The Henson Journals

[161]

Wednesday, September 10th, 1919.

A thick autumnal mist led in a gloriously fine day. The morning post brought a letter from Box, the secretary of the local branch of the Workers' Union. He complained of Mr McLaughlin, the Rector of Burford, for refusing to pay his workman wages due until he vacated a cottage. I motored out to Burford ^in^ the afternoon, & learned from the Rector the true state of affairs. The gardener, allured by the offer of 50/– weekly for four weeks in the hop–fields of a local farmer, had given the Rector one week's notice to terminate his work, & one month's notice to quit his cottage. The Rector, entitled by agreement to one month's notice to leave his service, was aggrieved, & withheld the week's payment until the man had left the cottage, which formed part of the gardener's remuneration. Then Mr Box came on the scene, & there was trouble. I told McLaughlin that he should pay the wages at once, without deduction, & insist on the cottage being vacated at the expiry of the month's notice. This he undertook to do, and indeed expressed himself very properly. Having arranged this business, he took us to see the parish church, an interesting building which has been well–restored by Mr Aston Webb. It possesses some very fine monuments of the Cornwall family. A fine effigy of a daughter of John of Gaunt, & a splendid triptych [162] of the year 1588 commemorating members of the Cornwall family. There was also an unusually fine brass on the chancel floor, and an uncommon piscina. The aspect of the chancel & the announcements on the church door led me to believe that the parson belonged to the "Catholick" persuasion. We had tea with his family – wife, a son & a daughter. The boy was at Keble College, and the girl (very sweet–looking maiden) was learning farming. Mr McLaughlin himself is a tall man, well–built, & of a saturnine aspect, possibly a hard man, but not unjust, & a gentleman. We had a delightful run back to Hereford, where we arrived a little before 7 p.m. The calm beauty of the country in the declining sun of a brilliant autumn day was entrancing. On every hand the apple–trees are literally bending & breaking under their load of fruit. The hop–fields look magnificent, and are alive with hop–pickers: but the corn crops are short in the stalk & light in the ear. The roots are fair, the recent rains having greatly improved them. Lilley accompanied me, and as usual was a pleasant and informing companion. His range of knowledge is certainly very uncommon.

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