in the court-yard of the only inn of which Selbourne can boast.
“Sir,” said he, “’tis twenty years and more since I first read Gilbert White’s ‘Natural History of Selbourne,’ and ever since that time I have longed to pay a visit to this place. For thirty years I drove the coach between Portsmouth and Guildford, and could never find an opportunity of gratifying my wish; however, the railways have thrust that opportunity upon me, and three years ago I drove over from Alton with a friend for the first time. But, sir, it’s distressing to see in what slovenly hovels the people of the place are hived; I had expected better things.”
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Selbourne Church.
Curiously enough, on going into the inn and turning over an album placed upon the table of the dining-room, for visitors to sign their names or write their opinions of the place in, I alighted upon the following gratuitous illustration of the moral aspects of the place. “If Nature taught men to look to Nature’s God, those who dwell amid lovely scenery should be the most pious. To-day a rustic wedding is held at this house. The bridegroom, a native of charming Selbourne, is already so tipsy he can scarcely stand (one o’clock p.m.); the brother is but a shade better, whilst the whole party are singing below uproariously, and certainly seem to have but little thought of Nature’s God.” Then follows a pithy sermon: “It is Grace, not Nature or external circumstances, which leads the sinner to the Saviour- C. L., October, 1859.”
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Gilbert White’s House at Selbourne.
