Turning once more, my father became still again for several seconds,

contemplating the steps before him. Eventually, he climbed them a second time,

very deliberately. This time he continued on across the grass until he had

almost reached the summerhouse, then turned and came walking slowly back, his

eyes never leaving the ground. In fact, I can describe his manner at that moment

no better than the way Miss Kenton puts it in her letter; it was indeed 'as

though he hoped to find some precious jewel he had dropped there.'

 

But I see I am becoming preoccupied with these memories and this is perhaps a

little foolish. This present trip represents, after all, a rare opportunity for

me to savour to the full the many splendours of the English countryside, and I

know I shall greatly regret it later if I allow myself to become unduly

diverted. In fact, I notice I have yet to record here anything of my journey to

this city - aside from mentioning briefly that halt on the hillside road at the

very start of it. This is an omission indeed, given how much I enjoyed

yesterday's motoring.

 

I had planned the journey here to Salisbury with considerable care, avoiding

almost entirely the major roads; the route might have seemed necessarily

circuitous to some, but then it was one that enabled me to take in a fair number

of the sights recommended by Mrs J. Symons. in her excellent volumes, and I must

say I was well pleased with it. For much of the time it took me through

farmland, amidst the pleasant aroma of meadows, and often I found myself slowing

the Ford to a crawl to better appreciate a stream or a valley I was passing. But

as I recall, I did not actually disembark again until I was quite near