A TRIP ABROAD.

Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXIII, Issue 10, 9 May 1912, Page 3

A TRIP ABROAD.

(By “Traveller.”) Maploton Church near Ashbourne i very quaint, and unlike any other i the district, having a peculiar dome like belfry and being partly coven.', by ivy. It is surprising what a nine her of elderly people there are in th country districts who have never bees away from the smoko, of their owi chimneys, and that with all the faci! ities for railway travelling, too. Tin wants of these, simple-minded folk an few and are easily satisfied. They don’ profess to know anything much of tin outside world, and one might as wcl talk to them of Timbucioo as Nov Zealand, for they know absolutely no thing about it. The two following clip pings from recent numbers of tin. Daily Mail bear upon the point: “Tin death is anonunccd at Colkirk, neai Fakeniiam,Suffolk,of Mrs Dinah Sump ter in her 102nd year. She had lived ir the village all her life, and had only been away for a fortnight’s holiday once.” “Miss Eliza Coomber, of Chid- » dingstone (Kent), who was 103 on Tuesday, has never seen the saa. Ho: brother fought in the buttle of "Waterloo.” Many of the farm implements in use are old fashioned and not up-to-date. In fact, it seems as if new ideas are not taken kindly to. “They did for mi feyther and granfoyther and they’ll do for me” appears to lie the idea. Which means that the pro pie are very conservative. An ok 1 song, “The Old Wooden Plough,” illustrates this. These three verses will give a good idea of the gist of it:— “Twor the tenth of October and th’ oats wor just ripe, On the settle he sot, and he smoked his long pipe, And lie thought a long time about this thing and that, And said ‘Tommy sit down and I’ll • toll what’s what “ ‘Wi’ their bones and their acids, their drills and gu-hanner, Thi graudfeyther, Tom, niver farmed !’ that manner. He’h ha’ stared hard enough if he’d heard what they say About boiling o’ oil-cakes and chop ping o’ hay. “‘Then Tommy, my lad, never heed what they say; Put git thee on still i’ thy feyther’s oud way, They’ll bring all their hogs to fine markets just now, But stick while thee lives to the old 'Wooden Plough. ’ ” If one should remark upon the healthy appearance of the boys and girls in tliis- district, the reason given is invariably? “lumpytums.” “Oh, yes if a child is wqakly it mun have plenty lumpytums and then.” “And then” is a provincialism, and to the uninitiated sounds like an unfinished sentence, and one is inclined to ask and then what? Sometimes it is intended for a sort of threat. When packing her boy off to school a mother (will say, “If yon play th’ truant I’ll tell th’ schoolmaster and then.” The late Georgs Heath, the Moorland Poet, has it in the first verse of a pathetic piece he wrote while on his death* bed “Prop me up w ith my-pillows, sweet sister, and Just open the casement, and close the room door, And let me look out on the landscape again, And breathe the pure air of the summer once more.” Lumpytums have been mentioned. This is a breakfast dish (always spoken of as “they”) and takes the place of porridge in this part of the country, it is made by sprinkling dry oatmeal into boiling milk and 1 was informed that there is a great nack in making it properly. There ip a rustic ballad often sung at carnival meetings which sets forth the virtues of lumpytums. The following story told by a traveller is apropos to the old wooden plough. Ho relates that whqn calling at a farmer’s house to inquire the road to a certain village the hospitable occupant pressed him to stay, as it was late in the day and he would direct him in the morning. After supper two boys, sons of his host, remained in the room so as not to lose any of the conversation that .might take place. Presently the father said to the younger hoy, “Tommy go bed,” whereupon Tommy pulled off his hoots and socks, licked his thumb, and rubbed it on each of his small toes! Then said “good-night” and disappeared. Shortly after Johnny was told to “go bed,” and ho followed suit and retired. After the host had explained where his guest’s bed was, ibe thought he’d “go bed,” and went’ through the same performance of salivating his toes as his sons had done. Tins aroused the traveller’s curiosity, ia.nd in the morning he made bold to ask the why and the wherefore, intimating that it was evidently a charm against corns. “Well,” said the farmer, “my hoys do it because they see me, I do it because my feyther did it, he learned it from grad feyther and—well, no, it ain’t any cure for corns, but if I didn’t do it—wdl, I, don’t think 1 could sleep o’ nights.” The following notice under the licensees’ names on inns and hotels hero reads peculiar: “Licenced to retail wines, beer and tobacco, to hr consumed on the premises.” The wines and beer might he all right, hut a plug of Derby or Cavandish, nr fig of Negrohcad would upset the digestion somewhat. Quaint and interesting inscriptions have been touched upon, here is one on the village blacksmith of Alderley:— “My sledge and my hammer lie declin’d, My 1 allows, ton, have lost their wind, My fi re’s extinct, my forge decayed, My vice is in the dust all laid; My coal is spent, my iron gone, . "My nails are drove, my work is doin', | My tiro-dried corpse lies here at rest,

My soul, smokc-like, soars to the blest.”

While iu Leek 1 attended two dravn-

atic performances, “A Thief in the Night,” and “A Girl driven to Destruction.” Both, very well played, though the latter was rather Jong. Now for the prices of admission : -Id, Gd, 9d, and Is! In conversation with one of the actors he informed me that, cheap train fares, the closeness of the towns, and vhe large pojtvlatiou were factors that enabled them to play for suck prices. There was an exhibition and sale in this town of artificial flowers made by blind and crippled girls from one of the large London homes. The many specimens exhibited were simply splendid and equal to anything we had seen anywhere. A word upon the names of places in this country. If it is possible’ to miscall or mispronounce the name of a town fae people Lets soon to find a wav to do it. In fact, main

places as Rotten Row, Covent Garden, etc., have completely lost their identity through being mis-called or nick named. Regarding the former, a person once remarked that “considering there was nothing rotten about that line drive it was a very rotten name to give it.” About the latter, people will tell you that they know it should bo Convent Garden. Then why change it for a word of no sense or meaning? In this county Morridge, Bosley, Hakesler, Wilberclough and Redderhurst arc the mutilations of Moor Ridge, Boar’s Leigh, Hawksleigh, Wild Boar Clough (where the wild hoar roamed) and Red Doer Hurst! Probably—no insinuation intended—the name of the capital of this Dominion would be cut down to Wetton! The pleasure of our stay in this district was enhanced by the kindness and hospitality of many friends. There are many things in England that appeal to one, amongst them the excellence of the train and postal arrangements, the many plea-

sure resorts, etc., but the journey from here is a long one, and •there are risks. Perhaps in the immediate future we shall be able to travel by airships and then.