The times. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1890-1903, 1892-07-16
WAKEMAN'S WANDERINGS
COME OLD CATHEDRAL TOWNSHIP.
Pleasures OF tho Road--An Eloquent
lean Roads-The Ancient City of Exeter.
It's Glorious Environment, Sunny As
pect and Noble Cathedral.

ITS Glorious Environment, Sunny As
peot and Noble Cathedral.
Copyright, 1892, by Edgar L. wakeman.I
EXETER, England, July2.-Nature wears
Nher aspects than those Of sunshine and
gladness in these tight little" British isl
ands.
But you find sovereignty Of citation
and exultation in wandering alone among
the historic and scenic glories of any land.
A good staff or stick, stout pair of legs, a
receptive mind and above all CHEEKY and
sympathetic heart, whatever your luck,
are the regal companions for such loiter-
ings.
And nature never fails TO appear 70 sin
gle devotees at her myriad doors and win
dows with radiant welcomings. How
witching is even this foggy morning, half
disclosing the wondrous charms Of valley.
mead and streaml at times scarcely can
your hand be seen before you for the
strange eddies. curlings and fantastic con-
volutions Of the fog. There is your road,
hard as British conservatism" beneath
your feet--one Of the best and surest and
bringing to the heart of the American
wanderer upon it the kSen and patriotic
pang that those of his gIander land are so
shamed by honest comparison.
Drip, drip, drip from the leaves Of the
hedges into water basins of rock, the great
drops striking like silver pellets upon
swinging glass; until the very chimes of
the fairies are rung In your ears beside the
road Not a rod away, but invisible, riv-
ulets Of the nights making wimple from
rocks TO pools, in all manner of melodio
runs, from the staccato Of tenor trills to
the baritone minors of stately psalms.
Here and there, as the heavy breezes
move trihe, come the hesitant pipe Of
stirring bird, the patter Of wild hares' feet
upon the slippery leaves, the shutting
scamper Of some skulking pheasant. the
complaining chatter of rocks and DAVIS,
the half caught, hoarse resonance Of hid
den waterfall, while faint and far and
strangely muffled, from little bamlets in
the distance, the notes Of school bells steal
family along the folds Of the clinging mist.
But in the CHEEKY old English inn, in the
presence of mullins white as snow. bacon
crisp and brown, an omelet as yellow az
frost painted beech leaf, a jug OF clothed
cream as sweet as a nut kernel and fra
grant brewing of tea in the delft pot under
the Loosely" you have reason TO rejoice In
the blood Jingle that comes from doing a
half dozen miles before breakfast over
perfect road, through genuine British
fog.
1t was on such a morning that | came
over the east Devonshire hills and halted
at a wayside inn, still high up among their
wooded heights as / neared the old cathe
dral town Of Exeter. As the fog lifted
could see from my inn window cart after
cart jogging comfortably on to the Satur-
day market day sales in Exeter. From the
busting good wife Of the inn inquired
the distance they had come.
From round about Bow, Copplestone
and North Tawton," she answered.
And how far is the farthest of those
places?" asked.
North Tawton may be likes ten or
twelve mile, sir, at least from Exeter"
/ told her thought that a good distance
for a heavily laden cart drawn by only one
horse
"Contrarywise. she retorted cheerily
and Chulmleigh. twenty-five mile, sir, by
hill and dip; and many carts, sir, do be
loaded as heavy as a ton and half and
two tons, sir. American beasties 'aven't
the might of Devon cattle, I'm told, sir, +"
she concluded half quizzically.
Quite right she was, / told her. But
clipped the wings of her honest Devonshire
pride by also relating, may the saints for
give me- how we did not require that sort
of cattle in America; as we had railways
between all villages, all over our farms Il
could have truthfully said. railway mort
gsges), did chores on roller skates, and
went TO the milking and visited neighbors
in tram cars propelled by electricity; for
all Of which she made me pay handsomely
at the reckoning.
That morning, all the way to Exeter,
alongside those huge carts which bowled
along under their great loads as easily as
over a cathedral floor, and in a thousand
other places on the highways of England,
ireland and Scotland, / have inexpressibly
longed for the power TO bodily transfer
some Of these grand old roads TO our coun
try: to make American millionaires, who
may still have American pride left In
them, see their beauty, magnifcence and
utility beyond those of all things money
and patriotism can give to communities,
and TO compel American farmers to know
what might be the matchless independence
Of their lives and living with these perfect
defenses for their toll and homes and
graharies against most Of the monopo-
listic and corner" denominations of our
land.
In five years~time have tramped along
5000 miles of British roads Each time
/ step my feet upon their broad, firm,
even surface every drop of American
blood in me tingles with shame at the
thought Of the mud pixies and bottom
less road sloughs OF our own splendid
country-rich, great and strong enough
to match the roads of Europe without
a weeks delay. And yet for five months
Of every year, and in a lesser degree
for the other seven, half the people of
our farming communities are imprisoned
and impoverished helplessly at home. AS
one result the people of the whole country
pay, in an indirect road tax, through
annual sharp advances on all food necessi-
ties Of life, all of which the farmers lose, a
sum each year enormous enough to main
tain as superb roads as England anywhere
possesses, around every section Of cult
vable land in the entire United States.
But our wise American economists, and
our unwise and often suspicious and shift
less farmers who, in the fall, winter and
early spring months, prefer to resentfully
brood over their filled and rotting gran
aries and build new political parties rath-