SPECTATOR COMPETITION No. 117

Report by R. S. Stanier A prize of £5 was offered fpr a fragment from the preliminary discussion between a group or Hardy's rustics who are thinking of visiting London this year.

Entries for this competition were disappointingly few : still fewer those that I felt Hardy would have owned. And yet the terms of reference were surely not alarmingly stiff. The difficulty in composing pastiche is more often in the matter than the manner, and I had hoped that, with transport problems so burning and so topical, competitors would find that the job of bringing a party from Wesiex to London would afford ample scope for deliberation and discussion. However, most of their rustics were inclined either to grumble that they had not been invited up for the Festival or to propose waiting a year and seeing the Coronation. Of competitors who resurrected -genuine Hardy characters nearly all chose those of Under the Green- wood Tree ; some of the other novels might perhaps have yielded richer gleanings.

Some good original.(I will risk the adjective) phrases were achieved. I liked Allan M. Laing's ". London is a dangerous place for simple souls ; you'd be like a mouse in a threshing machine." : Eric Swainson's " Raily-ways a-grummelling an a-screeling under the ground " and A. M. Sayers's " We shall be fair run off our legs and our brains will be that addled with -marvels we shall get 'em all mixed up arterwards so that no one will belave we've been to Lunnon at all ; let's take our exploits with moderation, neighbours." First prize of £3 to A. D. C. Peterson, who convincingly transplants Mr. Penny and tranter Dewy to our world of C licences and restaurant-cars ; £2 to G. J. Blundell, mainly by virtue of his musical interlude ; honourable mention to Guy Innes for his skilful use of genuine Hardy material.

FIRST PRIZE (A. D. C. PETERSON) " I be a poor wambling man," said Leaf, " and 'tis not to be thought they would sell their tickets to such as I." Mr. Penny was taken aback. " 'Od rabbit it, the poor soul's in the right. I call to mind the time when `twas the Company—Budrnouth Light Railway, they call 'en— and then tickets was issued to all, of high and low degree. But now 'tis different."

" That's right, my sonnies," broke in the tranter, who had just been refused his C licence. " They be all government lines now, Tommy Leaf ; and not being in great need of cash, you see, `tis not in reason the government should want to fill up its coaches and its corridors and its dining saloons with such terrible silly folk as you."

" You see, neighbours," Leaf went on, " if I was to put my head in at his little windy, and 'a was to ask, all of a sudden, was I an angler, or a God-fearing man, or some such similar question, 'twould take a deal of courage to answer 'en, 'a b'lieve. And you know, neighbours, I was never a man of great valour."

SECOND PRIZE

(G. J. BLUNDELL)

" Well, my sonnies," said Reuben Dewy, " Pa'ason Mayble have behaved like a man, that I will say. To talk of taking the choir to Lunnon wi' he this summer—that do be proper nice—out and out nice."

"Ay," said Michael Mail, grudgingly, in the tone of one who, iLhe agreed with anybody, did so only with reluctance. " But I be thinking `tis the wrong year for us to be making the journey wi' he. I was down to Casterbridge a week agone, and Simon Willow were telling me ' twas last year we should ha' made the venture, naybours, such doings and junketings as there were wi' some great festival they had on." " Were it a harvest festival ? " asked Thomas Leaf,'" I could have sung 'em a very pretty treble to their hymns, 'a do ',neve."

" But if so be as 'tis true that we'm a year late, then 'tis a sad thing, souls," put in Robert Penny. "Ah, to be late's a sad thing, as I mind how poor William Tyler said, that went to church but once a year, at Ascensiontide, and then to sing 'All Hail the Power' to 'Diadem'. but one year 'a lost count and went a Sunday late, and had to sing 'Aberyst- with,' a tune that the poor soul hated worse nor poison." "Well, well," said the tranter, " I do reckon festivals must make precious little difference to a grand place like Lunnon. 'Tis all festivals there, I'm thinking, and belike they don't want too many crowds at once, and we do make a pretty little crowd on our own, as you can see."

HIGHLY COMMENDED (Guv INNEs) " Well, my sonnies," said Saul Wiregrass, the faggot-binder, to his rustic hearers in the tap-room of The Silent Woman, if so be we be minded to go to London, `twould be better if we were all three sixes again, instead of aged men. But if London 'tis to be, why should us go this year, when next year be Coronation Year, a believe ? "

This temporising was not approved by Timothy Pye, the higgler. "Oh ! " he exclaimed, "that what's shaped so venerable should talk such folly ! If we be aged men now, us would be twelve month nearer the churchyard by Crownation Day : and 'twould be such a nunny- watch in they crowded streets, and so terrible far to get there, 'twould be a mortal poor chance for us to see veil or mark of all the day's brave doings."

" Be jowned if I care for 'ee ! " retorted Granfer Wiregrass, looking deedily around for support.

"Be civil to enemies as well as to friends," counselled Abel Bright- weather, in mild reproof.

Granfer remained unappeased. " Thou poor stunpoll," he piped, addressing Pye, " 'tis the queerest start I ever knowed to be over-topped by a galleycrow like thee"! "

Peace- having been restored with mead and cider, it was agreed to make the journey this year. The question of transport was debated, and it was decided to travel by coach, Granfer Wiregrass to be conveyed in the tranter's cart from his cottage to the starting point. - " 'Twill be a noble adventure, 'a believe," said Diggory Spooncraft, the reddleman, as the company dispersed—"rarer than a club-walking! But I wish 'twere Crownation time, with the horse-soldiers, and the chariots, and the bands a-rozzuming away, and us neighbours cheering our lovely young Queen with a loyal true stave as her Royal Majesty -went rolling along to Westminster Abbey, with the Lord Mayor and Aldermen in their gold chains and their glory, and all the muskets coming slap to the Present ! ' at the word o' command ! "

If so be we're to go, this year be better than sometime, and some- time be better than never," commented Amos Pullet. " Us simple folk would be lost at a Crownation—a rookery of pomp and vanity ! '

"And after the Lord Mayor's coach, and all the great racketing vagary, would come one o' they dust-carts," morosely added Timothy Pye. " Hours it would be, in sober sadness, before we got home-along, clean moidered by harking to Granfer Wiregrass laying down that they Life Guards were naught to the soldiers in the Bang-up Locals, with their &docks and their bagnets and their spatter-dashes and their 'courtrements shining like the seven stars when he were a-mollyhorning about in scarlet ! "