possible. Just as a woman grows more comely by repeatedly looking her best in her mirror, so, I suppose, a town becomes, according to its capacities, tidier, or handsomer, or quainter, or more beautiful, through seeing itself so often in picture post-cards. ! The Motor-car People—and the Others,

Some of the post-cards are bought by the residents, but more, I suppose, by tho motorists. It is also largely for these that the floral decorations arc accomplished. A few of their big touring cars pass through tho town every day, for it lies on one of the main roads from London to Exeter. The two principal hotels vie with each other in catering for them, but tho shopkeepers do not think tho new traffic has added much to the trade of the town. Tho population (about 2000) lias oertainly (though whether froni this cause or some other I do not know) increased a little. The car has undoubtedly done something to check the much-lamented dopopulation of the countryside. I was told at Milborne Port (which, of courmj, is not a port at all, but just another little inland Somersetshire town) that six gentlemen's residences had been built of quite recent years within a few miles of the Town Hall. Tho neighbourhood was pleasant and inexpensive, and there was gaod hunting, while the distance from everywhere did not matter much- to people with a car. I do not find that the cars have spoilt the pleasure of a country walk. They keep to the main roads, which the true walker has always studiod to avoid. The cyclist, with the aid of maps newly provided for the purpose, is now exploiting the cross-roads, and hopiug that the motorist will not venture to follow him into their narrow places and around their sharp elbows. The motor traffic has led to a great improvement in the road surfaces, and everybody benefits a little from that, but in the interstices of this net of pleasuretraffic, and even within tho hourly smell of its petrol, the old life of the countryside changes but slowly. Tho squire and the parson may have more society, but tho farmer and his lnbourer go on pretty much as before—for the present. Revolutionary changes aro promised—or threatened. ' But revolutionary changes were threatened or promised a generation ago— and still tho farmer complains that fanning doesn't pay, and still the labourer gets low wages, nnd in spite of his wife's miracles of thrift, she and her children are ill-nourished, and tho workhouse looms ahead. Gentle Speech. But, although they aro the theme just now of so many clamant voices of poli' tician, philanthropist, and agitator, these peasants have not lost their own gentle but friendly manners. Sweet indeed it was, after our twelve long years of absence (I might lmvo written "exile." if it had been anywhere but in New Zealand), to hear English spoken with tho softened syllables and quiot, easeful tones that aro Heard only in tho "West. To write or sny "Zunimorzet." does not convey the most distant hint of the charm that pervaded the talk o[ the young labourer whom I met tu Hi" Bank Holiday excursion train. PerluDs, from the Kuw. Zeidaud. jobit of

view, his manner was too respectful, cortninly, there was no traco of the s?lfassertive, almost defiant air which is noticeable in nil new countries. Tu mo it Boomed to reveal a native gentleness and refinement. It led me to desire tbnt tho economic lwtterment of our peasantry may be achieved without wholly vulgarising them. And I say this, not from the tourist or picture po'st-card point of view, but as one who knows that manners are the efflux of tlio soul.