Walking-Stick Papers

her, the other way round, it could be done in this country at all. It's a pleasant

lt to "meet" an ordinary Englishman to whom you are not known in a railway carriage. With the big 'uns, however, the business appears to be simple enough. Foolish doings do clutter up one

health and was advised by doctors to clear out at once. So I bought a steamship ticket, packed a kit bag, crossed the wat

equip myself with the means of making others here. I was unarmed, so to say-a "Yank" in an obviously hostile

errand man stationed before my place of abode. He was an amiable soul, whose companionable nature, worldly wisdom and topographical knowledge I much appreciated.

elloc. Mr. Belloc had written me a note thanking me for these reviews. I decided to write Mr. Belloc that I was in

everal years, with other literary chores on the side. I communicated to Mr. Chesterton the fact that I had come over to look about, told him my belief that he was one of the noblest and mo

stimulating; it soon fastens itself upon you to the extent that it is exceedingly difficult to stop indulgence and i

Englishman I saw over there-simply threw up

. It's not done," he declared. "You can't meet Englishmen in that fashion. These people will thi

he had to stay there where he lived and try to hold his head up while I could slink off back home. My friend pointed out to me that Mr. Chesterton and the other gentlemen had only my wo

imate two page account of his movements for the past couple of weeks or so. He had just been out to sea in his boat, the Nona, and

lay in a Welsh port. Then he must speak at Eton. He would be "available," however, at the beginning of the next week, when he hoped I would "take a meal" with him. Perha

nsfield. Mr. Walpole apologised very greatly for seeming so curtly inhospitable, but he was only in London for a short time and had difficulty in s

station toward the old part of the village and to the little house Overroads, you enter, as like as not, as

nquire if you have an appointment with her husband. She always speaks of Mr. Chesterton as "my husband." It develops that the letter you sent fixing the appointment got balled up in some way. It fu

arkably red face. And a smallish moustache, lightish in colour against this background. His expression is extraordinari

a habit of sticking things that interest him into the pocket of his dressing gown. Where, do you suppose, is his dressing gown?

but he cannot remember where it was published. Now he has lost his glasses, ridiculously small glasses, which he has been

journalist." Did not know that there was an audience in America for his kind of writing. Wonders whether democracy as carried on there "on such

es to have a little fringe about him," he says. And then tells a lit

until he told them to stop it. Because, he said, he felt that rather he should touch his hat to the policem

tea, as I noticed a chugging car awaiting in front of the house. "You must come to see me again," said the grand young man of England. The last I saw o

he haunts beloved of Thackeray, and everybody else you ever heard of. Pleasant place, the Garrick. Something like our Player

thing, would look as if he had: silk topper, spats, buttonhole bouquet. Asked me if I had yet been to Ascot. "Oh, you must go to Ascot." Bu

the King's English. I was endeavouring to explain that I had le

it?" said

st up and

skido

said, "I left without much preparation." And then we spoke

him?" inquire

"I can't see

e him?" queri

uite fail," I said, "to apprec

pole go

of years, and he was leaving shortly for Russia. "Is there any one here you would like me to help you to see?" he asked. Que

cent autobiographical writings, which we had been discussing. "Bennett, of course you should see Arnold Bennett." Great friend of Walpole's. "And Mrs. Bello

e going. Some stupid affair, he said, for the evening. We walked together around into the

loved the place. However, just the outside of this "mausoleum" in Pall Mall scared Mr. Hopkinson Smith, who had been inside a few clubs here and there, and who spoke, in a sketch of

ionary, probably a su

nder arrest at the door

eld on suspicion to a

ll

a bull neck. Somehow he suggested to me-though I do not clearly remember the picture-the portrait of W

ers on platters, to whom he pays no attention-trot after him. A driving, forceful, dominating character, apparently. Looks at his watch

nd." Tells you all sorts of unusual places to go; how, somewhere in the north, you can walk along a Roman wall for e

, he follows you down the steps when you go. Later forgets, in the crush of his affairs, all about thi

One penny." This had been the cry o

ir. Britain at war!" suddenly they

ures. Also, I became a refugee, to some extent. And, well-I "beat it" back 'ome aga