sheep track on the limitless downs or the thwart-leading footpath
through copse and spinney, not without pleasant fellowship with
feather and fir. Nor does it follow from all this that the god is
unsocial. Albeit shy of the company of his more showy brother-deities,
he loveth the more unpretentious humankind, especially them that are
adscripti glebæ, addicted to the kindly soil and to the working
thereof: perfect in no way, only simple, cheery sinners. For he is
only half a god after all, and the red earth in him is strong. When
the pelting storm drives the wayfarers to the sheltering inn, among
the little group on bench and settle Pan has been known to appear at
times, in homely guise of hedger-and-ditcher or weather-beaten
shepherd from the downs. Strange lore and quaint fancy he will then
impart, in the musical Wessex or Mercian he has learned to speak so
naturally; though it may not be till many a mile away that you begin
to suspect that you have unwittingly talked with him who chased the
flying Syrinx in Arcady and turned the tide of fight at Marathon.

Yes: to-day the iron horse has searched the country through -- east
and west, north and south -- bringing with it Commercialism, whose god
is Jerry, and who studs the hills with stucco and garrotes the streams
with the girder. Bringing, too, into every nook and corner fashion and
chatter, the tailor-made gown and the eyeglass. Happily a great part
is still spared -- how great these others fortunately do not know --
in which the rural Pan and his following may hide their heads for yet
a little longer, until the growing tyranny has invaded the last
common, spinney, and sheep-down, and driven the kindly god, the
well-wisher to man -- whither?

Marginalia