Yeovil's Virtual Museum

A Yeovilian looks back

From a Correspondent (in 1951 and 1952)

 

I was sent copies of these newspaper clippings, a series of seven brief articles I reproduce here as one, a few years ago by John Kersting. Sadly I don't know which newspaper, but presumably the Western Chronicle or the Western Gazette.

 

A Yeovilian looks back

I was born in Yeovil and spent most of my first twenty years there. My earliest memories date from a first visit to my grandfather at Wells in 1879; the great snowstorm of 1881, when our kitchen windows were all blocked up; a fascinating battle picture of Abu Klea, hung in our nursery, I think, in 1882 [actually 1885]; and later, when I was growing up, the Tory storm aroused by the death of Gordon in 1885; and, still a vivid memory, the Golden Jubilee of 1887. This was a day of processions and feasting and sports in Wyndham Fields, the high spot for me being the tug of war eight gentleman of the town versus a team of stalwart navvies from the railways. The townsmen won.

I left Yeovil in 1896 to make my own way in life, and it did not return to the West Country - save for one brief visit - until after the recent war. So far as these notes are concerned, I would mention here that having no diaries to refer to I have to rely on a fairly retentive memory and memory is seldom infallible.

Coming into Yeovil by the main West Road after an absence such as mine one has a first glimpse of the way in which the town has grown in the last sixty years. In 1890 one could walk in from West Coker to the Quicksilver Mail without seeing a single house except the inn at the second milestone. Hendford Hill and Hendford itself are much as they were, nor are there many changes in the borough, but for two things: everything looks a little smaller, as is so usual in these cases, and the roads are filled with motor traffic, entirely unknown, of course sixty years ago.

To make a journey round the Borough as it was, starting from the top of Middle Street: on the left, facing west, was the chemist's shop of Mr Maggs are very early Victorian, for his son Mr Fred Maggs, was a contemporary of my father's. Across the entrance to Wine Street was the house of Mr Maynard, with two shops - pork butcher's and confectioner's. Then came the little brick and cobbled passage through to South Street and the big square building of Petters, the ironmongers. Adjoining were the two shops owned by the brothers Robert and Edmund Damon, one for men's clothing and one for women's. Then a grocer's, Mr Sawtell's.

Standing some way back behind a green lawn was the attractive Georgian house of Dr Flower and his two sons - one of whom died quite recently; and on the other side of Dr Flower's garden was an ironmonger's shop, at one time Edgar's. Crossing another and wider cobbled passage - now a wide street with the Post Office in it - one came to the old Town Hall, standing solidly on its square stone pillars, with the perennial smell of stale flowers, fruits and vegetables from the stalls allowed to pitch there. (No doubt the new Town Hall is more economical of space, but to my prejudiced by its lacks much of its character of the old one).

Next to the Town Hall was, I think, china and glass shop - name entirely forgotten [George Glyde] - and then a newly opened branch of Clements and Sons, the grocer's already established in the Sherborne Road near the Town Station. There must, I think, have been a small off-licence place next door; I seem to remember a bright red advertisement for Bass' beer by the entrance. Then came Heal's furniture shop, and Denner's drapery store on the corner.

Facing east, across the top of Hendford, was Stuckey's Bank, and then, coming back was a small shop adjoining the Mermaid Hotel with its two entrances (one in Princes Street) to the old coaching yard and stables, with a billiards room upstairs. Next to the Mermaid was another double draper's shop - Mr Ben Penny's - and beyond that, I think, a small fancy shop of sorts - name forgotten; but I remember well the shop next door for bicycles and sports goods, newly opened by Mr Moffat.

Mr C Fox, at you will, had about that time, moved into the next premises, previously occupied in the eighties by a draper named Edwards. Another newly opened as little shop was that of Mr McMillan, with the most attractive display for young men of the latest fashions in shirts, ties, hats and stone-built premises of the Wilts hosiery. Then, I think, came the stone-built premises of the Wilts and Dorset bank, followed by another big building in red brick - that of Mr Dawe, the grocer.

Crossing the entrance to Church Lane one came to a butcher's shop run by two butchers named Hayne - one succeeding the other; and the place adjoining had, just about that time, been opened by a newcomer, Mr Redwood. On the other side of Silver Street was a smart shoe shop run by Miss Singleton, and on the corner, now occupied by a big bank building, was another draper's, Mr Thorne (previously Wadman's).

Of the hotels, I have already mentioned the Mermaid, previously run by Mr Corry. The other big one, the Three Choughs, looks much as it does today Mr Tom Schaal and had been the landlord for some years, and retired a year or so later. The Half Moon, in Silver Street, also shows very little apparent change; it then had a sporting landlord in Mr Bob Leach.

I have mentioned the names of these places chiefly because so many of them are still there my impression is that so far as the Borough itself is concerned no great change has taken place in the past sixteen years, and it is, perhaps, a tribute to the sound business qualities of the burgesses.

The town itself has, of course, grown almost out of knowledge. One can see, from the top of Hendford Hill, how the green fields of West Hendford and away to the North West have been submerged in a flood of bricks and mortar. Only a week or so ago I motored into Yeovil from Wincanton via Sparkford and Marston Magna, and found, in place of the quiet lane we used to call the Mudford Road, a wide and well-kept thoroughfare, with houses and gardens on both sides for a mile or so before reaching the Hospital in Kingston. And no doubt this growth has gone on in other directions.

Apart from the activities of a market town in a rich agricultural district, the glove making industry was an important factor in this development. From the early eighties onwards the Raymond family were, I think, the leading glove makers. The two heads of this family were William Cuthbert Raymond, who may have retired before 1890. I remember meeting them now and then in Church Lane - two picturesque figures, both white-haired, top-hatted and frock-coated. Of the younger generation there was John Raymond, then a bachelor, Fred and Frank (both married), Lancelot ("Lanny", I think, a schoolmaster), Walter, who left the industry to write is charming stories of rural life in Somerset, and two ladies, Miss Alice and Miss Lucy Raymond.

There were, of course, others besides the Raymonds; names I recall are Ewens, Johnson, Thring, Luffman, Gawler, Hitchcock, Clothier and Giles, and there may have been others. Some of these names are well known in Yeovil today. There were also two families of Pittards, with big tanning yards near the Town Station: they may possibly have made gloves as well.

In this connection I would mention that in the early eighties glove making was still being done in some of the nearby villages by women who called at the factories to take away the cut-out shapes and bring them back sewn together.

I have already mentioned the Petters. I have an early memory of Mr John Petter as the head of the family. He was a sturdy old gentleman with a shaven upper lip and a stiff greybeard. Mr James Petter, who directed the ironmongery business, was an active, virile figure with a prematurely grey pointed beard and a noteworthy hat. I never saw another like it, and I think he must have had them specially made for him. It was of black felt with perfectly flat crown and brim - rather like that worn by a Yeovman of the Guard in full uniform but without the trimming. In 1890 Mr Petter had a large family - Harry, the eldest; Ernest and Percy, the twins; Guy, then, I think at Sherborne School; John, now a well-known architect; Claude, and two girls.

There are probably many Yeovilians who can tell far better than I the story of the great business built up by the Petters, but I recall the thrill of pride felt over twenty years later - in a country ten thousand miles from England - when I first heard of the famous Petter oil engines of Yeovil.

It was, I think, in the late eighties that Mr Barrett came to Yeovil with a son, named William, and a daughter, Annie. I soon got to know William Barrett, and I remember his taking me one day into a large garden shed near the Park, where dairy produce was being sorted and packed by an assistant. A little later I learnt that Mr Barrett had entered into partnership with Mr Shorland Aplin, who I had associated hitherto with the Gamis & Hunt toyshop in Hendford - why, I don't quite know. I left Yeovil a year or so later, some years before "St Ivel" products of Aplin & Barrett became well-known as they were to be later throughout the Empire.

One other industry of Yeovil sixty years ago was Brutton's Brewery, then, I believe, entirely owned and managed by Mr Joseph Brutton - a rather striking figure, erect and grey-bearded, immaculately dressed in frock-coat and silk hat. He had a large family, including two beautiful twin daughters, and I think Mr Bob Brutton was the eldest son. It was about the time of which I write that the brewery buildings were enlarged and extended; the name of Brutton's beer is, of course, a familiar one today.

I must leave the minor industries of the town and turn now to the professions, taking the church first. St John's Church - that fine old building to which a mere sixty years has made no perceptible difference - had, just about 1890 or perhaps a little before, changed its vicar, the new incumbent being the Rev HT Beebe, DD. It was rumoured that the Doctor had followed a business career for some years before going up to university for his degree and subsequent ordination, but this may have been merely a rumour. He was a tall and portly figure in his regular clerical attire, recalling perhaps Trollope's Dr Grantley, with the very decided ideas as to the nature of his duties, and unfortunately the organist of St John's - Mr Harry Bullock - though a very fine musician, also held strong views of his own. Though I never found out the cause of the quarrel, it was obvious before long that serious trouble had arisen. My father decided to leave St John's, and we accordingly switched over to Trinity Church and the Rev Abel Phillips.

The Rev Abel Phillips (vicar of Holy Trinity) was a staunch teetotaler. He was, I think, largely concerned in raising funds for building the Victoria Temperance Hall in South Street - which may have been done as a Jubilee Memorial. It was soon completed, and at the end of 1889 (or it may have been 1890) it was engaged by my parents for a big Christmas party. Now it happened that Mr Phillips had installed as caretaker for the building of a man who professed to be a total abstainer of rigid principles, but I'm afraid he so far belied his professions as to abstract a couple of bottles of port from the supplies sent in for supper. At any rate the Rev Abel called the next day to report that he had just found his teetotal caretaker well under the influence and what had my father to say about it. My father, of course, had a good deal to say about it, and for sometime thereafter relations with the Rev Abel were somewhat strained.

Just about this time Mr Phillips' two sons had graduated and being ordained. One of them, Ernest, was an impressive extempore preacher, whose sermons through very large congregations to his father's church. The other, Theodore, also an eloquent preacher, has already taken up the study of astronomy, and, years afterwards, I heard him mentioned as an authority on that subject.

There was one other church [the Reformed Episcopalian Christ Church] which had recently been built near the Park - not orthodox Church of England - of which the first incumbent was Mr Newman Reader.

Yeovil had then, as no doubt it has today, it's fair proportion of Dissenters, though I saw little of their ministers or places of worship. One man I remember her as rather an outstanding character - the Rev Samuel Newman [Samuel Newnam], the Baptist minister. He was a British man with strongly marked features, rather like the cartoons of Bradlaugh, and there may still be a few Yeovilians left who remember him with respect and affection.

The law was well represented. The senior in point of age was, I think, Mr Sidney Watts. I believe he was a town councillor and occupied the Mayoral chair at least once [actually twice]. The only time I met him was when I was collecting for some school sports. On that occasion he pulled out a handful of gold and silver - more money than I had ever seen at one time - and, passing over a half-sovereign, sent me on my way rejoicing. A younger member of the same family, Mr Harry Watts, was a well-known sportsman and a fine athlete.

Then there was the Mayo family. I have a very early recollection of Mr Tom Mayo and his brother - two handsome grey-bearded old gentleman usually dressed in knickerbocker tweed suits with square-cut tails and flat-topped felt hats. Of their sons, Mr Pat and Mr Jack Mayo were in practice in Yeovil. Over fifty years later I had the pleasure of meeting Mr Pat Mayo, looking very much the same except that the clipped beard he always wore was frosted over. I cannot remember what was the profession of his cousins, Bertie and Whitmash Mayo.

Mr William Marsh had his home and his offices in the big stone house at the corner of Park Road [Old Sarum]. From my earliest days I remember him as a keen Volunteer - first as a captain, then as major, and, before I left, as colonel. But tall and very handsome man, he had three daughters and two sons, all of whom inherited their father's good looks. Some time in the nineties he took a partner, and the firm became Marsh & Warry.

Sixty years ago Yeovil was well served by its doctors. The one I met first was Dr Garland - a small elderly man, whose face seemed to me, as a child, to be almost entirely hidden in curly hair and whiskers, and who invariably wore a soft black; semi-clerical hat. He lived and had his own surgery in an old house nearly opposite Court Ash, then a passageway blocked two wheeled traffic by two stout posts. Next in seniority was Dr Aldridge, who live in what is now Hendford Manor Hotel, with two unmarried sisters. He was, I think, the most perfect type of mid-Victorian man of fashion I ever saw. George du Maurier might have taken in for his model, with his long silky whiskers reaching to his shoulders, as he drove about the town, always immaculately dressed, in an open carriage with, I think, a pair of horses Dr Colmer, a man with a large family, lived and practised mainly at his house in South Street. I remember him as a stoutly-built middle-aged man, with a cheerful manner. He also, I think, was on the Town Council and may once [actually twice] have served as Mayor of the Borough.

A doctor of whom I retain happy memories was Charles Marsh, a brother of the lawyer William. He was strongly built, sturdy looking man of florid complexion, with merry twinkling eyes behind gold pince-nez. For some time he was, I believe, in partnership with Dr Garland, though he lived in a different part of the town, on Penn Hill. He was still there when I visited the town nearly 40 years later, and I believe he lived to a great age. I always remembered him as having hit the biggest sixer ever recorded on the old West Hendford cricket ground - a hit worthy of another and better known West Country doctor. I have already mentioned Dr Flower, then living in the Borough, whom I never met, and hardly knew by sight; and I recall that a Dr Semple came to live in Kingston shortly before I left.

The dental practice was mainly in the hands of two men - Mr Fred Maggs, the son of the old chemist already mentioned, and a newcomer, Mr Helyar. The latter had his surgery in Kingston not far from Dr Garland's and almost opposite to the passage leading through to Higher Kingston. Though an excellent dentist, his "open wide, please" was a prelude to much discomfort. It must be borne in mind that sixty years ago the use of local anaesthetics was almost unknown and that dental work for the patient was a far more painful business than it is now.

Like the dental practice, architecture was shared mainly by two men. Mr Benson, I think the senior, seemed to prefer the simpler forms of Georgian and early Victorian design, and I was a great admirer of his work, much of which no doubt remains today. Mr Joseph N Johnstone preferred the more florid style of the late Victorians, and chose, as a rule, red brick and carved Ham stone for his materials. One specimen of his work, with a false gable which I much disliked, stood at the top of Middle Street for over fifty years until it was entirely removed during the late war by a direct hit from a German bomb. There was in Yeovil, I believe, at this time, a Roman Catholic priest [Rev AJ Scoles] who was also a skilled architect, but I never met him.

For a town of its size Yeovil was well served by its Press, having in 1890 three newspapers locally printed and published. At a time when political opinions were pretty evenly divided - Lord Salisbury having almost as many followers as Mr Gladstone - the Western Gazette was the Conservative organ, the Western Chronicle that of the Liberals. (At that time, of course, the Labour Party had yet to be formed). There was, I think, a fair amount of feeling between the parties and their respective papers. In the early nineties, I think, the Western Gazette was edited by Mr Sylvester, who lived in Hendford and had five pretty daughters. I am afraid I was much more interested in Mr Sylvester's daughters than his politics. Pullman's Weekly News, the third paper, I very seldom saw, perhaps because its circulation was mainly in country districts.

Yeovil had its Board Schools and Church Schools in the eighties and early nineties, but it doesn't seem to me, looking back, that secondary education was any too well provided for. There was Monk's School in Hendford, owned and run by another long-whiskered early Victorian, but its numbers were small and mostly day boys. Kingston School was much bigger. Founded, I believe, by Mr John Aldridge, it was taken over by his son Alfred the early eighties. In or about 1890 he built of being extension onto the old premises. Some time after leaving Yeovil I learnt that Alfred Aldridge had sold the place and emigrated to South America.

At this time there was a fairly large school for girls near the Park run by a Mrs Nosworthy and her daughter Laura. A year or so later a movement was set on foot to found a Yeovil High School for Girls, and this was done, Miss Fanny Cobb being appointed as headmistress. I've read only recently in an obituary notice that Miss Cobb had held that appointment for forty years, and had died at the age of 89. There must be many of her ex-pupils still in the district who honour her memory.

Of the arts, I cannot remember any Yeovilians with special claims to distinction as painters (Samuel Colman? William Sherrell? Frederick Treble?]. My father was a keen and fairly competent art critic, and I can't remember his being interested in the work of any local artists - with one exception. It was just about 1889 or 1890 that Mr Basil J Nightingale was commissioned by the M.F.H. of the Blackmore Vale to paint a series of pictures of his horses and hounds. Mr Nightingale came to Yeovil to live for a year or two and soon became friendly with my father. He worked almost entirely in watercolour and was a brilliant draughtsman, his work comparing well with that of later men, such as Lionel Edwards, Cecil Aldington and the "Punch" man GD Armour. Not long afterwards, when I made my first "grown-up" visit to London in 1896, I was delighted to see much of his work on show in the picture shops of Piccadilly and Bond Street. Many years later I learned with sorrow that he had fallen on evil days and died in poverty.

I have already mentioned Walter Raymond - a real country lover, whose stories became so well known later stop he loved the Dorset poet Barnes, and on occasions would recite some of his verses in a perfect Dorsetshire accent. The last time I saw him he was seated in an inglenook of the beautiful old Abbey Farm at Preston, discussing local affairs with burly Tom Hawkins, the farmer.

Another man often seen in Yeovil at this time was Mr Louis N Parker, destined to become famous a few years later. He came over occasionally from Sherborne, and I can remember taking part in one or two shows organised by him. At that time, of course, Dickens hadn't been very long dead, and "Mrs Jarley's" waxworks made a popular turn. The biggest of these arranged by Mr Parker was held in the Corn Exchange (about '88 or '89) and was a great success. A well-known artiste with a very fine voice occasionally heard in Yeovil was Mr Alec Marsh, a brother of the lawyer and the doctor; he was then a member of the Carl Rosa Opera Company.

Turning from the arts to sport, the Blackmore Vale Foxhounds, of which Mr Merthyr Guest was then Master, had their kennels too far away for us to see much of them. They had for a time and annual meet on Wyndham Hill as a Boxing Day fixture and occasionally met at other places near the town, such as Bunford Hollow, a lane leading from the Coker Road to Preston. Most of the wealthy landlords preserved gain, and keepers were offered to be met with, too often, perhaps, when we were young and birds were nesting. There was a fair amount of rough shooting - mostly wood pigeons, rooks and rabbits - and coursing was popular with many of the farmers.

In the town itself, cricket, rugby and association football were regularly played. For a long time the old ground at West Hendford, with its rather rickety pavilion, served for all three, with occasional athletic sports as well. I can't remember any outstanding cricketers of the period except perhaps a very promising young bowler - Herbert Dodge, the youngest of three brothers living at East Coker - who may later have been given a trial by the County Club. At that time, of course, Somerset had one of the strongest amateur sides in England. It was in 1891, I think, that HT Hewitt and Lionel Palairet set up a first-wicket record of 346 against Yorkshire. The cricket we played then was mostly against villages like Montacute, Tintinhull, East Coker, Sparkford, Barwick and Stoford, matches that were sometimes finished - all four innings - in one fine afternoon; went to reach double figures was something of a feat in batsmanship; matches where "shirt-front" wickets were unknown, yet which had something of the best of cricket about them.

Rugby had been played for years in Yeovil. I remember an old photograph at home of the town team, in which my father figures, taken before I was born. Of the few games I saw - for I played soccer at school and afterwards - I don't remember very much. There were two three quarters named Lyon - I think they came from Sherborne - both very fast, and a heavyish pack of whom a man called Baskett was very noticeable. I once saw Bertie Mayo play a brilliant game for Yeovil, and I think he must have been used to playing in first-class company. Mr Maynard, of the Borough, was a very good referee, who always did his job in a dark tweed suit and leather gaiters.

Of the town soccer team, I think Fred Bond, a tall, big full-back, took over the captaincy early in the nineties, and later he may have played for the county as well. His partner at full-back at that time was a Parson, Rev FW Hotham, from one of the nearby villages, a tall, full bearded man, who played in a, a coloured shirts of sorts, loose white breeches buckled below the knee, and white buckskin boots from which clouds of pipeclay rose when he kicked; yet he was a sound back, with a very long kick, and very difficult to get past. Other names occur to me - Herbie and "Bonsor" Arnold, "Dunnick" Stone, RB Davis, and so on. Perhaps their grandson's are playing for Yeovil now.

There is one name that stands out in my memory - Gilbert C Vassall. At about that time he had left Charterhouse for Oxford, and was later to be known as an Old Carthusian, a double Blue, a Corinthian and an English International. The son of the Parson at Harding to Mandeville, he played occasionally for Yeovil when home on holiday, and was the best outside-right I ever saw. A very sturdy, strongly built man, with an amazing turn of speed, he seemed to be able to run past any opponent taking the ball with him.

Of other outdoor games, there was a little "pat-ball" tennis, and quoits were played on a strip of ground near the railway in Wyndham Fields. I never saw a golf club or a hockey stick until after I left Yeovil. The only feature of the athletic sports that I can recall was some wonderful riding of a "penny-farthing" bicycle by a man named Osborn. That must have been before 1890, for the "safety" bicycles were coming in then.

The Corporation Swimming Baths were opened, I think, a little before this, and an ex-bus driver named William Uzzell was the first superintendent. The two best swimmers I remember were George Corps, son of the Yeovil Postmaster, and Sam Milbourne, the youngest son of the Princes Street tailor.

Transport in 1890 offered few difficulties for Yeovilians, who were perhaps content to travel a little more slowly than many of them do today. The town was well served by its two railways, the GWR and the L & SWR. Motor transport was, of course, unknown, and the only buses seen in the town were the two-horse ones sent by the Choughs and the Mermaid to meet the principal trains at both stations. These buses were also available for hire, especially for the dances and parties held at Christmas time. Both hotels had wagonettes of different sizes - the largest big enough to take cricket or football teams - which could be hired at short notice. Bicycles, of both sorts, and occasional tricycles were in common use, and farmers either rose their own horses or drove into town on market days.

Looking back, amusements seem to have been adequate, though we had, of course, neither cinemas nor wireless: but it isn't too easy to make comparisons when youthful zest for enjoyment has lost its keenness. In most of our houses was some sort of home-made music, some of it, perhaps, as satisfying as the radio-supplied article; dances and concerts were frequent, and some of our amateur talent was very good. Touring theatrical companies paid frequent visits to Yeovil - perhaps the two main railways helped in this respect - and so did circuses, of which the two best remembered were Ginnett's and Lord George Sanger's. Then there were variety shows, such as Poole's Myiorama, or occasional ni**er minstrels, or conjurors.

And then our own home-made processions! Invariably headed by the Town Band - a first-class prize-winning band (of, I think, the second VB of the PASLI) - those processions of schoolchildren, the girls with their muslin dresses and specially frizzed hair (for there were few bobbed heads then), and the Band of Hope, and the Friendly Societies like the Odd Fellows and the Royal and Ancient Order of Buffaloes, all wearing their special insignia and carrying their two-poled banners. All these lent life and colour to our streets.

Another annual happening of great interest to the younger Yeovilians, and perhaps to the elders, was the passage through the town - on their way to and from Okehampton or gunnery exercises - of batteries of the RA or the RHA. The latter were the more spectacular, with their braided and frogged shell jackets and the black busbys with the red flap at the side; and the rattle of the guns and limbers (all horse-drawn of course) always brought the crowds out to watch them.

The Yeovil Fair was held twice annually then; perhaps it is now. Booths of different kinds were set up in the Borough and Silver Street (where you could buy real gingerbread with the gilt still on), swings at the bottom of Silver Street, and merry-go-rounds and side-shows of all sorts in the cattle market. Mention of slideshows recalls the advent, in the late eighties, of two preposterous quacks, who appear to have toured the larger towns of the West Country. One of them came to Yeovil, and after due advertisement in processions through the town, gave nightly exhibitions, before large crowds, of his "miraculous" powers of healing, in an open carriage in the cattle market. This display was given at the expense of various rheumatic cripples, with a band blaring away to drown their cries. He must've made pots of money by the sale of various nostrums to the credulous, and apparently he got away with it.

On the whole, Yeovil sixty years ago might fairly have been described as a busy, well-kept and thriving market town, much smaller than it is now and with not more than a third of its present population. There was plenty of money about, and many of the owners of the beautiful country houses in the district could often be seen driving through the streets in the smart carriages, usually with liveried servants. The most picturesque figure of all these people was, I think, Sir Spencer Ponsonby Fane, who came in occasionally from Brympton, when not in attendance on the Royal household, looking exactly like his portrait as I was to see, some years later, in the Long Room at Lord's.

I think I knew almost every corner of the town and, though there were signs here and there of poverty, I can remember nothing to compare with the dreadful squalor I saw a few years later in some of the slums about New Cross and Deptford. Occasionally one saw ragged and dusty tramps passing through the town, but I recall only two figures who looked really destitute, of all the Yeovilians I knew by sight. One was a bearded scarecrow paralysed in his right side, who, with his left hand, pulled about a small handcart and may have made a bare living that way. The other was a strange old woman - a mere bundle of rags with haggard, red-rimmed eyes and a face incredibly wrinkled, who for a copper would do a few clumsy steps of a dance to a hoarse cackle about "Jolly Fat Farmers all in a Row". A few years ago I came across a book of charming country sketches by an author named Powys. (I remember a clergyman of that name at Montacute, I think, when I was a boy). In that book I found the life story of "Jolly Fat Farmers", and a moving story it was of youthful, headstrong beauty and passion and tragedy. It was difficult to imagine that dreadful old woman as having once been young and beautiful.

In these reminiscences I have touched on most of the points of interest that have occurred to me no doubt and observant contemporary of mine could have filled at least as many pages as I have in dealing with things and people and places entirely overlooked or forgotten by me. But to an old man of today, with the world all at sixes and sevens - with most of the Christian ideals and the brotherhood of man making way for malice and hatred and all uncharitableness - there is real pleasure in casting back, in living again, if only in imagination, those days of security and peace; days when a golden sovereign was a symbol of stability throughout the world; days when the Navy was supreme and aerial invasion as yet and dreamt of. No doubt to the younger generations there are ample compensation is to be found in life as it is today. At any rate, I hope so.

[THE END]