December, 1919 
37 
WEEK-ENDING AT ENGLISH FARMS 
A Custom That Has Revived 
Interest in the Countryside 
O NE of the charms of living in London 
is that one can get out of it so easily. 
England abounds in beautiful old farms 
that are in easy reach of the great city. 
Within two hours one may exchange the 
roar of the Strand for the soothing sound 
of sheep bells on the Sussex downs; or 
the hot glare of Piccadilly for the blue 
reaches of Essex, the beautiful sweep of 
the Wiltshire country or the quaint roofs 
and valleys of Somerset. The motor 
has brought the once far off farmhouse to 
the door of Park Lane. During the war 
it was the fashion to indulge in week-end 
farming as a relief from the arduous work 
of the week. Women who used to be 
merely hostesses in the great world, 
clever women, pretty women, and women 
of esprit, all absorbed in some kind of 
war work, looked forward eagerly to the 
week-ends which meant country sights 
and sounds and rest, and found them on 
a farm. It was a sane form of 
“going back to the land” and 
winning refreshment from it. 
England benefited greatly 
from this fashion but not as 
much as did the people them¬ 
selves. For them it was a 
voyage of discovery, and the 
attraction lay in the fact that 
they were discovering old and 
simple things. 
Quantock Farmhouse stands 
in the Quantock Hills of 
Somersetshire. No more de¬ 
lightful change from the bustle 
of London can be imagined 
than three days in this pictur¬ 
esque and peaceful valley 
Lorna Dome Farm, Malms- 
mead, in the Doone Valley, Ex¬ 
moor, is close to the narrow glen 
where once lived the desperate 
Doones of Blackmore’s novel. 
It is a quaint, thatched roofed 
house with many outbuildings 
The English countryside 
possesses the kind of charm 
that endures. It makes no 
effort, but its quiet beauty has 
the power of always bringing 
people back. There is a quality 
about an old thatched farm¬ 
house, sheltered by the hills of 
Herts or set on the smiling 
land of Kent, that is found 
nowhere else in the world. 
Sometimes it is an old house with 
mullioned windows, thatched roof, black 
and white timbered walls, and painted 
18th Century cupboards; or it may be of 
stucco, with brightly painted blinds and 
lattices, standing bravely under its mass 
of pink rambler roses, the whole invariably 
pervaded by a sense of orderliness that is 
one of the charms of this landscape. 
Anyone weary of life would do well to 
turn to the farm for invigoration of the soul 
as well as the body. There is a kind of 
excitement in waking up to the sounds of 
farmyard life; to fill in the day with inter¬ 
ests afforded by hayricks and the flutter 
of white chickens; to visit the kennels; 
to take an interest in bee culture and to ex¬ 
plore the mysteries of the dairy, that does 
much to preserve one’s balance of mind. 
For these are real things to be done con 
amove, and English farms with their quiet 
serenity offer them in abundance to the 
seeker after not only rest, but rest that is 
tinged with romance. 
Coombe Head Farm, in Somersetshire, is 
celebrated for its picturesque farms and their 
quaint names, such as Teapot Farm, Butter¬ 
milk Hall, etc. As it is only two hours’ from 
London, this spot is an ideal place for a week¬ 
end retreat, the type Londoners seek out today 
