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Updated: June 5, 2025
Arrived at his destination, Yeovil stood on the steps of his house and pressed the bell with an odd sense of forlornness, as though he were a stranger drifting from nowhere into a land that had no cognisance of him; a moment later he was standing in his own hall, the object of respectful solicitude and attention.
Montacute, still farther south and on the road from South Petherton to Yeovil, should be visited if possible. Here is a beautiful Elizabethan house, the seat of the Phelipses. Its east front is decorated with an imposing row of heroic statues; its west front is almost as magnificent. Taken altogether it is perhaps the grandest Tudor house in the county.
"Oh, that will soon right itself," said the other with loud assertiveness, "that will right itself damn soon." "Nothing in politics rights itself," said Yeovil; "things have to be righted, which is a different matter." "What d'y'mean?" said the fisherman, who did not like to have his assertions taken up and shaken into shape.
S.S.W. from Yeovil. The church and hall are prettily grouped together on rising ground above the roadway. The church is chiefly Perp. with debased transepts and a N.E. tower of the same character but greater dignity. In the churchyard is the effigy of a woman, and another old tomb with incised figure stands near the church door. The Court hard by is a modernised 15th-cent. hall.
Its diminutive church has been much restored and has little of interest, except some ancient glass that has been left in the windows. A glorious walk could be taken eastwards by lonely little Batcombe with its marvellous legends of "Conjuring Minterne," whose grave is in the churchyard. The short five miles of road from Yeovil to Sherborne passes over the curiously named Babylon Hill.
Of more interest is the fine tithe-barn close by, and a beautiful old medieval house with delightful porch and elaborate chimney. Three miles north-east of Yeovil is the interesting church and manor house at Trent. In the latter the fugitive Charles II was hidden, and his hiding-place can still be seen.
"Are you English?" he asked, after a preliminary stare at Yeovil. This time Yeovil did not trouble to disguise his nationality; he nodded curtly to his questioner. "Glad of that," said the fisherman; "I don't like travelling with Germans." "Unfortunately," said Yeovil, "we have to travel with them, as partners in the same State concern, and not by any means the predominant partner either."
"A racial unit in a foreign Empire," commented Yeovil. "We may arrive at the position of being the dominant factor in that Empire," said Cicely, "impressing our national characteristics on it, and perhaps dictating its dynastic future and the whole trend of its policy. Such things have happened in history.
He turned to help the porter to shepherd his belongings on to the truck, and followed him to the outer yard of the station, where a string of taxi- cabs was being slowly absorbed by an outpouring crowd of travellers. Portmanteaux, wraps, and a trunk or two, much be-labelled and travel-worn, were stowed into a taxi, and Yeovil turned to give the direction to the driver.
Only the pigeons, disregarding the changes of political geography, walked about as usual, wondering perhaps, if they ever wondered at anything, at the sudden change in the distribution of park humans. Yeovil turned his steps out of the hot sunlight into the shade of the Burlington Arcade, familiarly known to many of its newer frequenters as the Passage.
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