HOW IT STRIKES THE COLONIAL.

Waikato Independent, Volume V, Issue 323, 12 January 1907, Page 6

HOW IT STRIKES THE COLONIAL.

'AN AUSTRALIAN CRITICISM

1 1 the first of a series of papers he f Contributed to the “Spectator” Mr. if J. H. M. Abbott, author of “1 ommy Cornstalk,” writes :—“lt is not so b lonely to camp in the middle of a plain by yourself on a moon- ; flight night as it is for the first few | days after your arrival in London, | before y,ou have presented any of ■ your letters of introduction. It is s not so lonely to be. lying in a firing- ; l* nc lor the first time, with your ri' fight and left hand ; neighbour ton yards away from you, as it is to v, walk down Oxford Street thinking : 'Amongst all these hurrying millions there isn’t one human soul who cares y- about me, or for whom, as a matter j, of fact, I care two straws.’ And ir: these—the great plain and the first firing-line—are the two loneliest sitr nations of which the writer has any ; personal knowledge. There is no lone- ?-■■■ liness like .the loneliness of a great v city, and no great city wherein one may realise the depths of solitude as 5 in London. Is it so in all England ? you weftider. Does every Englishman hate and distrust a stranger ? Arc V the only people with whom the Outs' lander may engage iu conversation >.-■ German waiters seeking two-pence, or hall-porters similarly anxious for emolument ? . . . At a little table in the hotel dining-room I sat oppo- ■ site a well-groomed gentleman of middie age for several meals during those • , three sad days. ‘A wet day !’ I ven- . tured on the first occasion. ‘Yes’ ad- ; mitted my vis-a-vis, and the converU sation languished. From the tone of ' the 'Yes,’ it was obvious that it must needs languish. A genial policeman ; ; in Trafalgar Square of whom I asked ’ the way late one night, and who r made friendly observations as to the ■ difficulties of London’s geography to ?.■ strangers, was the first human being in London with whom I spoke at any length. I almost felt inclined tc 5 ask him to run me in, he was so good ;A, a soul. Thereafter was a ’bus-driver b —and always since one has respected 'bus-drivers. How one hated England and the English in those days ! vj It rained ; there was never any sunlight. Everywhere were the hurrying : people with the sad faces ; always the roar of the immense traffic, it. the parks the trees were dead, or seemed so. When one lay down tc sleep at night always came the curi\ ious reflection—a strangely disco m- : forting one—‘All about me, in this : one city, are as many people, packed together on a piece of land about the size of a fairly large sheep-station, a; we have in-the whole of Australia, and I don’t know one of them ; and I, the only people who are interested at y all in my existence are the hotel-peo-ple, because they don’t quite know , yet whether I can pay my bill !’ •' ' Truly, it was a sad little period, ex- " ‘ ceedingly tinctured with nostalgia,. i and it took weeks and months tc - mpye the impression of England , which no doubt through one’s owr foolishness it.planted in one’s mind. ] write of it merely to sl)ow how the i; average stranger must often, iu the v first days'of his sojourn in England he unconsciously' set against the country and its people. . And so, very often, , incalculable harm is done to those Imperial relations which most Eng- !■ lishmen, and most Australians, desire to see strengthened and cultivat- • ed. Many of ouiVpeople do not stay long enough in England to learn tc love the country, as they inevitable must sooner or later, nor arc they • 'themselves in their best light by the English with whom they come in con- :.■■■■'. tact. The writer knOws personally at least two Australian public men whoso opinion carries weight in Australia, who, ardent Imperialists before coming to England, .have returneel not a little inclined towards the . unsatisfactory ‘We’d-separate-if-it ;• were-safe’ political frame of mind so, with all apologias for insisting ;. upon a distinction between the terms : ’English' and ‘Australian,’ .one endeavours to account a little for the fact, which is obvious to any one who goes into the question, seriously, that the distinction does not grow ‘ loss. When, as months go on, and , one has seen the sun again, seen the i‘ brilliant awakening of spring in England—nowhere can there be anything ! more peacefully beautiful—learned a y little to know its people and underit stand their ways-, and grasped somei; thing of the significance of custom l' and tradition, one cannot but honest- |. ly confess to a certain ‘falling in , love’ with the country. England i , • grows upon you. The trim little i; fields and hedge-girt roads and lanes, which at first were so small 1 and so cramping, have a fascination of their own. The slow, appointed orderliness which seems to rule the whole of life makes itself clear as a part of the reason for England’s greatness. That very greatness, you : realise, does truly exist. You begin to understand why, In spite of much that is wrong, and many- evils that would destroy a weaker people, the , people of England, still dwelling in their little islands, rank amongst the greatest people in the world. Of course, if you are a decent Australian ' you will never for a moment admit that England is as good a country as Australia, or that an Englishman is as good as an Australian—any more than a loyal Englishman would allow the truth of the converse—but you will conceive a great and abiding respect for the Old Land and the Old People.”