the street towards the market on slow hoofs waddled the Champion Beast, great-shouldered, broad-sided, deep-flanked; and a hundred more that were nearly his match. No man so poor that he would not taste a steak on Sunday; no family in such straits that they would not see a joint on their table on Christmas Day.
Just as the Lord Mayorâs Show provides its moments of comic relief, so did this splendid progress towards the Christmas market. The calf that planted its legs four-square and flatlyrefused to budge, though one man heaved at its halter and another pulled its tail; the fat goodwife with a couple of cackling geese under her arms; the bull which entered Double Alley and rampaged about there, so that even the Hooks made common cause against it: all these events were matters for mirth and jesting. And later in the day, when the market was over and the farmers with bulging pockets rollicked homeâwhen the drovers rich with Christmas tips began their Christmas pub crawlâwhen the butcher who had bought the Champion Beast paraded him through the town with rosettes upon his horns, a mighty fat butcher with a mighty fat beastâwhat merry greetings passed, what practical joking went on! I shall never forget the butcherâs face wreathed in smiles as he met Mr. Jeffs who had bred and fattened the champion; beaming at each other, they shook hands, and the crowd in the street cheered and shouted. I shall never forget the butcherâs obvious pride that he had paid the highest price for the best animal. Nowadays, it seems to me, too many people take pride in having bought something cheap; but the butcher was proud because he had bought something good, and had paid well for it.
And so dusk fell, and the lamplighter went round with his long pole, the gas lamps glowed yellow, even that wan, cloudy nebulus that burned at the entrance to Double Alley, and the last of the country people went home. Only a few belated drovers still hung about the pubs; and the first carol-singers gathered round our front door to tell their old tale of peace on earth and goodwill among men.
Elmbury Goes to War
But peace on earth had ended when I was seven. Already the Volunteers, re-named Territorials, had marched out of their dark and dusty creeper-clad Drill Hall, and the citizens who had always laughed at them for playing soldiers cheered them all the way to the station. Those farmersâ sons, small tradesmen, keepers, poachers and hobbledehoys thereafter played soldiers in Flandersfor the better part of five years. They were maimed, blinded, and slain; and they added proud battle-honours to the colours of a regiment which already possessed more battle-honours than most. Two of my cousins marched at the head of them; one was killed in 1915, the other lasted until the Somme, when company officers could not expect to last any longer.
But after the soldiers had gone, it was a long time before the war began to have any visible effect upon the life of Elmbury. My mother collected vegetables for the Navy; and I remember the garden looking like a harvest festival, with piles of cabbages, cauliflowers, lettuces, beets and marrows on their way to Scapa Flow; but how they got there, and what state they were in when they arrived, we never knew. A big house nearby was turned into a military hospital, and convoys of ambulances occasionally passed our window. Men in blue uniform, on crutches or in bath-chairs, became a familiar sight in the street. Christmas markets were less festive, perhaps because there was less to drink; and Nobbler Price became more sober. Mr. Hook sought sanctuary from his wife in the Army.
And a stranger thing occurred in Double Alley. There was a barrel of a man, some twenty stone of him, called Dick Perkins, a genial rogue with mischievous and watery blue eyes, a drover turned cattle-dealer, who lived there presumably because it amused him to live thereâfor he was prosperous enough to live elsewhere if he had
Just as the Lord Mayorâs Show provides its moments of comic relief, so did this splendid progress towards the Christmas market. The calf that planted its legs four-square and flatlyrefused to budge, though one man heaved at its halter and another pulled its tail; the fat goodwife with a couple of cackling geese under her arms; the bull which entered Double Alley and rampaged about there, so that even the Hooks made common cause against it: all these events were matters for mirth and jesting. And later in the day, when the market was over and the farmers with bulging pockets rollicked homeâwhen the drovers rich with Christmas tips began their Christmas pub crawlâwhen the butcher who had bought the Champion Beast paraded him through the town with rosettes upon his horns, a mighty fat butcher with a mighty fat beastâwhat merry greetings passed, what practical joking went on! I shall never forget the butcherâs face wreathed in smiles as he met Mr. Jeffs who had bred and fattened the champion; beaming at each other, they shook hands, and the crowd in the street cheered and shouted. I shall never forget the butcherâs obvious pride that he had paid the highest price for the best animal. Nowadays, it seems to me, too many people take pride in having bought something cheap; but the butcher was proud because he had bought something good, and had paid well for it.
And so dusk fell, and the lamplighter went round with his long pole, the gas lamps glowed yellow, even that wan, cloudy nebulus that burned at the entrance to Double Alley, and the last of the country people went home. Only a few belated drovers still hung about the pubs; and the first carol-singers gathered round our front door to tell their old tale of peace on earth and goodwill among men.
Elmbury Goes to War
But peace on earth had ended when I was seven. Already the Volunteers, re-named Territorials, had marched out of their dark and dusty creeper-clad Drill Hall, and the citizens who had always laughed at them for playing soldiers cheered them all the way to the station. Those farmersâ sons, small tradesmen, keepers, poachers and hobbledehoys thereafter played soldiers in Flandersfor the better part of five years. They were maimed, blinded, and slain; and they added proud battle-honours to the colours of a regiment which already possessed more battle-honours than most. Two of my cousins marched at the head of them; one was killed in 1915, the other lasted until the Somme, when company officers could not expect to last any longer.
But after the soldiers had gone, it was a long time before the war began to have any visible effect upon the life of Elmbury. My mother collected vegetables for the Navy; and I remember the garden looking like a harvest festival, with piles of cabbages, cauliflowers, lettuces, beets and marrows on their way to Scapa Flow; but how they got there, and what state they were in when they arrived, we never knew. A big house nearby was turned into a military hospital, and convoys of ambulances occasionally passed our window. Men in blue uniform, on crutches or in bath-chairs, became a familiar sight in the street. Christmas markets were less festive, perhaps because there was less to drink; and Nobbler Price became more sober. Mr. Hook sought sanctuary from his wife in the Army.
And a stranger thing occurred in Double Alley. There was a barrel of a man, some twenty stone of him, called Dick Perkins, a genial rogue with mischievous and watery blue eyes, a drover turned cattle-dealer, who lived there presumably because it amused him to live thereâfor he was prosperous enough to live elsewhere if he had
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