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¡¡¡¡My friend toid me that the prince was a symbol of her Englishness£¬ and I could see that I had caused offense. I looked at her. She was an English person£¬ the sort of English person I used to know at home£¬ the sort who was nobody in England but somebody when they came to live among the people like me. There were many people l could have seen England with; that I was seeing it with this particular person£¬ a person who reminded me of the people who showed me England long ago as I sat in church or at my desk£¬ made me feel silent and afraid£¬ for I wondered if£¬ all these years of our friendship£¬ I had had a friend or had been in the thrall of a racial memoy.¡¡¡¡[15] I went to Bath - we£¬ my friend and I£¬ did this£¬ but though we were together£¬ I was no longer with her. The landscape was almost as familiar as my o\^m hand£¬ but I had never been in this place before£¬ so how could that be again? And the streets of Bath were familiar£¬ too£¬ but I had never walked on them before. It was all those years of reading£¬ starting with Roman Britain. Why did I have to know about Roman Britain? It was of no real use to me£¬ a person living on a hot£¬ drought-ridden island£¬ and it is of no use to me now£¬ and yet my head is filled with this nonsense£¬ Roman Britain. In Bath£¬ I drank tea in a room I had read about in a novel written in the eighteenth centuy. In this very same room£¬ young women wearing those dresses that rustled and so on danced and flirted and sometimes disgraced themselves with young men£¬ soldiers£¬ sailors£¬ who were on their way to Bristol or someplace like that£¬ so many places like that where so many adventures£¬ the outcome of which was not good for me£¬ began. Bristol£¬ England. A sentence that began "That night the ship sailed from Bristol£¬ England" would end not so good for me. And then I was driving through the countryside in an English motorcar£¬ on narrow winding roads£¬ and they were so familiar£¬ though I had never been on them before; and through little villages the name of which I somehow knew so well though I had never been there before. And the countryside did have all those hedges and hedges£¬ fields hedged in. I was marveling at all the toil of it£¬ the planting of the hedges to begin with and then the care of it; all that clipping£¬ year after year of clipping£¬ and I wondered at the lives of the people who would have to do this£¬ because whoever I see and feel the hands that hold up the world£¬ I see and feel myself and all the people who look like me. And I said£¬ "Those hedges" and my friend said that someone£¬ a woman named Mrs. Rothchild£¬ worried that he hedges weren't being taken care of properly; the farmers couldn't afford or find the help to keep up the hedges£¬ and often they replaced them .^rith wire fencing. I might have said to that£¬ well if Mrs. Rothchild doesn't like the wire fencing£¬ why doesn 't she take care of the hedges herself £¬ but I didn't. And then in those fields that were now hemmed in by wire fencing that a privileged woman didn't like was planted a vile yellow flowering bush that produced an oil£¬ and my friend said that Mrs. Rothchild didn' t like this either; it ruined the English countrgside£¬ it ruined the traditional look of the English countWside.¡¡¡¡¡­¡­