1 64 A NEW AGRICULTURAL POLICY 



be excluded from the discussions, and the 

 library will consist of other books besides the 

 immortal works of Tupper, or of the excellent 

 Mrs. Henry Wood. Possibly we shall see 

 companies of pastoral players evolved, bringing 

 colour and merriment into our sombre sur- 

 roundings, in which black bowler hats and 

 dark clothes have been the outward and visible 

 sign of respectability. As I write I recall a 

 scene I was fortunate enough to witness last 

 May, which makes one hopeful that the divine 

 gift of laughter and the love of beauty is not 

 dead even in those who, with little to encourage 

 them, follow the plough to-day. . . . 



The sunlight broke into a green radiance as 

 it shot its rays against the noble canopy of 

 beech leaves. Below the hanger lay the small 

 downland village where the rustics were revel- 

 ling in a dramatic gesture which seemed to 

 come as naturally to these stolid southern 

 Englishmen as that of casting seed across a 

 ploughed field. 



With few exceptions all were sons and 

 daughters of the soil, and the soil was that of 

 Sussex. Behind the beech woods, across the 

 spacious upland deer park a many-turreted 

 castle stood in all its splendour to remind us 

 that feudalism could still hold sway in southern 

 England. Its walls were hung with ancient 

 armour, with tapestry, and the pillage of 

 monasteries. Its robing rooms were full of 



