6 THE SOUTH COUNTRY 



and I thought there could be nothing loveh'er than that 

 court, the pleasant walls, and the broad playing fields in 

 sight of a smooth noble hill and a temple of dark firs 

 on top. I was not thinking of Winchester or of any one 

 older than the fondest son of that " mother, more than 

 mother," and little of him; but was merely caught up by 

 and with the harmony of man and his work, of two 

 children playing, and of the green downs and windy sky. 

 And so I travel, armed only with myself, an avaricious 

 and often libertine and fickle eye and ear, in pursuit, not 

 of knowledge, not of wisdom, but of one whom to pursue 

 is never to capture. Politics, the drama, science, racing, 

 reforms and preservations, divorces, book clubs — nearly 

 everything which the average (oh ! mysterious average 

 man, always to be met but never met) and the superior 

 and the intelligent man is thinking of, I cannot grasp; 

 my mind refuses to deal with them; and when they are 

 discussed I am given to making answers like, " In Kilve 

 there is no weathercock." I expect there are others as 

 unfortunate, superfluous men such as the sanitation, 

 improved housing, police, charities, medicine of our won- 

 derful civilization saves from the fate of the cuckoo's 

 foster-brothers. They will perhaps follow my meanders 

 and understand. The critics also will help. They will 

 misunderstand — it is their trade. How well they know 

 what I ought, or at least ought not, to do. I must, they 

 have said, avoid " the manner of the worst oleographs "; 

 must not be " affected," though the recipe is not to be 

 had; must beware of " over-excitation of the colour 

 sense." In slow course of years we acquire a way of 

 expression, hopelessly inadequate, as we plainly see when 



