The Arthur Conan Doyle EncyclopediaThe Arthur Conan Doyle EncyclopediaThe Arthur Conan Doyle Encyclopedia
22 May 1859, Edinburgh M.D., Kt, KStJ, D.L., LL.D., Sportsman, Writer, Poet, Politician, Justicer, Spiritualist Crowborough, 7 July 1930


From The Arthur Conan Doyle Encyclopedia

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Romance is the ninth article of the series American Impressions by Miss Conan Doyle written by Mary Conan Doyle, the first daughter of Arthur Conan Doyle, in the Los Angeles Evening Express on 11 june 1920.


Los Angeles Evening Express
(11 june 1920, p. 7)

[Miss Doyle, daughter of the distinguished English novelist, has consented to write a series of articles for the Evening Express during her sojourn in Southern California. The ninth appears herewith.]

The low house with its pink-flushed walls stands on a promontory half hidden in the green shade of cedars and pines. Above and below shines the southern blue of ocean and sky, for the coast rune up in a little creek here, and the sea comes rushing in eight under the front windows, making one almost gasp at the hugeness and nearness of it! This home is like a jewel in a perfect setting, as one wanders from room to room the fragrance, and depth, and beauty of it all seeming to match the Nature outside. There is a rich peace about the place, as if one had found a pure Truth — unsullied by misunderstanding.

Outside, mingling with the sound of the waves one hears the barking of dogs, and from the next room comes the faint scent of a cigar. Within this house live "the Boss and Poppa." They match it, and it matches them, and completes the "just-rightness" of the whole scheme! They serenely live the things poets fret their lives out trying to express — having never found them themselves! Happiness is its own expression, and needs neither verse nor song.

As the evenings got chilly after sundown, there is a great wood-fire blazing in the end room. The fireplace reminds one of the middle ages, with its heavy iron "dogs" and an implement like a harpoon used as a poker. "Poppa" brings in the huge logs front outside, and as the door opens the fresh night air this the room with the lingering scent of pine and sea, and one hears the sonorous roar of surf against the rocks — then the door closes again and there is sudden peace. "The Boss" looks up from her seat near the fire, and her grave eyes light in a quick smile. Next three things glow — "Poppa's" eyes and the tip of his cigar!

It is a blessing to carry away in the mind this memory of something us straight, and sweet, and true.

God's own people, in God's own country — may the best go with them!