博炮作文网

第30部分（第1页）

a　dream　of　summer　England。　。　。　。

This　is　the　valley　of　the　Blythe。　The　stream　ripples　and　glances　over　its　brown　bed　warmed　with　sunbeams；　by　its　bank　the　green　flags　wave　and　rustle；　and；　all　about；　the　meadows　shine　in　pure　gold　of　buttercups。　The　hawthorn　hedges　are　a　mass　of　gleaming　blossom；　which　scents　the　breeze。　There　above　rises　the　heath；　yellow…　mantled　with　gorse；　and　beyond；　if　I　walk　for　an　hour　or　two；　I　shall　e　out　upon　the　sandy　cliffs　of　Suffolk；　and　look　over　the　northern　sea。　。　。　。

I　am　in　Wensleydale；　climbing　from　the　rocky　river　that　leaps　amid　broad　pastures　up　to　the　rolling　moor。　Up　and　up；　till　my　feet　brush　through　heather；　and　the　grouse　whirrs　away　before　me。　Under　a　glowing　sky　of　summer；　this　air　of　the　uplands　has　still　a　life　which　spurs　to　movement；　which　makes　the　heart　bound。　The　dale　is　hidden；　I　see　only　the　brown　and　purple　wilderness；　cutting　against　the　blue　with　great　round　shoulders；　and；　far　away　to　the　west；　an　horizon　of　sombre　heights。　。　。　。

I　ramble　through　a　village　in　Gloucestershire；　a　village　which　seems　forsaken　in　this　drowsy　warmth　of　the　afternoon。　The　houses　of　grey　stone　are　old　and　beautiful；　telling　of　a　time　when　Englishmen　knew　how　to　build　whether　for　rich　or　poor；　the　gardens　glow　with　flowers；　and　the　air　is　delicately　sweet。　At　the　village　end；　I　e　into　a　lane；　which　winds　upwards　between　grassy　slopes；　to　turf　and　bracken　and　woods　of　noble　beech。　Here　I　am　upon　a　spur　of　the　Cotswolds；　and　before　me　spreads　the　wide　vale　of　Evesham；　with　its　ripening　crops；　its　fruiting　orchards；　watered　by　sacred　Avon。　Beyond；　softly　blue；　the　hills　of　Malvern。　On　the　branch　hard　by　warbles　a　little　bird；　glad　in　his　leafy　solitude。　A　rabbit　jumps　through　the　fern。　There　sounds　the　laugh　of　a　woodpecker　from　the　copse　in　yonder　hollow。　。　。　。

In　the　falling　of　a　summer　night；　I　walk　by　Ullswater。　The　sky　is　still　warm　with　the　afterglow　of　sunset；　a　dusky　crimson　smouldering　above　the　dark　mountain　line。　Below　me　spreads　a　long　reach　of　the　lake；　steel…grey　between　its　dim　colourless　shores。　In　the　profound　stillness；　the　trotting　of　a　horse　beyond　the　water　sounds　strangely　near；　it　serves　only　to　make　more　sensible　the　repose　of　Nature　in　this　her　sanctuary。　I　feel　a　solitude　unutterable；　yet　nothing　akin　to　desolation；　the　heart　of　the　land　I　love　seems　to　beat　in　the　silent　night　gathering　around　me；　amid　things　eternal；　I　touch　the　familiar　and　the　kindly　earth。　Moving；　I　step　softly；　as　though　my　footfall　were　an　irreverence。　A　turn　in　the　road；　and　there　is　wafted　to　me　a　faint　perfume；　that　of　meadow…sweet。　Then　I　see　a　light　glimmering　in　the　farmhouse　window……a　little　ray　against　the　blackness　of　the　great　hillside；　below　which　the　water　sleeps。　。　。　。

A　pathway　leads　me　by　the　winding　of　the　river　Ouse。　Far　on　every　side　stretches　a　homely　landscape；　tilth　and　pasture；　hedgerow　and　clustered　trees；　to　where　the　sky　rests　upon　the　gentle　hills。　Slow；　silent；　the　river　lapses　between　its　daisied　banks；　its　grey…　green　osier　beds。　Yonder　is　the　little　town　of　St。　Neots。　In　all　England　no　simpler　bit　of　rural　scenery；　in　all　the　world　nothing　of　its　kind　more　beautiful。　Cattle　are　lowing　amid　the　rich　meadows。　Here　one　may　loiter　and　dream　in　utter　restfulness；　whilst　the　great　white　clouds　mirror　themselves　in　the　water　as　they　pass　above。　。　。　。

I　am　walking　upon　the　South　Downs。　In　the　valleys；　the　sun　lies　hot；　but　here　sings　a　breeze　which　freshens　the　forehead　and　fills　the　heart　with　gladness。　My　foot　upon　the　short；　soft　turf　has　an　unwearied　lightness；　I　feel　capable　of　walking　on　and　on；　even　to　that　farthest　horizon　where　the　white　cloud　casts　its　floating　shadow。　Below　me；　but　far　off；　is　the　summer　sea；　still；　silent；　its　ever…changing　blue　and　green　dimmed　at　the　long　limit　with　luminous　noontide　mist。　Inland　spreads　the　undulant　vastness　of　the　sheep…spotted　downs；　beyond　them　the　tillage　and　the　woods　of　Sussex　weald；　coloured　like　to　the　pure　sky　above　them；　but　in　deeper　tint。　Near　by；　all　but　hidden　among　trees　in　yon　lovely　hollow；　lies　an　old；　old　hamlet；　its　brown　roofs　decked　with　golden　lichen；　I　see　the　low　church…tower；　and　the　little　graveyard　about　it。　Meanwhile；　high　in　the　heaven；　a　lark　is　singing。　It　descends；　it　drops　to　its　nest；　and　I　could　dream　that　half　the　happiness　of　its　exultant　song　was　love　of　England。　。　。　。

It　is　all　but　dark。　For　a　quarter　of　an　hour　I　must　have　been　writing　by　a　glow　of　firelight　reflected　on　to　my　desk；　it　seemed　to　me　the　sun　of　summer。　Snow　is　still　falling。　I　see　its　ghostly　glimmer　against　the　vanishing　sky。　To…morrow　it　will　be　thick　upon　my　garden；　and　perchance　for　several　days。　But　when　it　melts；　when　it　melts；　it　will　leave　the　snowdrop。　The　crocus；　too；　is　waiting；　down　there　under　the　white　mantle　which　warms　the　earth。

XXIV

Time　is　money……says　the　vulgarest　saw　known　to　any　age　or　people。　Turn　it　round　about；　and　you　get　a　precious　truth……money　is　time。　I　think　of　it　on　these　dark；　mist…blinded　mornings；　as　I　e　down　to　find　a　glorious　fire　crackling　and　leaping　in　my　study。　Suppose　I　were　so　poor　that　I　could　not　afford　that　heartsome　blaze；　how　different　the　whole　day　would　be！　Have　I　not　lost　many　and　many　a　day　of　my　life　for　lack　of　the　material　fort　which　was　necessary　to　put　my　mind　in　tune？　Money　is　time。　With　money　I　buy　for　cheerful　use　the　hours　which　otherwise　would　not　in　any　sense　be　mine；　nay；　which　would　make　me　their　miserable　bondsman。　Money　is　time；　and；　heaven　be　thanked；　there　needs　so　little　of　it　for　this　sort　of　purchase。　He　who　has　overmuch　is　wont　to　be　as　badly　off　in　regard　to　the　true　use　of　money；　as　he　who　has　not　enough。　What　are　we　doing　all　our　lives　but　purchasing；　or　trying　to　purchase；　time？　And　most　of　us；　having　grasped　it　with　one　hand；　throw　it　away　with　the　other。

XXV

The　dark　days　are　drawing　to　an　end。　Soon　it　will　be　spring　once　more；　I　shall　go　out　into　the　fields；　and　shake　away　these　thoughts　of　discouragement　and　fear　which　have　lately　too　much　haunted　my　fireside。　For　me；　it　is　a　virtue　to　be　self…centred；　I　am　much　better　employed；　from　every　point　of　view；　when　I　live　solely　for　my　own　satisfaction；　than　when　I　begin　to　worry　about　the　world。　The　world　frightens　me；　and　a　frightened　man　is　no　good　for　anything。　I　know　only　one　way　in　which　I　could　have　played　a　meritorious　part　as　an　active　citizen……by　being　a　schoolmaster　in　some　little　country　town；　and　teaching　half　a　dozen　teachable　boys　to　love　study　for　its　own　sake。　That　I　could　have　done；　I　daresay。　Yet；　no；　for　I　must　have　had　as　a　young　man　the　same　mind　that　I　have　in　age；　devoid　of　idle　ambitions；　undisturbed　by　unattainable　ideals。　Living　as　I　do　now；　I　deserve　better　of　my　country　than　at　any　time　in　my　working　life；　better；　I　suspect；　than　most　of　those　who　are　praised　for　busy　patriotism。

Not　that　I　regard　my　life　as　an　example　for　any　one　else；　all　I　say　is；　that　it　is　good　for　me；　and　in　so　far　an　advantage　to　the　world。　To　live　in　quiet　content　is　surely　a　piece　of　good　citizenship。　If　you　can　do　more；　do　it；　and　God…speed！　I　know　myself　for　an　exception。　And　I　ever　find　it　a　good　antidote　to　gloomy　thoughts　to　bring　before　my　imagination　the　lives　of　men；　utterly　unlike　me　in　their　minds　and　circumstances；　who　give　themselves　with　glad　and　hopeful　energy　to　the　plain　duties　that　lie　before　them。　However　ones　heart　may　fail　in　thinking　of　the　folly　and　baseness　which　make　so　great　a　part　of　to…days　world；　remember　how　many　bright　souls　are　living　courageously；　seeing　the　good　wherever　it　may　be　discovered；　undismayed　by　portents；　doing　what　they　have　to　do　with　all　their　strength。　In　every　land　there　are　such；　no　few　of　them；　a　great　brotherhood；　without　distinction　of　race　or　faith；　for　they；　indeed；　constitute　the　race　of　man；　rightly　designated；　and　their　faith　is　one；　the　cult　of　reason　and　of　justice。　Whether　the　future　is　to　them　or　to　the　talking　anthropoid；　no　one　can　say。　But　they　live　and　labour；　guarding　the　fire　of　sacred　hope。

In　my　own　country；　dare　I　think　that　they　are　fewer　than　of　old？　Some　I　have　known；　they　give　me　assurance　of　the　many；　near　and　far。　Hearts　of　noble　strain；　intrepid；　generous；　the　clear　head；　the　keen　eye；　a　spirit　equal　alike　to　good　fortune　and　to　ill。　I　see　the　true…born　son　of　England；　his　vigour　and　his　virtues　yet　unimpaired。　In　his　blood　is　the　instinct　of　honour；　the　scorn　of　meanness；　he　cannot　suffer　his　word　to　be　doubted；　and　his　hand　will　give　away　all　he　has　rather　than　profit　by　a　plebeian　parsimony。　He　is　frugal　only　of　needless　speech。　A　friend　staunch　to　the　death；　tender　with　a　grave　sweetness　to　those　who　claim　his　love；　passionate；　beneath　stoic　seeming；　for　the　causes　he　holds　sacred。　A　hater　of　confusion　and　of　idle　noise；　his　place　is　not　where　the　mob　presses；　he　makes　no　vaunt　of　what　he　has　done；　no　boastful　promise　of　what　he　will　do；　when　the　insensate　cry　is　loud；　the　counsel　of　wisdom　overborne；　he　will　hold　apart；　content　with　plain　work　that　lies　nearest　to　his　hand；　building；　strengthening；　whilst　others　riot　in　destruction。　He　was　ever　hopeful；　and　deems　it　a　crime　to　despair　of　his　country。　〃Non；　si　male　nunc；　et　olim　sic　erit。〃　Fallen　on　whatever　evil　days　and　evil　tongues；　he　remembers　that　Englishman　of　old；　who；　under　every　menace；　bore　right　onwards；　and　like　him；　if　so　it　must　be；　can　make　it　his　duty　and　his　service　to　stand　and　wait。

XXVI

Impatient　for　the　light　of　spring；　I　have　slept　lately　with　my　blind　drawn　up；　so　that　at　waking；　I　have　the　sky　in　view。　This　morning；　I　awoke　just　before　sunrise。　The　air　was　still；　a　faint　flush　of　rose　to　westward　told　me　that　the　east　made　fair　promise。　I　could　see　no　cloud；　and　there　before　me；　dropping　to　the　horizon；　glistened　the　horned　moon。

The　promise　held　good。　After　breakfast；　I　could　not　sit　down　by　the　fireside；　indeed；　a　fire　was　scarce　necessary；　the　sun　drew　me　forth；　and　I　walked　all　the　morning　about　the　moist　lanes；　delighting　myself　with　the　scent　of　earth。

On　my　way　home；　I　saw　the　first　celandine。

So；　once　more；　the　year　has　e　full　circle。　And　how　quickly；　alas；　how　quickly！　Can　it　be　a　whole　twelvemonth　since　the　last　spring？　Because　I　am　so　content　with　life；　must　life　slip　away；　as　though　it　grudged　me　my　happiness？　Time　was　when　a　year　drew　its　slow　length　of　toil　and　anxiety　and　ever　frustrate　waiting。　Further　away；　the　year　of　childhood　seemed　endless。　It　is　familiarity　with　life　that　makes　time　speed　quickly。　When　every　day　is　a　step　in　the　unknown；　as　for　children；　the　days　are　long　with　gathering　of　experience；　the　week　gone　by　is　already　far　in　retrospect　of　things　learnt；　and　that　to　e；　especially　if　it　foretell　some　joy；　lingers　in　remoteness。　Past　mid…life；　one　learns　little　and　expects　little。　To…day　is　like　unto　yesterday；　and　to　that　which　shall　be　the　morrow。　Only　torment　of　mind　or　body　serves　to　delay　the　indistinguishable　hours。　Enjoy　the　day；　and；　behold；　it　shrinks　to　a　moment。

I　could　wish　for　many　another　year；　yet；　if　I　knew　that　not　one　more　awaited　me；　I　should　not　grumble。　When　I　was　ill　at　ease　in　the　world；　it　would　have　been　hard　to　die；　I　had　lived　to　no　purpose；　that　I　could　discover；　the　end　would　have　seemed　abrupt　and　meaningless。　Now；　my　life　is　rounded；　it　began　with　the　natural　irreflective　happin