28 FRESH FIELDS 



man, Saxon; they have moved and walked and 

 talked and loved and suifered; hence one feels kin- 

 dred to them and at home among them. The 

 mother-land, indeed. Every foot of its soil has 

 given birth to a human being and grown tender and 

 conscious with time. 



England is like a seat by the chimney-corner, 

 and is as redolent of human occupancy and domes- 

 ticity. It has the island coziness and unity, and 

 the island simplicity as opposed to the continental 

 diversity of forms. It is all one neighborhood; a 

 friendly and familiar air is over all. It satisfies to 

 the full one's utmost craving for the home-like and 

 for the fruits of affectionate occuiDation of the soil. 

 It does not satisfy one's craving for the wild, the 

 savage, the aboriginal, what our poet describes 

 as his 



''Hungering, hungering, hungering for primal energies and 

 Nature's dauntlessness." 



But probably in the matter of natural scenes we 

 hunger most for that which we most do feed upon. 

 At any rate, I can conceive that one might be easily 

 contented with what the English landscape affords 

 him. 



The whole physiognomy of the land bespeaks 

 the action of slow, uniform, conservative agencies. 

 There is an elemental composure and moderation in 

 things that leave their mark everywhere, — a sort 

 of elemental sweetness and docility that are a sur- 

 prise and a charm. One does not forget that the 

 evolution of man probably occurred in this hcmi- 



