For six years now Mr. Roland Callingham, of Beaconsfield, has worked to build this complete model village in the charming rock garden of his Buckinghamshire home, about an hour by road from London. Originally planned simply to decorate this garden, the little town was opened to the public when its wonders brought it unexpected fame.

Here, where hip-high houses border yard-wide streets busy with the traffic of toy automobiles and people less than two fingers broad, every man and boy steps naturally into a Gulliverian role and every little girl plays Alice in a miniature Wonderland.

"What is the use of a book," thought Alice, "without pictures or conversations?" Bekonscot surpasses that young lady's ideal in fiction by providing real models, which can be handled as well as seen, to illustrate its "story" of an English village.

From a swelling knoll at one corner of this Utopia for youngsters of any age the visitor overlooks an ideal, thriving county town spread out below: houses, half-timbered and of brick, with tiled roofs and painted trim; three carefully designed churches; a post office; an up-to-the-minute railway system, with speeding freight and passenger trains, electrically operated signals and switches; Main Street shops with window stock displays; a flood-lighted airport with planes of many types and sizes; luxury hotels; docks, with the latest fashion in mechanized hoisting equipment; sleek ocean liners coming and going in the harbor; and (final touch of realism!) model men and women of appropriate size scattered everywhere in poses suitable to their activities.

Everything is in correct proportion, with no minutest detail neglected-but an inch in Bekonscot is equivalent to a foot outside its gates. Here is modern civilization viewed as if through the wrong end of binoculars!

Bekonscot's principal house of worship-and one of its leading attractions-dominates a little rise behind the town. A cordon of visitors usually surrounds this church, whose elegance matches that of many a "grown-up" structure.

Forty-five such churches, piled one upon the other, would not equal the height of Westminster Abbey, yet the smaller shrine is built of just as carefully cut stone, is also enriched with stained glass, also is flanked by "massive" flying buttresses. Bells even chime out from its belfry, and muffled organ and choir music (from phonograph records) comes in just the right volume from within.

Pleasant homes of timber and stucco line fashionable Hill Crescent near North Bekonscot Station. Spotless white fences enclose smooth green lawns-carefully clipped with a pair of scissors. You almost expect to see the little people run out from their houses, jump into their parked cars, and hurry off to the picnic grounds!

Gay flowers (some of them giant blossoms bigger than a Bekonscotian house window) brighten corners of each garden. Dwarf shrubs selected for variety and shapeliness provide shade and decorative "trees" for the diminutive village.

Up the schoolhouse path loiter boys not much bigger than the snails to which Shakespeare has compared their schoolward proggress. Across the street (cruel temptation to truants!), a red-roofed, red-trimmed stone building houses a brace of the village's most popular meeting places-the cinema and the tea rooms. Outdoor service is provided for tea room guests on a balcony where weary little urbanites find refreshment at neat green tables under pink umbrellas no bigger than a cookie dish.

Scarcely a good flea jump from the cinema, the town authorities maintain a charming park where the citizenry can relax in peaceful surroundings. Here also is a handsome war memorial-almost a foot of carefully carved stone!

The pulse of business beats strongest in High Street, where stores of many kinds line the block extending from Church Street to East Street, which leads down to Bekonscot Station. Products for sale in each shop are…”