TOURING ENGLAND WITH THE ALL BLACKS.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 230, 28 September 1935, Page 2 (Supplement)

TOURING ENGLAND WITH THE ALL BLACKS.

From Trafalgar to Coventry.

SEVERAL weeks ago the .1935 All Blacks left New Zealand for their tour of the British Isles. And now, after our interesting tour of the Kingdom of the Danes, let us cross the Channel again and pick up the trail of our fellow countrymen. All aboard the magic carpet, then, and hold on tightly. Whoo-00-00-sh! And here we are, down in Trafalgar Square, in the heart of London, which will he just the best juniping-off place in the world.

First let us find the town which lias been the training centre for all the "All Black" teams—Newton Abbott. Have you noticed, by the way, what delightfully musical names so many of the places in England have, and how many of them are, so to speak, "double-barrelled"? But where is Newton Abbott? Let's go a little way across London in a north-westerly direction, past Baker Street (where "Sherlock Holmes" lived) and Madame Tussaud's waxworks, to Paddington station. It is ( interesting to remember that in England the railways are not all under; Government control, as they are with us, hut are managed by companies. There is the Southern railway, connecting London with Dover and the southern seaports, the London and North Eastern, the London-Midland-

Scottish—each with its separate station in London, and its lines branching out all over the country. And Paddington is the beginning of the Great Western system. A couple of hours in the Cornish express, through the misty autumn showers and lush green fields of Berkshire and Wiltshire, and* into Somerset. And now we begin to notice, in some of the passengers who join the train, a pleasant softening of speech; their "r's" are prominent; their "s's" sound more like "x's". Then we swing southward into glorious Devon, past Exeter, with its grey square Cathedral towers piercing the sky, through Teignmouth, with red cliffs facing the sea, and so to Newton Abbott, a delightful town of some 12,000 people, nestling at the head of the Teign Estuary. Here are some delightful old buildings, perhaps the most fascinating being the fourteenth-century chapel of St. Leonard's. And—what is more important to our All Blacks —we are in that part of England which has the mildest climate in winter, not unlike our own. In fact, from here down into Cornwall, some of the cities have cabbage trees and flax from our own New Zealand growing in the parks.

It now becomes clear why our men ; played their first match against a team from Devon and Cornwall. You will remember that it was played at Devonport—only thirty miles from Newton Abbott. Devonport is not now a separate town, but is part of the famous city of Ply-

moutli. And so,- during their visit here, the All Blacks have walked the historic streets, rubbing shoulders with soldiers and marines from the great barracks there, and with sailors from the fleet and from the naval barracks. They have strolled along the fine esplanade of Plymouth Hoe, where Francis Drake once played his game of bowls, and where his statue now stands, looking down over Drake's Island and the Cattewatcr. Do you remember the words of the song ? — Xamder lumes the island, yarnder lis the ships, Wi* sailor lads a-dancin' heel and toe. No doubt, too, they have walked down on the Barbican, and seen the stone which marks the spot whence the Pilgrim Fathers set out to find the New World. But we must not linger. Let us on to the scene of the next match. Up we go, through Bristol, and

Gloucester, and, passing close to Warwick, where the ancient castle of the Kingmaker still stands, and to Strat-ford-on-Avon, where Shakespeare was born and died, We come to Coventry, only a few miles from the town and school of Rugby, where our national football game was invented. A beautiful city it is, on tlio border of the "Black Country," and famous for its manufacture of bicycles, many of which are used out hero in far-away New Zealand. Coventry is famous, too, for a beautiful legend, told in fitting language by the great Lord Tennyson. He begins it by saying, I waited for the train at Coventry . .. To watch the three tall spires— And then he goes on to tell the story of the gracious Lady Godiva. But now we must interrupt our trail until next week, when we shall again follow the steps of the players of whom we are so proud.