《四季随笔-the private papers of henry ryecroft(英文版)》

下载本书

添加书签

四季随笔-the private papers of henry ryecroft(英文版)- 第17节


按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页,按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页,按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部!
as 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 solitude; it would have been a national loss。 Every one of his blunt; fearless words had more value than a whole evangel on the lips of a timidly good man。 It is thus that the monalty; however well clad; should be treated。 So seldom does the fool or the ruffian in broadcloth hear his just designation; so seldom is the man found who has a right to address him by it。 By the bandying of insults we profit nothing; there can be no useful rebuke which is exposed to a tu quoque。 But; as the world is; an honest and wise man should have a rough tongue。 Let him speak and spare not!
XIV
Vituperation of the English climate is foolish。 A better climate does not exist……for healthy people; and it is always as regards the average native in sound health that a climate must be judged。 Invalids have no right whatever to talk petulantly of the natural changes of the sky; Nature has not THEM in view; let them (if they can) seek exceptional conditions for their exceptional state; leaving behind them many a million of sound; hearty men and women who take the seasons as they e; and profit by each in turn。 In its freedom from extremes; in its mon clemency; even in its caprice; which at the worst time holds out hope; our island weather pares well with that of other lands。 Who enjoys the fine day of spring; summer; autumn; or winter so much as an Englishman? His perpetual talk of the weather is testimony to his keen relish for most of what it offers him; in lands of blue monotony; even as where climatic conditions are plainly evil; such talk does not go on。 So; granting that we have bad days not a few; that the east wind takes us by the throat; that the mists get at our joints; that the sun hides his glory too often and too long; it is plain that the result of all es to good; that it engenders a mood of zest under the most various aspects of heaven; keeps an edge on our appetite for open…air life。
I; of course; am one of the weaklings who; in grumbling at the weather; merely invite passion。 July; this year; is clouded and windy; very cheerless even here in Devon; I fret and shiver and mutter to myself something about southern skies。 Pshaw! Were I the average man of my years; I should be striding over Haldon; caring not a jot for the heavy sky; finding a score of pensations for the lack of sun。 Can I not have patience? Do I not know that; some morning; the east will open like a bursting bud into warmth and splendour; and the azure depths above will have only the more solace for my starved anatomy because of this protracted disappointment?
XV
I have been at the seaside……enjoying it; yes; but in what a doddering; senile sort of way! Is it I who used to drink the strong wind like wine; who ran exultingly along the wet sands and leapt from rock to rock; barefoot; on the slippery seaweed; who breasted the swelling breaker; and shouted with joy as it buried me in gleaming foam? At the seaside I knew no such thing as bad weather; there were but changes of eager mood and full…blooded life。 Now; if the breeze blow too roughly; if there e a pelting 
小提示:按 回车 [Enter] 键 返回书目,按 ← 键 返回上一页, 按 → 键 进入下一页。 赞一下 添加书签加入书架