Evening star., 1909-05-09
.ENGlAND'S FAIRES1 VILLAGE
TOWN OF BROADWAY, WITH IT'S
LITTLE TUDOR COTTAGES.
Picturesque Old Hostelry, the Lyon
Arms-Relics Of the Eliza
bethan Period.
The Spectator" in the Outlook.

The loveliest village in England? Well,
the Spectator is in two minds about that.
In fact. he is inclined to suspect that
there are at least six loveliest villages
in England, among which Broadway is
certainly not least A delicious little
backwater as yet untouched by that
creeping blight of red BRICK and slate
which is slowly Wiping the picturesque
from off the face of old England, its tiny
Tudor cottages Of creamy stone. gray of
gable except where moss and lichen stain
them rich shades of green and gold,
straggle down two sides of diminutive
village green and trail sinuously of to-
ward the distant Cotswolds. Thatch there
is on many Wobbly and hunchbacked
plastered cottage. and timber there is,
and here and there a stately Tudor man
sion but the predominant type Is the Sc
date stone cottage with carved drip
stones, marvellous old stone chimneys,
queer little pent roofs over doorways and
window lights loaded In every quaint
conceit Imaginable. From end to end of
the single street not a jarring note Iron
nonSer. draper and butcher have accom-
modated themselves with shop-fronts as
quaint as the rest. AS the Spectator look
ed, yokel in velveteens strobe down the
village. the carriers cart. a Noah's ark
on wheels. went rumbling by, followed
by a basket-chaisa of unguessable an
tiquity. A pair of hound pups set up
clumsy gambol on the tiny green. II was
SO much more like Stratford than STRAIT
ford itself that the Spectator aould not
but mourn that the bard of Avon had the
misfortune to be born full twelve miles
away.
Modern Invasion.
That Broadway is unsophsticated the
Spectator would not undertake to say 4
scandalous modern motor train runs as
near as it dares to the quaint old street
a great deal too near for the peace Of the
villagers, who find themselves observed
of too many inquiring Americans Gene
are the artists who made the fame of
Broadway; gone. that is. all except f. d.
Millet. who clings stanchly to his ancient
house and his precious reha bilitated pri-
ory. His is the first vine-draped house
as you enter the village street. But al
though Abbey and Sargent and Alfred
Parsons have fed before the tourist mob,
and Morris, Rossetti and Burne-Jones
have deserted not only the little tower
on the hill but the earth as we'll, Broad
way can never again De what 1t was be-
fore they found it out, forgotten rem
nant Of rich, forgotten past.
u Jaques" reads the sign over the
old curiosity shop midway down the
street and though the dealer does not
pronounce himself "Jawe-wees," it is to
be feared that he is not unaware of the
value of a fine old Shakespearean patro-
nymic. Maybe there's a rife range be-
hind the shop, where worm holes may be
drilled in antiques with bird shot after
the most approved American methods.
The Spectator did not investigate, but he
knows that an amazing store of antique
carved chests is always to be found at
that tiny shop. and j. Jaques Is by no
means vague about the value Of the me-
dieval carvings.
The Lyon Arms.
You must pay. too, If you want the
sensation Of life in the sixteenth century
hostelry. the Lyon Arms. But how
gloriously worth the price. The Crom-
well room was bespoken when the Spec
tator turned in at the sign post of the
bear and crane, SO he missed the chance
to sleep ip the bed that once supported
the mighty limbs OF the stif old Pro-
tector. And 1t was fortunate mischance,
for he would not willingly have ex-
changed for that stately chamber his
own amazing room under the caves. The
Lyon Arms is one of those delightful
houses in which no angle Is right an
gle and no room on level with any
other. The Spectator had navigated the
wavy old floors. the worn old stairs to his
door, whose hand-wrought hasps and
hinges were in themselves worth the
whole price of admission. Behold. when
he opened that door and stood within his
chamber he was still at the foot Of a
fight of five steep steps. Mounting these,
he surveyed the oldest room it has ever
been his lot to encounter. The side walls
were barely three feet high. The heavily
beamed and cross -beamed roof slanted at
an angle of forty-five degrees. On one
side the roof slant was cut by highly
original dormer, mullioned with loaded
lights. But the chief fascination OF the
room lay in two abortive doors one in
the roof and one set high In the wall
above the practical entrance door OF
the chamber. The Spectator lost no time
In trying both. The one in the roof defied
him. though he climbed upon a huge
press to reach it, When he had risked his
life and limb on chair balanced crazily
over the stairway he contrived to unbolt
the other. 1t swung creaking inward
upon a delicious dusky Elizabethan gar
ret. whose mighty rafters might have
looked down on who knows what pas
sages Of high romance!
Search for Relics.
The Spectator used to think that IL he
had his dearest wish it would be to fall
heir to storeful of old books. He thinks
now that he would rather fall heir to the
Lyon Arms. The happy proprietor Of
the fine old hostelry--it has had license
uninterruptedly since 154O--is having a
series of enchanting surprises. Genera
tons OF imbecile landlords have sauander-
ed their money upon lath and plaster to
cover up the magnificent oak timbers and
easements and fireplaces, and the present
owner. being bit of an antiquary In his
way is uncoverins new treasures every
day. He showed the Spectator how in the
smoking room he had just torn out
modern range, disclosing a superb old
chimneypace that you can stand upright
under with the original stone ingle nook.
The bar looked like a setting for ''She
Stoops to Conquer" All over the place
were broken patches in the plaster where
the landlord had been sounding for old
windows or other secret treasures. That