H. H. delighted in all things Kentish. "My Cathedral," "My Archbishop," were frequently on his lips, and he thoroughly enjoyed the run down to Canterbury through Kentish hop-gardens and Kentish orchards; and not least he loved the kindly faces of the Kentish folk with their slow, old-fashioned speech. In springtime the woods around Canterbury are a very heaven of green and gold. On Primrose Day a great hamper of yellow primroses was always sent to "Our Member" by two old ladies, Primrose Dames, and the whole house in Eaton Square would be a mass of yellow blooms from Canterbury.
The famous Canterbury Cricket Week was a gathering H. H. never failed to attend. The balls, the theatricals, the luncheons and tea-parties upon the cricket field changed the quiet Cathedral city into the gayest of gay scenes.
H. H., himself a lover of cricket, could never resist the wistful faces of the little urchins who hung around the gate, trying to catch glimpses of their flannelled heroes. Many a time he would send the whole ragged little band rejoicing through the turnpike.
One wonders if any of these were among the bodyguard that dogged H. H.'s every footstep at election time, shouting in husky little voices the popular election song which went to the tune of "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching."
Niver mind a word er wot they si,
For 'Eaton is the man
And 'e does the best 'e can, etc. etc."
A compliment distinctly qualified, one might consider.
H. H. took a great interest in King's School, Canterbury, and was present whenever possible to
