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第2部分（第1页）

our　poem；　your　novel；　who　bargained　with　you　for　it？　If　it　is　honest　journeywork；　yet　lacks　purchasers；　at　most　you　may　call　yourself　a　hapless　tradesman。　If　it　e　from　on　high；　with　what　decency　do　you　fret　and　fume　because　it　is　not　paid　for　in　heavy　cash？　For　the　work　of　mans　mind　there　is　one　test；　and　one　alone；　the　judgment　of　generations　yet　unborn。　If　you　have　written　a　great　book；　the　world　to　e　will　know　of　it。　But　you　dont　care　for　posthumous　glory。　You　want　to　enjoy　fame　in　a　fortable　armchair。　Ah；　that　is　quite　another　thing。　Have　the　courage　of　your　desire。　Admit　yourself　a　merchant；　and　protest　to　gods　and　men　that　the　merchandise　you　offer　is　of　better　quality　than　much　which　sells　for　a　high　price。　You　may　be　right；　and　indeed　it　is　hard　upon　you　that　Fashion　does　not　turn　to　your　stall。

II

The　exquisite　quiet　of　this　room！　I　have　been　sitting　in　utter　idleness；　watching　the　sky；　viewing　the　shape　of　golden　sunlight　upon　the　carpet；　which　changes　as　the　minutes　pass；　letting　my　eye　wander　from　one　framed　print　to　another；　and　along　the　ranks　of　my　beloved　books。　Within　the　house　nothing　stirs。　In　the　garden　I　can　hear　singing　of　birds；　I　can　hear　the　rustle　of　their　wings。　And　thus；　if　it　please　me；　I　may　sit　all　day　long；　and　into　the　profounder　quiet　of　the　night。

My　house　is　perfect。　By　great　good　fortune　I　have　found　a　housekeeper　no　less　to　my　mind；　a　low…voiced；　light…footed　woman　of　discreet　age；　strong　and　deft　enough　to　render　me　all　the　service　I　require；　and　not　afraid　of　solitude。　She　rises　very　early。　By　my　breakfast…time　there　remains　little　to　be　done　under　the　roof　save　dressing　of　meals。　Very　rarely　do　I　hear　even　a　clink　of　crockery；　never　the　closing　of　a　door　or　window。　Oh；　blessed　silence！

There　is　not　the　remotest　possibility　of　any　ones　calling　upon　me；　and　that　I　should　call　upon　any　one　else　is　a　thing　undreamt　of。　I　owe　a　letter　to　a　friend；　perhaps　I　shall　write　it　before　bedtime；　perhaps　I　shall　leave　it　till　to…morrow　morning。　A　letter　of　friendship　should　never　be　written　save　when　the　spirit　prompts。　I　have　not　yet　looked　at　the　newspaper。　Generally　I　leave　it　till　I　e　back　tired　from　my　walk；　it　amuses　me　then　to　see　what　the　noisy　world　is　doing；　what　new　self…torments　men　have　discovered；　what　new　forms　of　vain　toil；　what　new　occasions　of　peril　and　of　strife。　I　grudge　to　give　the　first　freshness　of　the　morning　mind　to　things　so　sad　and　foolish。

My　house　is　perfect。　Just　large　enough　to　allow　the　grace　of　order　in　domestic　circumstance；　just　that　superfluity　of　intramural　space；　to　lack　which　is　to　be　less　than　at　ones　ease。　The　fabric　is　sound；　the　work　in　wood　and　plaster　tells　of　a　more　leisurely　and　a　more　honest　age　than　ours。　The　stairs　do　not　creak　under　my　step；　I　am　waylaid　by　no　unkindly　draught；　I　can　open　or　close　a　window　without　muscle…ache。　As　to　such　trifles　as　the　tint　and　device　of　wall…paper；　I　confess　my　indifference；　be　the　walls　only　unobtrusive；　and　I　am　satisfied。　The　first　thing　in　ones　home　is　fort；　let　beauty　of　detail　be　added　if　one　has　the　means；　the　patience；　the　eye。

To　me；　this　little　book…room　is　beautiful；　and　chiefly　because　it　is　home。　Through　the　greater　part　of　life　I　was　homeless。　Many　places　have　I　inhabited；　some　which　my　soul　loathed；　and　some　which　pleased　me　well；　but　never　till　now　with　that　sense　of　security　which　makes　a　home。　At　any　moment　I　might　have　been　driven　forth　by　evil　hap；　by　nagging　necessity。　For　all　that　time　did　I　say　within　myself：　Some　day；　perchance；　I　shall　have　a　home；　yet　the　〃perchance〃　had　more　and　more　of　emphasis　as　life　went　on；　and　at　the　moment　when　fate　was　secretly　smiling　on　me；　I　had　all　but　abandoned　hope。　I　have　my　home　at　last。　When　I　place　a　new　volume　on　my　shelves；　I　say：　Stand　there　whilst　I　have　eyes　to　see　you；　and　a　joyous　tremor　thrills　me。　This　house　is　mine　on　a　lease　of　a　score　of　years。　So　long　I　certainly　shall　not　live；　but；　if　I　did；　even　so　long　should　I　have　the　wherewithal　to　pay　my　rent　and　buy　my　food。

I　think　with　passion　of　the　unhappy　mortals　for　whom　no　such　sun　will　ever　rise。　I　should　like　to　add　to　the　Litany　a　new　petition：　〃For　all　inhabitants　of　great　towns；　and　especially　for　all　such　as　dwell　in　lodgings；　boarding…houses；　flats；　or　any　other　sordid　substitute　for　Home　which　need　or　foolishness　may　have　contrived。〃

In　vain　I　have　pondered　the　Stoic　virtues。　I　know　that　it　is　folly　to　fret　about　the　spot　of　ones　abode　on　this　little　earth。

All　places　that　the　eye　of　heaven　visits　Are　to　the　wise　man　ports　and　happy　havens。

But　I　have　always　worshipped　wisdom　afar　off。　In　the　sonorous　period　of　the　philosopher；　in　the　golden　measure　of　the　poet；　I　find　it　of　all　things　lovely。　To　its　possession　I　shall　never　attain。　What　will　it　serve　me　to　pretend　a　virtue　of　which　I　am　incapable？　To　me　the　place　and　manner　of　my　abode　is　of　supreme　import；　let　it　be　confessed；　and　there　an　end　of　it。　I　am　no　cosmopolite。　Were　I　to　think　that　I　should　die　away　from　England；　the　thought　would　be　dreadful　to　me。　And　in　England；　this　is　the　dwelling　of　my　choice；　this　is　my　home。

III

I　am　no　botanist；　but　I　have　long　found　pleasure　in　herb…gathering。　I　love　to　e　upon　a　plant　which　is　unknown　to　me；　to　identify　it　with　the　help　of　my　book；　to　greet　it　by　name　when　next　it　shines　beside　my　path。　If　the　plant　be　rare；　its　discovery　gives　me　joy。　Nature；　the　great　Artist；　makes　her　mon　flowers　in　the　mon　view；　no　word　in　human　language　can　express　the　marvel　and　the　loveliness　even　of　what　we　call　the　vulgarest　weed；　but　these　are　fashioned　under　the　gaze　of　every　passer…by。　The　rare　flower　is　shaped　apart；　in　places　secret；　in　the　Artists　subtler　mood；　to　find　it　is　to　enjoy　the　sense　of　admission　to　a　holier　precinct。　Even　in　my　gladness　I　am　awed。

To…day　I　have　walked　far；　and　at　the　end　of　my　walk　I　found　the　little　white…flowered　wood…ruff。　It　grew　in　a　copse　of　young　ash。　When　I　had　looked　long　at　the　flower；　I　delighted　myself　with　the　grace　of　the　slim　trees　about　it……their　shining　smoothness；　their　olive　hue。　Hard　by　stood　a　bush　of　wych　elm；　its　tettered　bark；　overlined　as　if　with　the　character　of　some　unknown　tongue；　made　the　young　ashes　yet　more　beautiful。

It　matters　not　how　long　I　wander。　There　is　no　task　to　bring　me　back；　no　one　will　be　vexed　or　uneasy；　linger　I　ever　so　late。　Spring　is　shining　upon　these　lanes　and　meadows；　I　feel　as　if　I　must　follow　every　winding　track　that　opens　by　my　way。　Spring　has　restored　to　me　something　of　the　long…forgotten　vigour　of　youth；　I　walk　without　weariness；　I　sing　to　myself　like　a　boy；　and　the　song　is　one　I　knew　in　boyhood。

That　reminds　me　of　an　incident。　Near　a　hamlet；　in　a　lonely　spot　by　a　woodside；　I　came　upon　a　little　lad　of　perhaps　ten　years　old；　who；　his　head　hidden　in　his　arms　against　a　tree　trunk；　was　crying　bitterly。　I　asked　him　what　was　the　matter；　and；　after　a　little　trouble……he　was　better　than　a　mere　bumpkin……I　learnt　that；　having　been　sent　with　sixpence　to　pay　a　debt；　he　had　lost　the　money。　The　poor　little　fellow　was　in　a　state　of　mind　which　in　a　grave　man　would　be　called　the　anguish　of　despair；　he　must　have　been　crying　for　a　long　time；　every　muscle　in　his　face　quivered　as　if　under　torture；　his　limbs　shook；　his　eyes；　his　voice；　uttered　such　misery　as　only　the　vilest　criminal　should　be　made　to　suffer。　And　it　was　because　he　had　lost　sixpence！

I　could　have　shed　tears　with　him……tears　of　pity　and　of　rage　at　all　this　spectacle　implied。　On　a　day　of　indescribable　glory；　when　earth　and　heaven　shed　benedictions　upon　the　soul　of　man；　a　child；　whose　nature　would　have　bidden　him　rejoice　as　only　childhood　may；　wept　his　heart　out　because　his　hand　had　dropped　a　sixpenny　piece！　The　loss　was　a　very　serious　one；　and　he　knew　it；　he　was　less　afraid　to　face　his　parents；　than　overe　by　misery　at　the　thought　of　the　harm　he　had　done　them。　Sixpence　dropped　by　the　wayside；　and　a　whole　family　made　wretched！　What　are　the　due　descriptive　terms　for　a　state　of　〃civilization〃　in　which　such　a　thing　as　this　is　possible？

I　put　my　hand　into　my　pocket；　and　wrought　sixpennyworth　of　miracle。

It　took　me　half　an　hour　to　recover　my　quiet　mind。　After　all；　it　is　as　idle　to　rage　against　mans　fatuity　as　to　hope　that　he　will　ever　be　less　a　fool。　For　me；　the　great　thing　was　my　sixpenny　miracle。　Why；　I　have　known　the　day　when　it　would　have　been　beyond　my　power　altogether；　or　else　would　have　cost　me　a　meal。　Wherefore；　let　me　again　be　glad　and　thankful。

IV

There　was　a　time　in　my　life　when；　if　I　had　suddenly　been　set　in　the　position　I　now　enjoy；　conscience　would　have　lain　in　ambush　for　me。　What！　An　ine　sufficient　to　support　three　or　four　working…class　families……a　house　all　to　myself……things　beautiful　wherever　I　turn……　and　absolutely　nothing　to　do　for　it　all！　I　should　have　been　hard　put　to　it　to　defend　myself。　In　those　days　I　was　feelingly　reminded；　hour　by　hour；　with　what　a　struggle　the　obscure　multitudes　manage　to　keep　alive。　Nobody　kno　parvo　liceat　producere　vitam。　I　have　hungered　in　the　streets；　I　have　laid　my　head　in　the　poorest　shelter；　I　know　what　it　is　to　feel　the　heart　burn　with　wrath　and　envy　of　〃the　privileged　classes。〃　Yes；　but　all　that　time　I　was　one　of　〃the　privileged〃　myself；　and　now　I　can　accept　a　recognized　standing　among　them　without　shadow　of　self…reproach。

It　does　not　mean　that　my　larger　sympathies　are　blunted。　By　going　to　certain　places；　looking　upon　certain　scenes；　I　could　most　effectually　destroy　all　the　calm　that　life　has　brought　me。　If　I　hold　apart　and　purposely　refuse　to　look　that　way；　it　is　because　I　believe　that　the　world　is　better；　not　worse；　for　having　one　more　inhabitant　who　lives　as　bees　a　civilized　being。　Let　him　whose　soul　prompts　him　to　assail　the　iniquity　of　things；　cry　and　spare　not；　let　him　who　has　the　vocation　go　forth　and　bat。　In　me　it　would　be　to　err　from　Natures　guidance。　I　know；　if　I　know　anything；　that　I　am　made　for　the　life　of　tranquillity　and　meditation。　I　know　that　only　thus　can　such　virtue　as　I　possess　find　scope。　More　than　half　a　century　of　existence　has　taught　me　that　most　of　the　wrong　and　folly　which　darken　earth　is　due　to　those　who　cannot　possess　their　souls　in　quiet；　that　most　of　the　good　which　saves　mankind　from　destruction　es　of　life　that　is　led　in　thoughtful　stillness。　Every　day　the　world　grows　noisier；　I；　for　one；　will　have　no　part　in　that　increasing　clamour；　and；　were　it　only　by　my　silence；　I　confer　a　boon　on　all。

How　well　would　the　revenues　of　a　country　be　expended；　if；　by　mere　pensioning；　one…fifth　of　its　population　could　be　induced　to　live　as　I　do！

V

〃Sir；〃　said　Johnson；　〃all　the　arguments　which　are　brought　to　represent　poverty　as　no　evil；　show　it　to　be　evidently　a　great　evil。　You　never　find　people　labouring　to　convince　you　that　you　may　live　very　happily　upon　a　plentiful　fortune。〃

He　knew　what　he　was　talking　of；　that　rugged　old　master　of　mon　sense。　Poverty　is　of　course　a　relative　thing；　the　term　has　reference；　above　all；　to　ones　standing　as　an　intellectual　being。　If　I　am　to　believe　the　newspapers；　there　are　title…bearing　men　and　women　in　England　who；　had　they　an　assured　ine　of　five…and…twenty；　shillings　per　week；　would　have　no　right　to　call　themselves　poor；　for　their　intellectual　needs　are　those　of　a　stable…boy　or　scullery　wench。　Give　me　the　same　ine　and　I　can　live；　but　I　am　poor　indeed。

You　tell　me　that　money