Fortunes for Farmers 



rule, and when such a man buys a farm he counts 

 the value of the house as nothing. The old gentle- 

 men farmers have left them, and until the last 

 decade of motors no one wanted them at any 

 price. 



I visited one recently which a retired officer 

 bought for three hundred pounds, a stone build- 

 ing whose steep roof covered with red tiles, 

 carved stone windows and ancient creeper, gave a 

 most charming effect, borne out by the oak 

 panelling inside. Further there was the old 

 garden with its lawn, recently grazed by the 

 farmer's sheep, the stable cleaned and turned into 

 a garage, a miniature drive with its trees and 

 all the outbuildings. No one could desire a better 

 home. Those who have read Kipling's Habitation 

 Enforced, can know how delightful such places 

 may be, and guess how, presently, they will be 

 sought. 



Whether such a trend will spoil this charm 

 is doubtful, but I think not; the environment 

 is stronger than the invader and conquers him. 



There are other theories about the future of 

 Rural England. H. G. Wells puts forth the idea 

 that the gravitation of the city would drain our 

 villages and smaller towns, and the countryside, 

 bare of houses, would be worked by labourers 

 living in the cities. He pictures them coming and 



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