BACK TO THE WEST COUNTRY 183 



him later tliat cvcnin^^ asked him if he had succeeded. 

 Yes, he repHed, he had found and hstened for some 

 time to its song. It was a fine song, unHke that of 

 any other bird known to him, but it did not conic up 

 to his expectations, and he had formed the idea that 

 this bird was probably not a very good specimen of its 

 kind. It consoled him to be told that he was absolutely 

 right, that Yeovil's one nightingale was a rather poor 

 performer. 



From Yeovil to Glastonbury is but a few miles, some 

 fifteen as the crow flies — no distance at all to the person 

 of importance in a motor-car and nothing to detain 

 him by the way. To me — to all whose desire in travel- 

 ling is not to arrive at their destination — it was as far 

 as I liked to make it. It was in fact a vast green 

 country where I discovered several small ancient towns 

 and more villages than I can remember; churches in 

 the shadow of whose grey old tow^ers one would like 

 to spend the slow last years of life; inns too where 

 bread and cheese and beer, if nothing else, can be ob- 

 tained for refreshment, and the cottage homes of the 

 people one loves best. They are never wildly en- 

 thusiastic like the Lancastrians about anytliing, but they 

 are sweeter, more engaging in temper and manner, 

 whether on account of their softer climate or the larger 

 infusion of Celtic blood in their Anglo-Saxon veins I 

 know not. They are perhaps a perfect amalgam, like 

 their W'elsh neighbours on the other side of the Severn 

 with the harsh lines of the Welsh features subdued, 

 and like their Saxon neighbours on the east side without 



