The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1893-04-16

many. still provide one of the most interest
ng sociologlc studies to be found In any
land.
Although many characteristics of En-,
glish villages differ In different shires, or to
different parts Of the same shire, they all
leave the same typical picture in the men,
DRY, when considered as "a part Of the land
scape. | never yet came to an English viii
lRRe, and l have visited hundreds on foot,
that IL had not the same general massing Of
picturesque effects all others. This, too,
whatever its relative typographical situa-
ton. 1t was just the same whether nestled
in an Avon, Wharfe, Derwent, or lamar
vale; dumped upon breezy southern down;
half hidden in the shadows of a midland
hill or peak topping along the edge Of a
ragged chine or flowery burn; or wedged
into the stony face of some dreary northern
moor.
There it stood, ever distinct and charac-
teristic picture Ia itself. A rift Of low out
lying cottages tiny splatches Of white and
gray aud red, at either side, became lost to-
ward the center IN luxurious shrubbery.
Then a few gables, quaint and old. Then
another mass of foliage denser and CT darker
hue. Then jumbled mass of higher gray,
and red, roofs and outjuttingsof more pre-.
tentious structures. And finally the
highest mass OF foliage dominated by per-
haps a battlemented roof, above which
always rises a huge, square centuries-old
tower that tells of the English parish
church, from Lands End TO the misty
Chevios hills.
/ sometimes think, wonderful and COM
paot, a store house of historic relics, OF
garnered art and of splendor in cathedral,
castle, hall and monastic ruin, as old Eng
land truly il, that after all the sweetest D TT
Of ones wanderings is experienced away
from the beaten lines of travel among these
| gray old nests, which the centuries have
softened and beautified even in their age and
decay.
Come with me then, vagrantly into a few
Of these lovely old home spots Of rural
| England. Not far to the north OF damp and
| grimy Liverpool is pretty Ormskrk. 1t is
| half village and half town, for the spindles
are humminR here as almost everywhere in
! Lancashire and Y orkshire. Two huge,
| white roads leading from green fields, which
we're impossible moses in olden times ris-
| ing 20 gentle eminence intersect the place,
and the Verdure growth of 400 years almost
hides from view the nesting ancient homes,
| the quaint old shops, the sleepy, restful
inns, and the historic church itself.
| The old church looming above the red
tiles of the cottage roofs is curiously sur
| mounted by separate tower and steeple; the
| pile so gray. mellow and ivyNmassed as to
| involuntarily suggest a gigantic tree
! Topped of in its lower trunk, where
| the huge battlemented tower stops, out
| Of whose edge, where the steeple rises,
! has sprouted q second slender tree. The
! tradition goes that two capricious maiden
sisters, DESTROYS of raising some sacred me-
mortal, agreed upon erecting upon Orms-
| kirk a tower and steeple, yet, dis
! agreeing as to uniting and connecting their
work, they finally expended all their wealth
and energies upon both, each independent
! of the other. The earliest of the renowned
! Derbyl and Stanleys are buried here
Messy, lichened, slumberous, grave, the
entire place is wondrous picture of
tender repose, and is but one Of scores Of
winsome Lancashire villages, blending, low
! lying and hushed, In the pleasant landscape
! between the thunderous towns Of mills
What precious old bits of gray and sun
| shine and green are the half deserted vii
! laRes OF Cockermouth and Hawkshead up
here ia the English lake region. the former
in Cumberland. and the latter just inside
Lancashire. where that county pushes a
rugged arm up among the scars, rells and
pixies up the English Alps Cockermouth
itself, where Wordsworth was born, is but
one Of the many quaint old Cumbriap viii
! lagos, which seem as ancient and NOISY as
the rocks out Of which they we're hewn. 1t
Is a sweet, dim, dreamful and sonRful old
spot, for the Derwent river sweeps melodi-
ouslf by. and the Cocker river, from which
the villages derives it's name, is emptied
into the Derwent at the village side.
| WordsUorths father, John Wordsworth,