nd it； why shouldn't I？〃 And in a measure I succeeded。 In a measure only； there was always a limit at which my powers failed me； strive as I would。
In my garret…days it was seldom that I rose early： with the exception of one year……or the greater part of a twelvemonth……during which I was regularly up at half…past five for a special reason。 I had undertaken to 〃coach〃 a man for the London matriculation； he was in business； and the only time he could conveniently give to his studies was before breakfast。 I； just then； had my lodgings near Hampstead Road； my pupil lived at Knightsbridge； I engaged to be with him every morning at half…past six； and the walk； at a brisk pace； took me just about an hour。 At that time I saw no severity in the arrangement； and I was delighted to earn the modest fee which enabled me to write all day long without fear of hunger； but one inconvenience attached to it。 I had no watch； and my only means of knowing the time was to hear the striking of a clock in the neighbourhood。 As a rule； I awoke just when I should have done； the clock struck five； and up I sprang。 But occasionally……and this when the mornings had grown dark……my punctual habit failed me； I would hear the clock chime some fraction of the hour； and could not know whether I had awoke too soon or slept too long。 The horror of unpunctuality； which has always been a craze with me； made it impossible to lie waiting； more than once I dressed and went out into the street to discover as best I could what time it was； and one such expedition； I well remember； took place between two and three o'clock on a morning of foggy rain。
It happened now and then that； on reaching the house at Knightsbridge； I was informed that Mr。……felt too tired to rise。 This concerned me little； for it meant no deduction of fee； I had the two hours' walk； and was all the better for it。 Then the appetite with which I sat down to breakfast； whether I had done my coaching or not！ Bread and butter and coffee……such coffee！……made the meal； and I ate like a navvy。 I was in magnificent spirits。 All the way home I had been thinking of my day's work； and the morning brain； clarified and whipped to vigour by that brisk exercise； by that wholesome hunger； wrought its best。 The last mouthful swallowed； I was seated at my writing…table； aye； and there I sat for seven or eight hours； with a short munching interval； working as only few men worked in all London； with pleasure； zeal； hope。 。 。 。
Yes； yes； those were the good days。 They did not last long； before and after them were cares； miseries； endurance multiform。 I have always felt grateful to Mr。……of Knightsbridge； he gave me a year of health； and almost of peace。
XII
A whole day's walk yesterday with no plan； just a long ramble of hour after hour； entirely enjoyable。 It ended at Topsham； where I sat on the little churchyard terrace； and watched the evening tide e up the broad estuary。 I have a great liking for Topsham； and that churchyard； overlooking ore than river； is one of the most restful spots I know。 Of course the association with old Chaucer； who speaks of Topsham sailors； helps my mood。 I came home very tired； but I am not yet decrepit； and for that I must be thankful。
The unspeakable blessedness of having a HOME！ Much as my imagination has dwelt upon it for thirty years； I never knew how deep and exquisite a joy could lie in the assurance that one is AT HOME for ever。 Again and again I e back upon this thought； nothing but Death can oust me from my abiding place。 And Death I would fain learn to regard as a friend； who will but intensify the peace I now relish。
When one is at home； how one's affections grow about everything in the neighbourhood！ I always thought with fondness of this corner of Devon； but what was that pared with the love which now strengthens in me day by day！ Beginning with my house； every stick and stone of it is dear to me as my heart's blood； I find myself laying an affectionate hand on the door…post； giving a pat； as I go by； to the garden gate。 Every tree and shrub in the garden is my beloved friend； I touch them； when need is； very tenderly； as though carelessness might pain； or roughness injure them。 If I pull up a weed in the walk； I look at it with a certain sadness before throwing it away； it belongs to my home。
And all the country round about。 These villages； how delightful are their names to my ear！ I find myself reading with interest all the local news in the Exeter paper。 Not that I care about the people； with barely one or two exceptions； the people are nothing to me； and the less I see of them the better I am pleased。 But the PLACES grow ever more dear to me。 I like to know of anything that has happened at Heavitree； or Brampford Speke； or Newton St。 Cyres。 I begin to pride myself on knowing every road and lane； every bridle path and foot…way for miles about。 I like to learn the names of farms and of fields。 And all this because here is my abiding place； because I am home for ever。
It seems to me that the very clouds that pass above my house are more interesting and beautiful than clouds elsewhere。
And to think that at one time I called myself a socialist； munist； anything you like of the revolutionary kind！ Not for long； to be sure； and I suspect that there was always something in me that scoffed when my lips uttered such things。 Why； no man living has a more profound sense of property than I； no man ever lived； who was； in every fibre； more vehemently an individualist。
XIII
In this high summertide； I remember with a strange feeling that there are people who； of their free choice； spend day and night in cities； who throng to the gabble of drawing…rooms； make festival in public eating…houses； sweat in the glare of the theatre。 They call it life； they call it enjoyment。 Why； so it is； for them； they are so made。 The folly is mine； to wonder that they fulfil their destiny。
But with what deep and quiet thanksgiving do I remind myself that never shall I mingle with that well…millinered and tailored herd！ Happily； I never saw much of them。 Certain occasions I recall when a supposed necessity took me into their dismal precincts； a sick buzzing in the brain； a languor as of exhausted limbs； es upon me with the memory。 The relief with which I stepped out into the street again； when all was over！ Dear to me then was poverty； which for the moment seemed to make me a free man。 Dear to me was the labour at my desk； which； by parison； enabled me to respect myself。
Never again shall I shake hands with man or woman who is not in truth my friend。 Never again shall I go to see acquaintances with y brothers？ Nay； thank Heaven； that they are not！ I will do harm； if I can help it； to no one； I will wish good to all； but I will make no pretence of personal kindliness where； in the nature of things； it cannot be felt。 I have grimaced a smile and pattered unmeaning words to many a person whom I despised or from whom in heart I shrank； I did so because I had not courage to do otherwise。 For a man conscious of such weakness； the best is to live apart from the world。 Brave Samuel Johnson！ One such truth…teller is worth all the moralists and preachers who ever laboured to humanise mankind。 Had HE withdrawn into