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ing； this author； investigator； lecturer； or studious gentleman； to whose coat…tails I cling； does he always represent justice and peace； sweetness of manners； purity of life……all the things which makes for true civilization？ Here is a fallacy of bookish thought。 Experience offers proof on every hand that vigorous mental life may be but one side of a personality； of which the other is moral barbarism。 A man may be a fine archaeologist； and yet have no sympathy with human ideals。 The historian； the biographer； even the poet； may be a money…market gambler； a social toady； a clamorous Chauvinist； or an unscrupulous wire…puller。 As for 〃leaders of science；〃 what optimist will dare to proclaim them on the side of the gentle virtues？ And if one must needs think in this way of those who stand forth； professed instructors and inspirers； what of those who merely listen？ The reading…public……oh； the reading…public！ Hardly will a prudent statistician venture to declare that one in every score of those who actually read sterling books do so with prehension of their author。 These dainty series of noble and delightful works； which have so seemingly wide an acceptance； think you they vouch for true appreciation in all who buy them？ Remember those who purchase to follow the fashion； to impose upon their neighbour； or even to flatter themselves； think of those who wish to make cheap presents； and those who are merely pleased by the outer aspect of the volume。 Above all； bear in mind that busy throng whose zeal is according neither to knowledge nor to conviction； the host of the half…educated； characteristic and peril of our time。 They； indeed； purchase and purchase largely。 Heaven forbid that I should not recognize the few among them whose bent of brain and of conscience justifies their fervour； to such……the ten in ten thousand……be all aid and brotherly solace！ But the glib many； the perky mispronouncers of titles and of authors' names； the twanging murderers of rhythm； the maulers of the uncut edge at sixpence extra； the ready…reckoners of bibliopolic discount……am I to see in these a witness of my hope for the century to e？
I am told that their semi…education will be integrated。 We are in a transition stage； between the bad old time when only a few had academic privileges； and that happy future which will see all men liberally instructed。 Unfortunately for this argument； education is a thing of which only the few are capable； teach as you will； only a small percentage will profit by your most zealous energy。 On an ungenerous soil it is vain to look for rich crops。 Your average mortal will be your average mortal still： and if he grow conscious of power； if he bees vocal and self…assertive； if he get into his hands all the material resources of the country； why； you have a state of things such as at present looms menacingly before every Englishman blessed……or cursed……with an unpopular spirit。
XXIII
Every morning when I awake； I thank heaven for silence。 This is my orison。 I remember the London days when sleep was broken by clash and clang； by roar and shriek； and when my first sense on returning to consciousness was hatred of the life about me。 Noises of wood and metal； clattering of wheels； banging of implements； jangling of bells……all such things are bad enough； but worse still is the clamorous human voice。 Nothing on earth is more irritating to me than a bellow or scream of idiot mirth； nothing more hateful than a shout or yell of brutal anger。 Were it possible； I would never again hear the utterance of a human tongue； save from those few who are dear to me。
Here； wake at what hour I may； early or late； I lie amid gracious stillness。 Perchance a horse's hoof rings rhythmically upon the road； perhaps a dog barks from a neighbour farm； it may be that there es the far； soft murmur of a train from the other side of Exe； but these are almost the only sounds that could force themselves upon my ear。 A voice； at any time of the day； is the rarest thing。
But there is the rustle of branches in the morning breeze； there is the music of a sunny shower against the window； there is the matin song of birds。 Several times lately I have lain wakeful when there sounded the first note of the earliest lark； it makes me almost glad of my restless nights。 The only trouble that touches me in these moments is the thought of my long life wasted amid the senseless noises of man's world。 Year after year this spot has known the same tranquillity； with ever so little of good fortune； with ever so little wisdom； beyond what was granted me； I might have blessed my manhood with calm； might have made for myself in later life a long retrospect of bowered peace。 As it is； I enjoy with something of sadness； remembering that this melodious silence is but the prelude of that deeper stillness which waits to enfold us all。
XXIV
Morning after morning； of late； I have taken my walk in the same direction； my purpose being to look at a plantation of young larches。 There is no lovelier colour on earth than that in which they are now clad； it seems to refresh as well as gladden my eyes； and its influence sinks deep into my heart。 Too soon it will change； already I think the first radiant verdure has begun to pass into summer's soberness。 The larch has its moment of unmatched beauty……and well for him whose chance permits him to enjoy it； spring after spring。
Could anything be more wonderful than the fact that here am I； day by day； not only at leisure to walk forth and gaze at the larches； but blessed ind needful for such enjoyment？ On any morning of spring sunshine； how many mortals find themselves so much at peace that they are able to give themselves wholly to delight in the glory of heaven and of earth？ Is it the case with one man in every fifty thousand？ Consider what extraordinary kindness of fate must tend upon one； that not a care； not a preoccupation； should interfere with his contemplative thought for five or six days successively！ So rooted in the human mind （and so reasonably rooted） is the belief in an Envious Power； that I ask myself whether I shall not have to pay； by some disaster； for this period of sacred calm。 For a week or so I have been one of a small number； chosen out of the whole human race by fate's supreme benediction。 It may be that this es to every one in turn； to most； it can only be once in a lifetime； and so briefly。 That my own lot seems so much better than that of ordinary men； sometimes makes me fearful。
XXV
Walking in a favourite lane to…day； I found it covered with shed blossoms of the hawthorn。 Creamy white； fragrant even in ruin； lay scattered the glory of the May。 It told me that spring is over。
Have I enjoyed it as I should？ Since the day that brought me freedom； four times have I seen the year's new birth； and always； as the violet yielded to the rose； I have known a fear that I had not sufficiently prized this boon of heaven whilst it was with me。 Many hours I have spent shut up among my books； when I might have been in the meadows。 Was the gain equivalent？ Doubtfully； diffidently； I hearken what the mind can plead。
I recall my moments of delight； the recognition of each flower that unfolded； the surprise of budding branches clothed in a night with green。 The first snowy gleam upon the blackthorn did not escape me。 By its familiar bank； I watched for the earliest primrose； and in its copse I found the anemone。 Meadows shining with buttercups； hollows sunned with the marsh marigold held me long at gaze。 I saw the sallow glistening with its cones of silvery fur； and splendid with dust of gold。 These mon things touch me with more of admiration and of wonder each time I behold them。 They are once more gone。 As I turn to summer； a misgiving mingles with my joy。
SUMMER
I
To…day； as I was reading in the garden； a waft of summer perfume…… some hidden link of association in what I read……I know not what it may have been……took me back to schoolboy holidays； I recovered with strange intensity that lightsome mood of long release from tasks； of going away to the seaside； which is one of childhood's blessings。 I was in the train； no rushing express； such as bears you great distances； the sober train which goes to no place of importance； which lets you see the white steam of the engine float and fall upon a meadow ere you pass。 Thanks to a good and wise father； we youngsters saw nothing of seaside places where crowds assemble； I am speaking； too； of a time more than forty years ago； when it was still possible to find on the coasts of northern England； east or west； spots known only to those who loved the shore for its beauty and its solitude。 At every station the train stopped； little stations； decked with beds of flowers； smelling warm in the sunshine where country…folk got in with baskets； and talked in an unfamiliar dialect； an English which to us sounded almost like a foreign tongue。 Then the first glimpse of the sea； the excitement of noting whether tide was high or low……stretches of sand and weedy pools； or halcyon wavelets frothing at their furthest reach； under the sea… banks starred with convolvulus。 Of a sudden； OUR station！
Ah； that taste of the brine on a child's lips！ Nowadays； I can take holiday when I will； and go whithersoever it pleases me； but that salt kiss of the sea air I shall never know again。 My senses are dulled； I cannot get so near to Nature； I have a sorry dread of her clouds； her winds； and must walk with tedious circumspection where once I ran and leapt exultingly。 Were it possible； but for one half…hour； to plunge and bask in the sunny surf； to roll on the silvery sand…hills； to leap from rock to rock on shining sea…ferns； laughing if I slipped into the shallows among starfish and anemones！ I am much older in body than in mind； I can but look at what I once enjoyed。
II
I have been spending a week in Somerset。 The right June weather put me in the mind for rambling； and my thoughts turned to the Severn Sea。 I went to Glastonbury and Wells； and on to Cheddar； and so to the shore of the Channel at Clevedon； remembering my holiday of fifteen years ago； and too often losing myself in a contrast of the man I was then and what I am now。 Beautiful beyond all words of description that nook of oldest England； but that I feared the moist and misty winter climate； I should have chosen some spot below the Mendips for my home and resting…place。 Unspeakable the charm to my ear of those old names； exquisite the quiet of those little towns； lost amid tilth and pasture； untouched as yet by the fury of modern life； their ancient sanctuaries guarded； as it were； by noble trees and hedges overrun with flowers。 In all England there is no sweeter and more varied prospect than that from the hill of the Holy Thorn at Glastonbury； in all England there is no lovelier musing place than the leafy walk beside the Palace Moat at Wells。 As I think of the golden hours I spent there； a passion to which I can give no name takes hold upon me； my heart trembles with an indefinable ecstasy。
There was a time of my life when I was consumed with a desire for foreign travel； an impatience of everything familiar fretted me through all the changing year。 If I had not at length found the opportunity to escape； if I had not seen the landscapes for which my soul longed； I think I must have moped to death。 Few men； assuredly； have enjoyed such wanderings more than I； and few men revive them in memory with a richer delight or deeper longing。 But… …whatever temptation es to me in mellow autumn； when I think of the grape and of the olive……I do not believe I shall ever again cross the sea。 What remains to me of life and of energy is far too little for the enjoyment of all I know； and all I wish to know； of this dear island。
As a child I used to sleep in a room hung round with prints after English landscape painters……those steel engravings so mon half a century ago； which bore the legend； 〃From the picture in the Vernon Gallery。〃 Far more than I knew at the time； these pictures impressed me； I gazed and gazed at them； with that fixed attention of a child which is half curiosity； half reverie； till every line of them was fixed in my mind； at this moment I see the black…and…white landscapes as if they were hanging on the wall before me； and I have often thought that this early training