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[Page 22]
The houses were wretched examples of architecture. Some jutted into the street further than others, and some were actually inclined and in a perilous predicament. They had low windows of small panes of bubbly glass, and nearly all had fresh pot-plants, and white lace curtains. The village girls darted out of sight like rabbits when they saw us, but we noticed that when returning along the same road, the windows each held a row of inquisitive female faces from baby upwards. No wonder "Fritz" wont face us, why, our own countrymen find something to be afraid of in us. I think we must have had our slouch hats at a rakish angle that day. P'raps we were a little inquisitive too! Who knows.
By some tactical approaches and strategical moves we managed to approach a hoard of small kiddies which surrounded a small girl of 12 years of age, wheeling a pram. We smiled our best, gave a small cheerful little kid a penny & asked the small nursemaid her name. "Ay, mine name be Elsie Henson" she said, and we nearly cried laughing at the tone and accent. One little boys name was Harry, and a shy kiddy about Billy's age, who hid his face in his big sisters dress, was Will. But a coy little kid about 6, with the genuine "flaxen curls" said "And my name is be Alice Henson, and she aint no boss of oi." Well, Clayton screamed, and the kid in the pram yelled, & the small shy boy's lips quivered, and two small girls cleared, so, having thoroughly scared the Henson family, 8 in all, we sneaked away. But goodness, how funny it was. The father of this small tribe is at the front. Good old England.
We went through old Bere Regis church, which is pretty well the oldest edifice of worship I've seen. It goes back to the reign of John I believe. It was very interesting, and some of the plates were real family trees, traceable through generations. On the way home we saw the women in the fields, digging, gleaning & ploughing. Dorset has given well to the army.
In the window facing the road, of each house from which a man