May 31.
Disinterested but candid eri in Europe, Asia or America may shake their heads sadly over the British Empire. Mr. Philip Snowden may exult in the Prospect of tightening the chains round the uncomplaining tax-Payer. Home-grown pessimists may affect to believe that the country is going to the dogs. Yet England in June is likely te be supremely unconcerned. June, whether those irrelevant thunder storms intrude or withhold their malice for a later season, is the most English of all the months. Of England in June exiles mostly think when the nostalgia generated in some distant part of the Empire or i some foreign land becomes most painfully oppressive. Even telegrams from England, with their prosaic recitals of the preoccupations of Westminster and the City of London, cannot entirely exorcise the gentler spirit which holds sway. Already they have hinted that on the Epsom Downs next Wednesday masses of English people will endure enormous discomfort to honour the greatest race in the world and thousands more will be with them as closely as modern telegraphy will permit. For the last few weeks on the gravel square which has the Admiralty on the right, the Foreign Office (with Downing Street) on the. left, the ever mysterious Horse Guards behind and St. James Park in front, the Household troops have been practising their evolutions for the ceremony of Trooping the Colour on the King's Birthday. Schools have recovered from the uncertainties of the beginning of the Summer Term and have plunged into the full routine of cricket, netball with no less attention to the form-room.
Universities are more barefacedly listening to the call of the open air, for examinations are almost affairs of the past and results need not interfere with plans for immediate acceptance of all the joys which June can give.
Not that the countryside receives its full tribute until July has passed, for June covers even London with a sort of rural glamour and, where the King and Queen lead, the rest follow gladly. Those " hardworker martyrs, who sin on behalf of the nation under the shade of Big Ben, cannot be released from their nightly seances and have therefore to make the best of it as they usually seem able to do, in spite of the newspaper placards with the grim device "all-night sitting in the House." So the theatres make hay, the mysteries of Lords and the Oval are sure of the allegiance of devotees who slip away from benches in the Commons, carpets in Whitehall and office stools in the City to applaud and criticize, and in all the odd corners tourists, countryfolk and, pos sibly, stray Londoners are to be found admiring England in June, with the sun without This does not exhaust the panorama. For along the low-edged coastline the advance guards of the holiday-makers are taking their annual respite from work in the towns and are busily engaged in acquiring the sunburn which they will proudly flaunt in their offices shops a few week: Inland by the rivers courts or pitches set in sylvan splendour, young England is joying the full ecstasy of the chief summer month. The pace may become hotter in August London officially termed when the schools are closed and is "empty," but the charm of June lies in the opportunities it gives. for performing that almost. impossible feat of combining business with pleasure, Debutantes, who have trio umphantly emerged from the Courts, may think that the month' is made for them. Noone grudges them that harmless ism. Indeed the spirit of an English June is essentially tolerant of everyone's frailties. The owner of the Derby winner, the centre court victor at Wim-bredon, the wearer of the most admired creation in the Royal Enclosure at Ascot, may each claim the month for his or her exclusive glory. There will be no demur, but, somewhere in Slocum-on-the-Marsh, the champion in the local flower show will be equally uplifted. As for London, that imperturbable philosopher in the rear of the scurrying "General" will salute the month with an extra flourish to his unfailing courtesy, di pensed to curmudgeon and good-tempered alike. Perhaps in him the real warmth of June is to be found, for to him none are strangers, The fare who got on at Marble Arch may have just, come from the Welsh Harp or: from the Whangpoo. Just the: same paternal care will be his. for the asking. Just the same feast of epigram will be set before him before he reaches the end of his stage. That is Enzland in June—a friendly coun-
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.