[Pg 41]
Wells-next-the-Sea, on the north coast of Norfolk, sounds attractive,
and looks attractive on the map; but that is about all that can be said
in its favour, for a more depressing place would be difficult to find.
Even Holkham, with all its art treasures, leaves a pervading
impression of chill and gloom. The architects of the middle of the
eighteenth century had no partiality for nooks and corners in the
mansions they designed. Vastness and discomfort seems to have
been their principal aim. Well might the noble earl for whom it was
built have observed, "It is a melancholy thing to stand alone in one's
own country." The advent of the motor car must indeed be welcome,
to bring the place in touch with life.
We were attracted to the village of Stiffkey, to the east of Wells,
mainly by a magazine article fresh in our memory, of some of its
peculiarities, conspicuous among which was its weird red-headed
inhabitants. The race of people, however, must have died out, for
what few villagers we encountered were very ordinary ones: far from
ill-favoured. Possibly they still invoke the aid of the local "wise woman," as they do in many other parts of Norfolk, so therein they are no further behind the times than their neighbours.
We heard of an instance farther south, for example, where the head
of an establishment, as was his wont, having disposed of his crop of
potatoes, disappeared for a week with the proceeds; and return
[Pg 42]
ing at length in a very merry condition, his good wife, in the hopes of
frightening him, unknown to him removed his watch from his pocket.
Next morning in sober earnest he went with his sole remaining
sixpence to consult the wise woman of the village, who promptly told
him the thief was in his own house. Consequently the watch was
produced, and the lady who had purloined it, instead of teaching a
lesson, was soundly belaboured with a broom-handle!