o real progress, but only more unrest.
England--too solid to go fast, had made ungainly efforts; but she had
moved towards ungraciousness where she had moved at all; I found her
a cross between a museum and an American mushroom town that
advertises all the modern comforts with a violent insistence that is
meant to cloak their very absence.

This, my first impression, toned down, of course, a little later; but
it was my first impression. The people, however, even in the
countryside, seemed proud both of mushroom and museum, and commercial
ugliness, greedy and unashamed, now distorted every old-world
village. The natives were pleased to the point of vanity.

For myself, I could not manage this atrocious compromise, and looking
for the dear old England of our boyhood days, I found it not. The
change, of course, was not in the country only, but in myself. The
soul in me, awakened to a new standard, had turned round to face
another way.

The Manor House was very still when I arrived from London--& late May
evening between the sunset and the dark. Mother, as you know, met me
at the station, for they had stopped the down-train by special
orders, so that I stepped out upon the deserted platform of the
countryside quite alone, a distinguished man, with my rug and
umbrella. A strange footman touched his hat, an old, stooping porter
stared hard at me, then smiled vaguely, while the guard, eyeing
respectfully the individual for whom his train had halted, waved his
red flag, and swung himself into the disappearing van with the
approved manner we once thought marvellous. I left the empty
platform, gave up my ticket to an untidy boy, and crossed the gloomy
booking-hall. The mournfulness of the whole place was depressing. I
heard a blackbird whistle in a bush against the signal-box. It seemed
to scream.

Mother I first saw, seated in the big barouche. She was leaning back,
but sat forwards as I came. She looked into my face across the wide
interval of years now ended, and my heart gave a great boyish leap,
then sank into stillness again abruptly. She seemed to me exactly
the same as usual--only so much smaller. We embraced with a kind of
dignity:

"So here you are, my boy, at last," I heard her say in a quiet voice,
and as though she had seen me a month or two ago, "and very, very
tired, I'll be bound."

I took my seat beside her. I felt awkward, stiff, self-conscious;
there was disappointment somewhere.

"Oh, I'm all right