File:Friendly faces of three nationalities (1911) (14782708115).jpg

Identifier: friendlyfacesoft00beth (find matches)
Title: Friendly faces of three nationalities
Year: 1911 (1910s)
Authors: Betham-Edwards, Matilda, 1836-1919
Subjects:
Publisher: London : Chapman and Hall, ltd.
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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Text Appearing Before Image:
Amelia Blandford Edwards: "Passing under the railway arch on the road to Creeting, we obtain a sweet view of the sleepy old-world townling; it rises above the meadows, the little river Gipping winding by pollard willows towards Stowmarket, on either side pastures bright with cowslips, wood anemones and ladysmocks, the whole rustic and pastoral as well can be. That delicious path reaches from Stowmarket to Ipswich—no prettier twelve-mile walk in eastern England. No sooner are we out of Needham Market than we are in Creeting—and what a new world here for the quick eyes of the little Londoner! Even in 1892 the place seemed to me rusticity itself, hardly changed, indeed, from the Creeting of my childhood. The road lies amidst cornfields, in the month of May emerald green, and stretches of brown fallow, here and there a neat thatched cottage with white-washed walls breaking the solitude. The farm-houses hereabouts are all of a pattern, brown-roofed, white-walled, at some distance from the road, yet fronting it, as if the builders wished to give a peep of the outside world.There is no attempt at picturesqueness or effect.On either side are farm buildings and horsepond,"
Text Appearing After Image:
Amelia Blandford Edwards: "flower garden and orchard being out of sight, the whole, indeed, of unpoetic appearance. But when was the country unpoetic to a happy, petted, urban child? We can fancy the large-eyedAmy—as she was called later, although the name was unsuited to her strong character—being lifted out of Uncle Williams gig, and taking in everything, the kitchen, spacious, spick and span, from the roof hanging home-cured hams pickled in old harvest beer and spice, the frothing milk-pails being brought in from the dairy, the keep-ing room with its appetising board, everything of the best and everything home-made, the greatest novelty of all being the jug of harvest beer and goblets, invariable adjuncts of the farm-house tea-table. There were a few books stowed away in cup-boards—Clarissa Harlowe I remember ferreting out among others when I was twelve years old. But more attractive than any library was the old-fashioned garden at the back of the house. Here I found nothing changed except that a few trees have been planted. From the walled-in fruit and vegetable garden with its borders of box we pass into the orchard she loved so well, in which, perhaps, the happiest hours of her happy childhood were spent. At the time of my visit above-named the fruit trees showed delicate white and pink blossom, and the lone:, damp grass was dotted with cowslips; but in those summer holi- days, mother and daughter would almost live out of doors, some cool spot of orchard or garden being chosen, and diversion never wanting; the harvest field, the duck-pond, the poultry yard close by, rustic sights and sounds, making the London home seem far off and dreamlike.

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