But Of My Soul's Adventures In Wells On The Two Or Three
Following Days I Will Say Very Little.
That laugh of the
woodpecker was an assurance that Nature had suffered no
change, and the town too, like the hills and rocks and running
waters, seemed unchanged; but how different and how sad when I
looked for those I once knew, whose hands I had hoped to grasp
again!
Yes, some were living still; and a dog too, one I used
to take out for long walks and many a mad rabbit-hunt - a very
handsome white-and-liver coloured spaniel. I found him lying
on a sofa, and down he got and wagged his tail vigorously,
pretending, with a pretty human hypocrisy in his gentle yellow
eyes, that he knew me perfectly well, that I was not a bit
changed, and that he was delighted to see me.
On my way back to Bath I had a day at Bristol. It was
cattle-market day, and what with the bellowings, barkings, and
shoutings, added to the buzz and clang of innumerable electric
tramcars and the usual din of street traffic, one got the idea
that the Bristolians had adopted a sort of Salvation Army
theory, and were endeavouring to conquer earth (it is not
heaven in this case) by making a tremendous noise. I amused
myself strolling about and watching the people, and as train
after train came in late in the day discharging loads of
humanity, mostly young men and women from the surrounding
country coming in for an evening's amusement, I noticed again
the peculiarly Welsh character of the Somerset peasant - the
shape of the face, the colour of the skin, and, above all, the
expression.
Freeman, when here below, proclaimed it his mission to prove
that "Englishmen were Englishmen, and not somebody else." It
appeared to me that any person, unbiassed by theories on such
a subject, looking at that crowd, would have come to the
conclusion, sadly or gladly, according to his nature, that we
are, in fact, "somebody else."
Chapter Fourteen: The Return of the Native
That "going back" about which I wrote in the second chapter to
a place where an unexpected beauty or charm has revealed
itself, and has made its image a lasting and prized possession
of the mind, is not the same thing as the revisiting a famous
town or city, rich in many beauties and old memories, such as
Bath or Wells, for instance. Such centres have a permanent
attraction, and one who is a rover in the land must return to
them again and again, nor does he fail on each successive
visit to find some fresh charm or interest. The sadness of
such returns, after a long interval, is only, as I have said,
when we start "looking up" those with whom we had formed
pleasant friendly relations. And all because of the illusion
that we shall see them as they were - that Time has stood still
waiting for our return, and by and by, to our surprise and
grief, we discover that it is not so; that the dear friends of
other days, long unvisited but unforgotten, have become
strangers.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 88 of 157
Words from 45576 to 46109
of 82198
