THE CHARM OF THE UNKNOWN.

3

of by the guide-book compiler, and never visited by the genus 'tripper.' All the more delightful these for being unknown and unfamed, for is there not a kind of fascination about a quaint or a picturesque spot that we discover for ourselves? and, moreover, does not such a spot, come upon unawares, charm us the more by its very freshness? No small matter this, in these days of personally conducted tours, when scenery is catalogued auction fashion, and all things described, even as to the best point of view, so that the ordinary tourist, armed with his faithful handbook, is fully posted up in, and duly prepared for, all he has to see, and often by anticipating too much he experiences disappointment, instead of having a pleasant surprise. Indeed, one of the special charms of road travel is the constant coming upon the unknown, the delightful state of expectancy in which the mind is ever kept, the continual wondering what new beauty the next bend in the way will reveal. Not the least of the pleasures of a driving tour are the unexpected ones.

Though so thoroughly enjoyable, I do not consider that our form of outing is by any means an expensive one. The fortunate possessors of horses must keep them somewhere, and they do not cost so very much more on the road than eating their heads off' doing nothing in their stables at home, whilst perchance their owners are absent at some fashionable watering-place, repeating their life in London second-hand by the sea, or it may be rushing about restlessly here and there, as fast as railway and steamer will carry them, spending much, travel

ling far and seeing little.

'La rapidité, voilà le rêve de notre siècle,' says Théophile Gautier. We cannot travel fast enough, we must get quickly through the country-comprehend nothing, admire nothing, only arrive quickly.' Or as our own countryman, Matthew Arnold, has it:

We see all sights from pole to pole,

And glance and nod, and bustle by,
And never once possess our soul
Before we die.

Even if, to take such a charming holiday as the one we took, it be necessary to hire a horse and conveyance, it must be remembered that the cost of hiring would include all travelling expenses; one gets, too, such a continuous enjoyment from an outing of this kind, such a constant change of scene is brought before one, the mind is always so pleasantly occupied with the many varying and interesting experiences, that ennui is a thing impossible; then the exhilarating effect of being out so long in the fresh bracing country air is a pleasure in itself and as health-giving as delightful, and, having so much to see and do, there is no further expenditure needful for amusement or for fashionable dress. Still again, the charges at the country inns, where the tourist proper is unknown, are, as a rule, most reasonable; indeed oftentimes so well have we fared, such willing attention have we received, so moderate has been our bill, that I have even frequently felt a compunction in paying so little for so much. I presume that the rent, rates, and taxes of these rural inns are trifling compared with what the landlords of the grander

COUNTRY ODOURS.

-5

though less comfortable hotels of fashionable watering-places have to pay, who have besides only a limited season in which to make their profit; this may account for the difference in the charges; probably also 'mine host' in the country places does his marketing to better advantage.

It was in the pleasant month of June that we took the journey herein related; a month, speaking generally, of blue skies, of fleecy summer clouds and softened sunshine, for then there is no disagreeable glare of light, nor is the heat too great for outdoor enjoyment. A time it is when the country is at its fairest and freshest, a time when the trees are looking their leafiest, the grass its greenest; wild flowers then, too, everywhere abound, brightening the land with their glowing colours and making gay the hedgerows with their many tints; nor is the eye alone delighted, for the sweet breath of the summer air is laden with countless perfumes-it may be that the scent of new-mown hay is borne upon the breeze, or of a bean-field, or of lime trees, or of the hawthorn in blossom; then the delicate odour of the honeysuckle and the rose is as frequent as it is welcome; or again perchance it is the resinous fragrance of pine trees, or the more powerful perfume of clover or of the gorse that greets the wanderer. In June, too, the birds seem to sing their sweetest and gladdest songs, and, no slight consideration for the holidaymaker, the days are delightfully long.

Why, just when the country is in the prime of its purity and beauty, a veritable Arcadia, bursting into bud and blossom-why it is that just then every

one should elect to remain in town and leave all this wonderful loveliness, these glorious fresh and spreading landscapes, these leafy woods, rippling streams, flower-strewn meadows, unseen, uncared for, passes my comprehension. Who would gaze upon crowds, dusty streets, and smoke-stained houses, when he could refresh his eyes with the soft verdure of the fields and the luxuriant foliage of the young summer full of grace and tender beauty? Certainly not I. And here let me remark that he who has never travelled through rural England by road or footpath in the green and sunny month of June, knows little of the supreme loveliness of his own land.

Having decided to take our holiday, and having determined, as on previous occasions, that a driving tour through some portion of Great Britain would be the most enjoyable manner of spending it, the only further matter necessary to be considered was, what portion it should be. A map was consulted, and after some discussion we selected the three counties of Norfolk, Suffolk, and Essex, as the scene of our perambulations.

Unless I am greatly mistaken, the majority of Englishmen are under the impression that this corner of their land is wholly flat and mostly uninteresting. How it may appear from the railway I cannot say, never having so traversed it, but driving along the old high roads and rural lanes we found the scenery to be exceedingly beautiful, the country pleasantly undulating, hilly even in places; indeed, during portions of our journey the brake was not only needful, but in constant requisition-so much for preconceived

THE HIGHLANDS OF ESSEX.'

7

ideas. The reality was certainly different from our expectations. Considering that Essex has been termed the flattest of English counties, we were agreeably surprised by its diversity of surface; though level and doubtless monotonously uninteresting in parts, it is not fair to judge of the whole by a portion. The tourist whose knowledge of this county is confined to a rush by rail through it, or what may be seen from on board a Thames steamer, would assuredly change his notions if he followed on our track. Our first day's stage, I may here remark, took us to the Langdon Hills, the 'Highlands of Essex' (of which more anon), and we left that county by a steep hill on the top of which was a prominent notice board with the following warning To bicyclists.-This hill is DANGEROUS.'

The scenery of the eastern counties is strangely neglected, possibly because it has been so much and unjustly maligned; at any rate, it is out of fashion for the time, with the exception of the Broad district and the fringe of tripper-haunted watering-places round the coast (if these can be fairly classed as scenery). The regular tourist is therefore a stranger in the land, for he only goes where his guide-books direct him, and these are wonderfully slow to discover fresh woods and pastures new,' and perhaps it is a very good thing that it should be so. On no previous journey have we come upon more charming wayside pictures and pastoral peeps than on the present one, our sketch-book has never been in more frequent requisition, and as Lord Beaconsfield justly remarks 'pastoral scenery never palls. The eye may become