England All The Way

ENGLAND ALL THE WAY JAMES TURLE Author of In England I Live Best With Frontispiece By Eileen Imle NEW YORK THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1936 THE LAME COBBLER From a Pencil Drawing by Eileen Turlt TO All good Physicians Fishermen and Friends Let your hook always be cast in the stream where you least expect it there will be a man I know well, and for whose opinions I have the greatest respect, but I do not see him as often as I should like. Owing to his work for he is a Night-Watchman employed by a well known firm of Contractors he is very often a long time away, and even if he is working close by, I can, of course, only see him in the evening So long was it since we had met, that I had indeed wondered if he had gone for good but one evening in late August, when the long hot summer was drawing to a close, I came upon him quite unexpectedly within a short distance of my house, Its a long time said the Night-Watchman, a long time since I seen you A very long time, said I Where have you been tor Surrey he answered, spoiling a little more of old England, least ways my mates was He lent back against his upturned barrow and sighed. You been away again he asked presently No, said ace What, not in three years he said quickly No, said I again. Short o money he inquired sympathetically Not more than usual I replied doctors knocked off my walking He whistled softly, then he took out his pipe, tapped it very very gently against his boot, pressed down what was left, filled it from a flat tin and lit it just as he had always lit it Did I ever tell you, he asked, why Im a watchman No, I answered Heart, he said quietly Harley Street specialist, friend of my panel doctor, half-hour or more he were a-listeningand a-tapping then Good day he says all sort of solemn like Never see a bloke what smiled less Good day he says again, Til write to your doctor Can I go to work I says No he says Can I go for a holiday I says No he says What can I do I says Orspital he says Is it my heart I says taken aback Not altogether he says solemn like Is it my lungs I says Not alto gether he says, more solemn Is it my artries I says Not altogether he says, more solemn than ever Well, what is it I says The whole blooming lot of em he says and never smiled, not once he didnt Eleven years ago he went on, thats when it were, but Im still here anyway He got up and put two or three little pieces of wood tinder his kettle viii Hows the missus I asked Fine, thank you, shade stouter though . . Came out of that house I did, walked down that there Harley Street feeling like a corpse people looked at me pitying like One old feller selling primroses April it was, but cold and snowing a little Primroses he asks Primroses I thought, shant never see them a blowing no more down Devonshire way Primroses he says again. Ere, cheer up, chum, he says, them doctors dont know everything Kind sort of old feller he looked. Well, Td put two tanners into my side pocket to have a couple of pints with when I come out, but I didnt want no beer now, twould have choked me. Here you are, I says. No you dont, he says, handing one back, you go and have one with me you looks as you needs it and right or wrong I had it and it done me no harm neither. The kettle began to sing and then to boil he got up and put some tea in the same old teapot. Pleased to see you again, he said presently as he handed me my cup. Its a bit hot, so hold it steady Writinganother book Not yet, I told him. Well then, why dont you You cant go travelling and write about that, same as you done before, but you can sit in your garden and potter about these old lanes as long as they i lanes, and then write some thing of what you seen in days gone by Something for ix ace folks to read as cant go walking at all, and got no garden...