CHAPTER XX.

Scenic Surprises-An Inviting Road-A Ruined Windmill-RooksLittle Waltham-Broomfield-An Old Friend-Rain versus Dust -Writtle-Picturesque Essex-Curious Mist Effect-Nearly an Accident-Chipping Ongar--An Old Saxon Wooden Church-A Pleasant Footpath-Names of Places-An Edifying Conversation -Clerk-hunting.

AFTER leaving the hamlet of Leigh we drove through a very pretty country. Our road that day abounded in scenic surprises; we passed, as we journeyed on, many an old time-toned home, each one seeming, were it possible, more picturesque than the last. The landscape bore a mellow, humanised aspect; the works of man were manifest on every hand; from the tall spire of the distant church, to the furrowed field by the side of the way, these human associations gave an added interest to the evervarying prospect. A livable, lovable land it seemed to us-a land of ancient peace that had never been disturbed by the railway whistle, that had not had its century-gathered beauty spoilt by the triumphs of commercial enterprise, that knew nothing of the fevered hurry and rush of the outer money-making world a bit of real old England, looking much now even as it did in those long-vanished days when our easy-going, port-wine-loving ancestors passed through it by coach. Each bend in the road re

A PLEASANT ROAD.

361

vealed some new beauty, always delightfully surprising us by presenting what we least expected. A sort of vague sensation took possession of us, as though we were travellers exploring some strange far-off land; for where all before you is unknown, all things appear possible. An inviting road it was, that seemed to beckon us on and on with the promise of some fresh treat at every turn; it never wholly belied its promise, yet never quite satisfied our anticipations; it ever kept us in a delicious state of expectancy. How bewitchingly beautiful the sweet landscape looked that day, bathed in the soft golden light of the summer sunshine! If there is a fairer country than England, it has yet to be discovered.

At one spot we came upon a forlorn-looking hostel that had evidently seen better days. Probably, when it was more prosperous, it was less picturesque. From a large bay window in this, a great old lamp projected in a curious manner, doubtless serving of old to show benighted travellers the whereabouts of the inn, and possibly as well to throw a light upon the coach change.'

Then, as we drove along in a delicious day-dream, we came upon an old windmill, long since past all work, looking sadly deserted and desolate on its lonely height, its two remaining great black sails bent and broken, standing gauntly out like two giant's arms against the bright silvery sky. There was something almost pathetic about that battered and useless windmill, its days of labour over, left thus to slow but sure decay. There it stood, solitary and forsaken, still bravely facing all the

storms and winds of heaven, the hands who raised it dead and gone, and perhaps their very names forgotten.

Amongst the many old-world structures that we passed, one especially delighted us—an exceedingly picturesque farmstead with a little colony of irregular roofed timber and brick outbuildings. Amongst these we noticed some quaint oast-houses that are such a characteristic and familiar feature in hop-growing Kent, but uncommon in this part of England. A large duck-pond in the farmyard doubled the ancient building on its stilly surface. Around were great wide-spreading elms, amongst which the rooks were holding a noisy argument; but, not understanding their language, we could not make out what it was all about; manifestly, however, some important matter was under discussion. What a charm a rookery gives to a country home! Inharmonious and noisy though the clamouring of rooks may be when analysed, I have never yet come across a single person who objects to it, or indeed to whom it fails to give pleasure. Do rooks really caw, caw, caw,' as is generally accepted? After listening long and attentively to their utterances, it seems to me that the sounds they give forth are more nearly rendered by 'queer, queer, qw-oar,' the last utterance being the most prolonged and distinct.

The next village on our road was Little Waltham, a charming hamlet situated in a wooded valley, and by the side of a small fishful-looking river just large enough to merit that title; this stream we crossed by an ancient bridge. We

A FICTURESQUE VILLAGE.

363

observed some picturesque half-timbered cottages here that give a pleasing individuality to the place. The clustering village homes, both great and small, are happily and effectually grouped, the outcome of accident, but none the less delightful for that; an artist could scarcely of set purpose have grouped them better-if as well. The light and shade too, caused by the irregular building of the cottages, added greatly to the picture. A square house with no nonsense about it,' and no homelike beauty either for that matter, no suggestiveness of cosy rooms in odd corners—an uncompromising square house, standing either singly by itself or in a terrace, how flat and uninteresting it seems for want of the changeful play of light and shade, varying each hour as the sun goes round! So well did the builders of old understand and strive for the picturesque relief caused by light and shade, that often you will find in their houses the carvings upon the north side, where there is less sun, to be bolder and deeper cut than on the others; partially for this purpose also they sought for irregularity, and were careful to avoid studied uniformity.

A few more miles, without much of particular interest on the way, brought us to the cheerful-looking village of Broomfield, which is built around a pleasant green. This village playground was in the possession of a happy, laughing group of children, whose sun-tanned faces contrast so with the pale visages of the little ones in the London alleys and slums, with only the roadway and thronged pavement for their sports. How much better the working

man's family are off in the country, with a village green to romp upon, or perhaps even the more extensive common to run and chase each other over, with sometimes fields to wander about, and blackberrying, nutting, and birdsnesting all in their season! Even the poorest cotter's child in the country has the benefit of breathing the fresh air that, at any rate, belongs to rich and needy alike.

The quaint old church here stands at one end of the green. Its massive flint tower is round; it was like coming unexpectedly upon an old friend to see a round tower again (such a familiar feature to us in the Norfolk landscape). This is manifestly of great antiquity, and we were surprised to find one of so uncommon a form in these parts. The body of the church appeared completely. restored, but, with the exception of an added steeple, the tower has apparently suffered but little change.

The churchyard here has a cared-for look that pleased us much; ornamental trees are planted in it; the tombstones are not given wholly over to decay; the gravel walks are well kept. If not 'so beautiful as to make one in love with death,' at least it has not that melancholy, depressing appearance that many country churchyards have, with their rank grass, moss-grown tombstones, and neglected, weedy paths, often these leading right over some memorial slab, the inscription effaced, the very stone worn concave by the tread of the heedless living.

The village public' at Broomfield bears the grand title of the Royal Arms'-the first time, as