XXV
Yesterday I passed by an elm avenue； leading to a beautiful old house。 The road between the trees was covered in all its length and breadth with fallen leaves……a carpet of pale gold。 Further on； I came to a plantation； mostly of larches； it shone in the richest aureate hue； with here and there a splash of blood…red； which was a young beech in its moment of autumnal glory。
I looked at an alder； laden with brown catkins； its blunt foliage stained with innumerable shades of lovely colour。 Near it was a horse…chestnut； with but a few leaves hanging on its branches； and those a deep orange。 The limes； I see； are already bare。
To…night the wind is loud； and rain dashes against my casement； to… morrow I shall awake to a sky of winter。
WINTER
I
Blasts from the Channel； with raining scud； and spume of mist breaking upon the hills； have kept me indoors all day。 Yet not for a moment have I been dull or idle； and now； by the latter end of a sea…coal fire； I feel such enjoyment of my ease and tranquillity that I must needs word it before going up to bed。
Of course one ought to be able to breast weather such as this of to… day； and to find one's pleasure in the strife with it。 For the man sound in body and serene of mind there is no such thing as bad weather； every sky has its beauty； and storms which whip the blood do but make it pulse more vigorously。 I remember the time when I would have set out with gusto for a tramp along the wind…swept and rain…beaten roads； nowadays； I should perhaps pay for the experiment with my life。 All the more do I prize the shelter of these good walls； the honest workmanship which makes my doors and windows proof against the assailing blast。 In all England； the land of fort； there is no room more fortable than this in which I sit。 fortable in the good old sense of the word； giving solace to the mind no less than ease to the body。 And never does it look more homely； more a refuge and a sanctuary； than on winter nights。
In my first winter here； I tried fires of wood； having had my hearth arranged for the purpose； but that was a mistake。 One cannot burn logs successfully in a small room； either the fire； being kept moderate； needs constant attention； or its triumphant blaze makes the room too hot。 A fire is a delightful thing； a panion and an inspiration。 If my room were kept warm by some wretched modern contrivance of water…pipes or heated air； would it be the same to me as that beautiful core of glowing fuel； which； if I sit and gaze into it； bees a world of wonders？ Let science warm the heaven… forsaken inhabitants of flats and hotels as effectually and economically as it may； if the choice were forced upon me； I had rather sit； like an Italian； wrapped in my mantle； softly stirring with a key the silver…grey surface of the brasier's charcoal。 They tell me we are burning all our coal； and with wicked wastefulness。 I am sorry for it； but I cannot on that account make cheerless perhaps the last winter of my life。 There may be waste on domestic hearths； but the wickedness is elsewhere……too blatant to call for indication。 Use mon sense； by all means； in the construction of grates； that more than half the heat of the kindly coal should be blown up the chimney is desired by no one； but hold by the open fire as you hold by whatever else is best in England。 Because； in the course of nature； it will be some day a thing of the past （like most other things that are worth living for）； is that a reason why it should not be enjoyed as long as possible？ Human beings may ere long take their nourishment in the form of pills； the prevision of that happy economy causes me no reproach when I sit down to a joint of meat。
See how friendly together are the fire and the shaded lamp； both have their part alike in the illumining and warming of the room。 As the fire purrs and softly crackles； so does my lamp at intervals utter a little gurgling sound when the oil flows to the wick； and custom has made this a pleasure to me。 Another sound； blending with both； is the gentle ticking of the clock。 I could not endure one of those bustling little clocks which tick like a fever pulse； and are only fit for a stockbroker's office； mine hums very slowly； as though it savoured the minutes no less than I do； and when it strikes； the little voice is silver…sweet； telling me without sadness that another hour of life is reckoned； another of the priceless hours …
〃Quae nobis pereunt et imputantur。〃
After extinguishing the lamp； and when I have reached the door； I always turn to look back； my room is so cosily alluring in the light of the last gleeds； that I do not easily move away。 The warm glow is reflected on shining wood； on my chair； my writing…table； on the bookcases； and from the gilt title of some stately volume； it illumes this picture； it half disperses the gloom on that。 I could imagine that； as in a fairy tale； the books do but await my departure to begin talking among themselves。 A little tongue of flame shoots up from a dying ember； shadows shift upon the ceiling and the walls。 With a sigh of utter contentment； I go forth； and shut the door softly。
II
I came home this afternoon just at twilight； and； feeling tired after my walk； a little cold too； I first crouched before the fire； then let myself drop lazily upon the hearthrug。 I had a book in my hand； and began to read it by the firelight。 Rising in a few minutes； I found the open page still legible by the pale glimmer of day。 This sudden change of illumination had an odd effect upon me； it was so unexpected； for I had forgotten that dark had not yet fallen。 And I saw in the queer little experience an intellectual symbol。 The book was verse。 Might not the warm rays from the fire exhibit the page as it appears to an imaginative and kindred mind； whilst that cold； dull light from the window showed it as it is beheld by eyes to which poetry has but a poor； literal meaning； or none at all？
III
It is a pleasant thing enough to be able to spend a little money without fear when the desire for some indulgence is strong upon one； but how much pleasanter the ability to give money away！ Greatly as I relish the forts of my wonderful new life； no joy it has brought me equals that of ing in aid to another's necessity。 The man for ever pinched in circumstances can live only for himself。 It is all very well to talk about doing moral good； in practice； there is little scope or hope for anything of that kind in a state of material hardship。 To…day I have sent S… a cheque for fifty pounds； it will e as a very boon of heaven； and assuredly blesseth him that gives as much as him that takes。 A poor fifty pounds； which the wealthy fool throws away upon some idle or base fantasy； and never thinks of it； yet to S… it will mean life and light。 And I； to whom this power of benefaction is such a nebling； so glad and proud I am。 In the days gone by； I have sometimes given money； but with trembling of another kind； it was as likely as not that I myself； some black foggy morning； might have to go begging for my own dire needs。 That is one of the bitter curses of poverty； it leaves no right to be generous。 Of my abundance……abundance to me； though starveling pittance in the view of everyday prosperity……I can give with happiest freedom； I feel myself a man； and no crouching slave with his back ever ready for the lash of circumstance。 There are those； I know； who thank the gods amiss； and most easily does this happen in the matter of wealth。 But oh； how good it is to desire little； and to have a little more than enough！
IV
After two or three days of unseasonable and depressing warmth； with lowering but not rainy sky； I woke this morning to find the land covered with a dense mist。 There was no daybreak； and； till long after the due hour； no light save a pale； sad glimmer at the window； now； at mid…day； I begin dimly to descry gaunt shapes of trees； whilst a haunting drip； drip on the garden soil tells me that the vapour has begun to condense； and will pass in rain。 But for my fire； I should be in indifferent spirits on such a day as this； the flame sings and leaps； and its red beauty is reflected in the window…glass。 I cannot give my thoughts to reading； if I sat unoccupied； they would brood with melancholy fixedness on I know not what。 Better to betake myself to the old mechanic exercise of the pen； which cheats my sense of time wasted。
I think of fogs in London； fogs of murky yellow or of sheer black； such as have often made all work impossible to me； and held me； a sort of dyspeptic owl； in moping and blinking idleness。 On such a day； I remember； I once found myself at an end both of coal and of lamp…oil； with no money to purchase either； all I could do was to go to bed； meaning to lie there till the sky once more became visible。 But a second day found the fog dense as ever。 I rose in darkness； I stood at the window of my garret； and saw that the street was illumined as at night； lamps and shop…fronts perfectly visible； with folk going about their business。 The fog； in fact； had risen； but still hung above the house…tops； impermeable by any heavenly beam。 My solitude being no longer endurable； I went out； and walked the town for hours。 When I returned； it was with a few coins which permitted me to buy war