The town of Woodstock has a long line of traditions, but shows little evidence of modern progress.  It is a quiet, old-world little place with clean streets and many fine trees.  Tradition asserts that the father of English poetry, Geoffrey Chaucer, was born here and the old house, alleged to be his birthplace, still stands in Park Street.  However, the poet himself declares that London was his native city and the confiding tourist is left with the necessity of balancing the poet’s own assertion on this important point against that of the Woodstock guide books.  In any event, Chaucer certainly lived in Woodstock—­very likely in the house assigned to him today.  The town was also a residence of the Saxon kings, and here are many legends of Henry II and Fair Rosamond.  Perhaps its most distinguished resident, however, was Oliver Cromwell, who put up at an inn, now a private house, while his army battered down the old palace as described by Scott.

We returned from Woodstock to Oxford and from there directed our course to Wantage, the birthplace of King Alfred the Great and, I might incidentally remark, at that time the residence of a well known expatriated New York City politician.  This latter distinction did not occur to us until after we had left the town, and therefore we failed to make inquiries as to how this gentleman was regarded by his fellow-citizens of Oxfordshire.  In this connection, soon afterwards I saw an amusing report in the newspapers stating that a libel suit had been brought against a British magazine for having published an article in which the ex-boss was spoken of in an uncomplimentary manner.  The report stated that the case had been settled, the magazine editor paying the legal costs and retracting what he had said, as well as publishing an apology for the attack.  Here we have an example of the British idea of the sacredness of private character.  This politician while in America was almost daily accused by the newspapers of every crime in the calendar and never thought it worth while to enter a denial.  No sooner is he fairly established in England than he brings suit against a magazine whose charges appear to have been of the mildest character.  One seldom sees in English newspapers the violent attacks on individuals and the severe denunciations of public men so common in American journals.  If the editor forgets himself, as in the case cited, suit for libel is sure to be brought and often proves a serious thing.  While this to some extent may obstruct the freedom of the press, it is nevertheless a relief to miss the disgraceful and unwarranted attacks on public men that continually fill the columns of many American newspapers.