COUNTRY LIFE
I have been reading a great deal lately about the obligation put upon parish councils to survey and define their local bridle- and foot-paths. I can imagine no more delightful occupation— if one had nothing else to do. But most parish councillors (and lately I have been in close contact with them) are extremely busy folk, with a practical rather than an aesthetic interest in the countryside. Their first concern is to make the most of the land, especially in these days of agricultural, revival as a grim necessity: Their second is to prevent passers-by from interrupting that patriotic effort, either through ignorance or idle mischief. Now these last two vices are common to us all when we are out of our own setting. A traveller, even a ingn on holiday, tends to be just that little less responsible toward society than he is when at home and fastened to his familiar job. Enthusiasts for the freedom of the rambler need to remember that odd human quirk when they are grousing about the obdurate and land-jealous farmer and land-owner. A field of wheat, a fine hay-crop, a meadow whose several gates withhold cattle from straying—these are a constant anxiety in a country whose population is mostly town-bred and unaware of rural values. When the footpaths are at last defined and access to them is ensured, something much more positive will have to be done about educating the holiday-making public in the economics and courtesies of the countryside. We may welcome every kind of literature on the matter. It is a healthy sign that there is an ever-growing demand for, books about the open-air life, the way of the country, the technique of arm and garden.
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