BEDINGHAM, DITCHINGHAM & THE FA R.MS 19 



is not on this alone that the sight depends for beauty, or on the 

 green of the meadows and the winding river edged with lush 

 marshes that in spring are spotted by yellow marigolds and 

 purple with myriads of cuckoo flowers. They all contribute to it, 

 as do the grazing cattle, the gabled distant roofs, and the church 

 spires, but I think that the prospect owes its peculiar charm to the 

 constant changes of light which sweep across its depths. At every 

 season of the year, at every hour of the day it is beautiful, but 

 always with a different beauty. Of that view I do not think that 

 any lover of Nature could tire, because it is never quite the same. 



The lamentable thing is that with such a prospect at our 

 doors only one house in the neighbourhood, Upland Hall, has 

 any benefit from it, except indeed Ditchingham Lodge, which 

 is the property of this estate, and stands at the bottom of the 

 hill almost on a bend of the river. Had the builders of this 

 house where I write, for instance, chosen to place it 400 yards 

 further back, as they might very easily have done, it would have 

 commanded what I believe to be the finest view in Norfolk, since 

 from that spot the eye travels not only over the expanse of Bungay 

 Common and its opposing slopes, but down the valley of the 

 Waveney to Beccles town and tower. But it would seem that in 

 the time of the Georges the people who troubled their heads 

 about beautiful prospects were not many. The country was 

 lonely then, and the neighbourhood of the Norwich road had 

 more attractions than any view. Along that road passed the 

 coaches, bringing a breath of the outer world into the quiet 

 village, and the last news of the wars ; also, did any member of 

 the household propose to travel by them, it was easy for one of 

 the men-servants to wheel his baggage in a barrow to the gate. 



But people did not travel much or far from home. The con- 

 stant intermarriages amongst neighbouring families in those days 

 show this plainly. Also, even such a small place as Bungay, with its 

 population of three or four thousand, had a winter season. An aged 

 relative, who still lives close by, tells me that she can well remember 

 as a young lady being carried in a sedan chair to card parties at 



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