'It is only this, that we are thinking of going home..."
'Home, you say? What do you mean? What home are you speaking of?'
'Why, Home with a capital 'H', of course. England - Europe, that is to say. What other home is there?' -Tasma (1895)
You're off away to London now,
Where no one dare ignore you,
With Southern laurels on you brow,
And all the world before you. - Henry Lawson (ca. 1900)
Practically all the books I read carried me to the Old world, and most often to England, which for me was rapidly becoming a synonym for romance, charm, interest, culture and all the good things of which one dreams. Everything desirable, and not noticeable or recognised as being in my daily life, I grew gradually to think of as being part and parcel of English life. I did not as yet long to go to England. One does not long visit the moon. But when some well-wrought piece of atmosphere, some happy turn of speech, some inspiring glimpse of high and noble motives or tender devotion, caught and held me, in a book, I would sigh quietly and to myself: 'Ah, yes; in England!' -Alec Dawson (1914)