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Show f UaIemais Uapderips, H ODD INCIDENTS OF1 KOK1SION TRAVBL AND H . ODSI3KVA.TION. m London, April lo, 8o. In my pie- m ceding ankle on English villages and M Ihtir folk, I Rie some account of seven B f English villages, ami ilicse in merest (outline. Seven hundred Is truly nearer the number I have personally visited Kacli one could furnish through leisurely It study, for brush or pen, abundant Hfl material fori winsome volume. Bl Some writer would have us believe M that l'nglhh villages were things of the past; Uiat rural England had completely W gone to decay; that the smoke of M factory-stacks hung like a pall over the B . remains of all that Is mellow and old B and Rood, that the thunders of the mills had drowned all the dear old country H sounds; that commercial I ngland with hard and cruel hand had effaced almost the last vestige of the erst sweet and H charming countr) sides, and that brick fl and Iron, stone and slcel, conl and llrummagem, varied now and then by 1 nobleman's demesne or gentleman's H seat, were the characteristic features of 1 an Lnglish landscape. 1 As goodly a proportion of Fngliih as B, American people have come to accept H this as true. Hut It is astoundingly false, H as any one who will really saunter, not H rush, about 1 ngland may know. Hooks 1 are largely responsible lor this r ngllsh H fiction, like Ameilcan fiction, of from a 1 half century to a century ago was 1 replete with pictures of village life and 1 character. When Charlotte llronte hid 1 doit n her pen, and the labor of George B Lliot who was to the early Victorian 1 age, at least in degree, what Shak H speare was to the Ulnbethan was H (lone, mastership in this school of delinc- H ntlon seemed to cease H Neither America nor England has H since produced a Jasting work of fiction H upon rural scenes and lowly folk. H 1 Novelists have wallowed in altruism, H 1 psychological phenomena, subtleties of H j! crime and Its detection, hideous salad- I ousness, positive and comparative H religion, the heroics of agnosticism and B infidelity and In the shredded and be- H draggled warp and wool of ultra intense Hi metropolitan life, fao those who rely on ni Intelligent fiction to relied reality have H VI felt that the 1 ngllsh village and Its folk S had surely passed away, Wt Again, the greit world of activities H I has come constantly to Intelligent ntlcn- H lion, through the press, the reviews and 1 , through statistical volumes, largely to H I the exclusion of the great underlilng world of (act and sentiment In America the stupendous affairs and progress of H our great cities have almost obliterated H the memory of some of the sweetest H old nooks in all the world the historic H and beautllul hamlets of New Engl ind, P, of the eastern and even of the southern M and middle states. Yet they are all lust H-- as they once were, prettier and tenderer H for their penslveness and Increasing age. H ' Here, similarly, everything is London, H Leeds, llirmlngham, Manchester, Liver- H pool, 1 lull, and that host of practically H new manufacturing towns and elites of H Yorkshire and Lancashire. H The American commercial mind and the Tnehsh commerclil mind have heard for a (jiiarter of a century of naught else than their Ingots and spindles, pottery and looms, fabrics and ships, lock ouis and walk-outs, depression depress-ion and their tremendous trade superlatives super-latives of every hard and harassing description Hut the material and literary fact still remains that all the tlvousands of ancient I nglish villages, and with not n half hundred exceptions, are here just as they cre at the beginning of the century, and just as we have pored over them In the best old works of English fiction. Not only this, but hundreds of modern villages with winsome olden architecture in the habllament of l.lln-bclhan l.lln-bclhan and even earlier Tudor times, enriched with luxurious parking and Intelligent floriculture, and windows filled with ruddy I nglish hecs, have been nddded to the mossier olden stock. Even In the congested dMricts of I-ancashlrc, Yorkshire, norlliern Warwickshire, War-wickshire, Staflorddilre and Shropshire not nil ancient vlilige his pissed (torn sight, live where a town or city has frown within and around It, and, where ictory towns are so thick that clusters of chimney stacks crowd every ncre of the horlion like glint spears above some mighty encircling camp, there between still stands the ancient hamlets, more witching for the grimy fellowship of trade, and endless solice to eye and heart of those who ceaseless toll. Therefore when the lively Amcrlcin who "docs" England In a week tells us thit the rural Lngland of literature is no more, he tells us what perhaps some Hyde Tirk orator, railway station porter or traveling salesman has told him, but still sometning which he does not know; and when the London literary dilettante fills upon and disposes of rural England In a single breciy magazine article or smart review, he commits for a needed stipend of ten or twenty pounds little short of literary crime Such ns these and better still all those who love the truly beautiful and win-somely win-somely picturesque In any lmd, without seeking Quixotic quests among political and social problems, should cerlalnly pats at least one summer among I ng-llih ng-llih villages Hundreds can be found even along the lines of railway. Leaving, Leav-ing, these at any station, by coach, by trap, upon bicycle, or more advantageously advantage-ously and fuller of elation than all, on your own good legs, every fine old hedge bordered highway will furnish you an astounding revelation In every half-day's drive or walk. What wondrous Journeying Into the past are thus afforded What splendid fiagcs of history are thus reopened for t has been in and about English villages rither than In towns Hut English history has been made. What challenges challen-ges are prompted to the great and the immortal to come from their wralthtinds and walk beside you where they onca dwelt. And how jou find thit all sou knew of books has Inexpressibly licked In the true color and leeling until you thus wed presence and actuality with the toneless tale of wordsl The weilth of number of these olden villages in Kent alone would confound the Dryasdusts and the Iconoclasts of rural I ngland. It Is with a thrill of delight that you wander through Salt wood, peeping out between Icify hills upon the glorious sea, Lymlnge, mossy and still beside the most ancient churih of southern Kent, so undent that In Its walls are actuilly seen every specimen of ecclesiastic architecture from baxon to Perpendicular, so ancient still that St. I dilbergan, one of its pitron silnts and diughter of the Saxon King rthelfaert, who reigned more than r an tears ngo, lies buried within. Lrith with it unique old house, lis winding lines of green, banks of chalk, shadowy combes and tender uplands, Cobham. leafiest, snuggest snug-gest and prettiest of all Kentish villages, with Its lordly pirk, Its stalely towered churches and brasses of Coo )eirs In memory of the noble Cohhim, and its ' Leather Dottle" inn mule fimous In the Immortal piges nf l'ickwlck, beautiful beauti-ful old Shorne, girdled with missive elms and richest 1 rchird bloom, and n hundred more, act along the lane girt dow ns, clustering In the w oody Weld, or nestling among the Kentish orchards and hop gardens, with their rows of cottages cot-tages with white wished walls, dormer windows, thatched roofs and garden fronts each a mazo of fuschlas, pinks, carnations and roses, and all of them from a hundred to a thousand cars old Who Is there to filly describe or piint the droning old village of that curious 1 nglish region variously known as the ' Norfolk llroads." "The Ilroul District ' and tile ' Norfolk and Suffolk I ene," where, as at Dllham and Ruston, many an old daub-ami wattle cottage may still be seen? It Is a lmd of lagoons, of firasiy dikes, of ghostly wind mills ns luge and as numerous as In Holland, of rich and low lying firm steadings interspersed inter-spersed by "broids" of sedg), shallow lakes, of mighty herds of cattle and sheep; of duck, widgeon, millard and coot, ol picturesque inns-ofcalt lulf hidden among copse ol willows, of ruined castles, nbbejs and priories whose ancient moats are now serving as market girdeners cinals, of gny ol I hamlet set about with clumps ol pollard oaks; and of a peasantry as simple, brave nnd true as In good old Sir John 1'astoir day nntblnkspeare' uncilous knave of the "Merry l es," but of the real I astolf ulio alorsosly (ought the battle of Herrings and soundly drubbed ttm l-rench. Tho eventide pictures from some of these old waterside hamlet porches are worthy the brush of a Turner or a. Millet. As the sun goes down In lorcstsof waling wal-ing reeds, it flimcs the Hutches of hamlets on opposite shores, weirdly lights the arms of the spectral windmills, wind-mills, bringing to a looming nearness the grim Norman towers of hr olden churches, or gilds the ivied lop ol some medxlval ruin as Willi cold. A It sinks from sight the waters of the Ilroids are for a m mient purple, then pitchy black, when Instantly the stars aro shining in the depths above and from the waters beneath with a shimmering luster enveloping all. Then the songs and chirps of mrlad Insects, thewhirrand splash of late-homing water fowl; and the witching, whispered soughing of the breeze In the rushes nnd the reeds. Up In Cumberlind and Westmoreland, what loving wraiths of memory arc con- Iured when basking In the glowing icauly of slumberous, verdure clad, blossom bowcred Keswick, Grasmerc Kydil, Ambleside audllownessl Here in old Keswick town dwelt and sing, nnd lie burled In Crossthwaite church- sard, near the murmurings ol the Greta, lie so loved, that hlgh-soulcd poet or pensive remembrance nnd meditative cilm, Robert bouthcy Here loo, the unhappy Coleridge passed the most fruitful, though still the most miserable, sear of hi baleful slavery to a deadly I drug, and with his girl wife, Harriet, Shelly here knew the only happy hours of his unfortunate life. In am lent Gras-mere Gras-mere Grismerc ol ancient 'rush bearing" bear-ing" fame, Grasmerc with terhaps the oldest and certainly the quilntest church In 1 ngland, Grasmere where the brave old dame soundly walloped the I rlnce ol Wales for ' harrying' her sheep, Thomas De rjulnce) lived In his dream-life dream-life madness, and In St Oswald churchyard sleep Hartley Colerldgo nnd William Wordsworth, beside the bciutiou Kothay, which, leaping Irom sequestering meadows, glve-i back along the old church wall the deathless songs they sung. That one whose memory gives to the orgin tones of the two cascidcs of Kvdal their wondrous heart Unfiling power, who is first and list when jour eyes of fancy penctrited the past, I Wordsworth, who lived on Kvilil mount, above the hamlet, for forty sunlit years Sturdy, Iconoclastic, jet true and pracllcilly Chri llan If still heretic, Harriet Matltncau stands bright, clear In the picture among the blossoms of songful Ambleside. Christopher North with his huge frame ind benign face, ns if the very spirit of the lovely region shone from his kindly ejes, makes these village ways sunnier fur hit strong, sure tread With him, though liter, jou will sec another one, firm, calm, tender, noble one who through his labor at Kugby swept forever from the I Ilrllish educational sjstem the rule of brutihly and dread, lolly soled, noble Dr, Arnold, while old Hornless huddling huddl-ing between the highway and the fell-side fell-side Is sweeter still because jou see through lis tiny cottage pines tho wraith of good relicia llctnans, with a tinge of sidness In her pallid, pitlent face ricasint indeed Is n weeks Idle loitering loiter-ing among the vllliges of Surrey, Some of the most picturesque timbered cot-tigesof cot-tigesof Inglt d can be found 'among tlicso ancient hamlets Sleepy old Godalming wis once n nest of fullers' homes, and numbers of these liabltitlons are still in good preservation. At bhere, the former home of the earli of OrmonJ and the noble house of Audley, nnd roundibout arc uondrously Interesting lanes of cottages Ilcsldes, there are Woncrsh, with lis fine gable and chtmnc) and charming picturesque old mill house; Haslemerc with Its high nnd graceful chlmnejs; Chlddlngford, where gins was first made In I ngland, with its line fourteenth century cottiges and famous old Crown Inn, Witley, with it church tower surmounted by a spire ns quilnt as that of btode I'oges, and its cottiges which are In every artist' sketchbook, Afford, most primitive of burrcy villages, with its curious Ironwork Iron-work and moits, and, with score more, winiome old Cranlcigh, where, nt Hay-nards, Hay-nards, Jane Koper, wife of the jounger Sir I dwird liny, so long kept the head of her father, 111 fated SlrThonn .More, which wa finally deposited In St Dus tan, Canterbury, You will never heed tho pissing hours If, nfloit upon the Avon, jou set out Inquest of 1 ngllsh village within the western shires The thatche of the. liimlet lean every where along the Avon almost to the river's brink. You will have no need for nn Inn With your yeomin companion you will be .welcomed everywhere nt night among the village peasantry. Hy and by jou coma to the vales among the Cotswold. Then will you see hamlets and villages dotting the valleys, imbedded in gardens, gard-ens, perched upon the heights, in tellings of orchards, wiving fields within checkered lines of hawthorn hedges or denser row of limes, and these In turn backed by bmks of forest primeval, all In such droning quiet, ample content and smiling opulence tint, full of thewincy exultation of it, all, jou again and again irresistibly cxclilm, Here Is Arcady at list" In Lssex one could wander lor a whole summer nnd never tire of It mossy nook like Thaxled with It long, triggllng street of many gabled homes, it exquisite church, its strange Moot Halt and It noble relic, Ilorham Hall, Cogshall, with Its mouldering abbey ruins and curious "Woolpack" Inn; Saffron Walden, hot-bed of Essex superstitions, with Its ruined ci tie, wonderful old houses and antique Sun Inn which has set tho I sscx anllqe-T. lans endlessly by the earl, Finchlngficld with its lumble of cottages plied one upon another and Its quilnt timber-built timber-built almshouses, like those of Coventry; St Usvih, with its remarkable church, splendid old priory and msrvelously beautiful gatehouse, and Little Dunmow, straggling, tiny himlct that It Is, but fimous the world over for Its olden 'Mitch of Ilicon" prize for conjugal felicity. And If nil these were not enough to mike jou know tho Indescribably interesting inter-esting and beautiful rural I ngland of today, come here where the slilres of Ducks, Herks and Surrey Join, nnd saunter saun-ter for but a day round about royal Windsor, At Chcrtscj, but nine miles distant, once fimous for Its abbey, lived and tiled the poet Cowley, while Albert Smith, author ol ' Christopher Tadpole" and many other charming work of fiction, wn born in the sime quaint old village, Datchet on the Thames, about a mile from Windsor, has the rcmilnsof n very ancient monastery; while Ditchet Meid was rendered famous hy bhik speare , In his "Merry Wives of Windsor." Dut four miles dlstint Is the quaint and sequestered vlilige of llorton In this, at Uerkjn Minor House, lived Milton, with his father and mother when they retired from business In 1632, and here wero written his "Comus," "Arcades," "Ar-cades," ' Lycldis," ' IAllegro" nnd "II I'cnserero " At old Windsor, two miles down the river, is one of the most Impressive old vew and cj press shaded churchv irds In England Its Moat firm was thi hunting seit of Stxon kings. Mrs Kobinson, the authoress and the unfortumtc I'erdita, Is burled here; nnd Its Ilcnumnnt Lodge, wis the former home of Warren Hastings Dray Is but five miles distant, up the Thames. The "Vicar of Uriv," ono Svmones, was tint spirltuilly vivacious cleric who changed his religion four times, In successive regions, that he might die In his "living " At Deacons-field, Deacons-field, to the north neir Wilton Park, wis the ome of Waller, the et, and Durke, the stitesman, HereatS'ough, two miles to tho north. Is the house occupied so long byblr William Her-scliel, Her-scliel, and jou will see heronpirt of his great forty foot telescope, while two miles further, bejond meadows green, nestling In clumps of yew and oak, Is tho olden home of tho I'cnns, near which Is llic mossy old parish church and liimlet of Stoke l'ogcs, where wis written the purest anil sweetest elegy to be found In the Lngllsh tongue 1 poar L Wakeman, |