64 PERSONAL EXPERIENCE 



wide and general view of the subject, and to confine 

 myself for the rest of this section to the purely 

 personal aspect of the matter — my own private 

 sense of smell. 



So long as a smell is not a warning or disgustful 

 one, even if acrid or sour or pungent, it is agreeable 

 to me. The heavy greasy smell of sheep, for instance, 

 and of sheep-folds, of cattle and cow-houses and 

 stables, of warehouses filled with goods, and drapers', 

 grocers', cheesemongers', and apothecaries' shops, 

 of leather and iron and wood, of sawpits and car- 

 penters' workshops. Wood-smells are indeed almost 

 as grateful as aromatic and fragrant scents. And 

 many other smells — tanneries, breweries, and all 

 kinds of works, including gasworks. But it is always 

 a pleasing change from the great manufacturing 

 centres to the country and the dusty smell of rain 

 after dry, hot weather; the smell of rain-wet pine- 

 woods, of burning weeds and peat, and above all 

 the smell of the fresh-turned earth — the smell which, 

 as the agricultural labourer believes, gives him his 

 long, healthy, peaceful life. 



One of my first sharp unforgettable experiences 

 in England was a novel smell, which I will not say 

 assailed, but rushed hospitably on me to receive me, 

 so to speak, in its soft, flesh-like, welcoming arms — 

 an earth-born, thick, warm smell, something like 

 cookery and Russian leather, a happy, pleasant smell 

 the like of which I had never encountered before. 



I had just landed at Southampton on a bright 

 morning in early May, and the whole air seemed 



