BACK TO THE WEST COUNTRY 177 



live and for long generations have lived the simple 

 life, who are on the soil with some of the soil on them, 

 who see few visitors from a distance — from the great 

 world, and whose glad welcome is one of the sweetest 

 things in life. 



This then was motive the first, and when I dis- 

 covered my lost friends not far from the town I found 

 them unchanged, still in the old mind, the feeling 

 that I was one of them, of their very kin, and though 

 rarely seen and perhaps regarded as the vagabond of 

 the family, not less well loved on that account. 



My second object was to look at Montacute House 

 and park which had been missed on previous visits. 

 The park held me for several hours, for it is like a 

 wilderness or a place in a dispeopled land that was 

 once a park, but I found no feathered rarity there or 

 anywhere in the country round. 



As to the famous Montacute House, it is built of 

 Ham Hill stone — the one building stone I cannot abide. 

 By others it is greatly admired, and it is perhaps 

 worth explaining why I, loving colour as I do, yellows 

 as much as any, have this feeling about our famous 

 yellow stone. It is, I take it, an associate feeling due 

 to the disagreeable effect which yellow as an interior 

 colour produces in me. Sherborne Abbey is without 

 a doubt one of our noblest ecclesiastical buildings, 

 more beautiful in the stone sculpture enriching its 

 roof than any cathedral or church in the land. Yet 

 I cannot appreciate it, since the effect of the colour 

 is a severe headache, a profound depression. After 

 an hour inside I feel that I am yellow all through, 



M 



