The Henson Journals

[129]

Monday, August 18th, 1919.

The wind during the night was very boisterous; & the lawn was freshly littered with leaves & branches, the débris of a tempest: but the sun shone brightly as the day progressed. "Heaviness may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning". As I dressed I learned the Sonnet

Upon Westminster Bridge.

Earth has not anything to show more fair:

Dull would he be of soul who could pass by

A sight so touching in its majesty:

This City now doth like a garment wear

The beauty of the morning: silent, bare,

Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie

Open unto the fields, and to the sky;

All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

Never did sun more beautifully steep

In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill,

Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!

The river glideth at his own sweet will:

Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;

And all that mighty heart is lying still!

The scene on which my eyes rested when I looked from my window in the intervals of dressing, illustrated the poet's words.

[130]

After consultation with William, I decided that it might be prudent to send the car in to the Argyll Works (Hozier Street, Bridgeton, Glasgow. Telephones. Bridgeton 624 & 177). The seamy side of a motor tour begins to disclose itself. After lunch Edmund Parker accompanied me into Glasgow in the motor. We went by way of West Kilbride, Dalry, Beith, and Paisley. The Argyll Works lie in a woeful slum infested by dirty Irish children, who rush across the road in the face of the motor, and escape destruction by miracles of fleetness & sinuosity. We left the motor for inspection, and returned to Fairlie for dinner. We had lunch with the dowager Lady Glasgow, who lives hard–by, a well set–up old lady of ready speech & decisive demeanour. I was interested to hear from another lady staying at the house, who had lived in Algeria, some account of the "North Africa Mission", which had a familiar sound to me as being the "work" carried on by an oleaginous Plymouth brother, Edward Glenney, resident in Barking a quarter of a century ago when I was Vicar there, & perhaps a keener critic of sectaries than I have since become. Beyond a reputation for ample means, & a rigorous use of the advantages thereof, I could learn nothing about him.

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