PART III 



CHAPTER XV 



A BIT OF ENGLAND 



Crowsnest lies upon a hill. It consists of a post- 

 office, a tiny butcher's shop, a greengrocer's, an 

 ItaHan warehouse and a church. The London 

 road climbs the hill, passes through the village, 

 descends the hill and vanishes from sight. Trees 

 swallow it up. Century-old elms cavern it over. 

 When the great-grandfathers of these elms were 

 young the Roman road leading over the hill to 

 the sea was old; as it was then, so is it now, and 

 so will it be when these elms are coffin-boards, 

 enclosing the bones of vanished and long-forgotten 

 people. 



At the foot of the hill passes a nameless river 

 which the Roman road crosses by a bridge whose 

 stones are old as the road itself. On a summer's 

 afternoon, leaning one's elbows comfortably on 

 the moss-grown balustrade of this bridge, the 

 river and the road hold one's mind between them ; 

 the river leaping amidst the weed-green stones, 

 here in the cave-like twihght of the foHage, here 



diamond-bright where the sun dazzle strikes 

 L 169 



