四季随笔-the private papers of henry ryecroft(英文版)-第33章

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stockbroker's　office；　mine　hums　very　slowly；　as　though　it　savoured　the　minutes　no　less　than　I　do；　and　when　it　strikes；　the　little　voice　is　silver…sweet；　telling　me　without　sadness　that　another　hour　of　life　is　reckoned；　another　of　the　priceless　hours　…
〃Quae　nobis　pereunt　et　imputantur。〃
After　extinguishing　the　lamp；　and　when　I　have　reached　the　door；　I　always　turn　to　look　back；　my　room　is　so　cosily　alluring　in　the　light　of　the　last　gleeds；　that　I　do　not　easily　move　away。　The　warm　glow　is　reflected　on　shining　wood；　on　my　chair；　my　writing…table；　on　the　bookcases；　and　from　the　gilt　title　of　some　stately　volume；　it　illumes　this　picture；　it　half　disperses　the　gloom　on　that。　I　could　imagine　that；　as　in　a　fairy　tale；　the　books　do　but　await　my　departure　to　begin　talking　among　themselves。　A　little　tongue　of　flame　shoots　up　from　a　dying　ember；　shadows　shift　upon　the　ceiling　and　the　walls。　With　a　sigh　of　utter　contentment；　I　go　forth；　and　shut　the　door　softly。
II
I　came　home　this　afternoon　just　at　twilight；　and；　feeling　tired　after　my　walk；　a　little　cold　too；　I　first　crouched　before　the　fire；　then　let　myself　drop　lazily　upon　the　hearthrug。　I　had　a　book　in　my　hand；　and　began　to　read　it　by　the　firelight。　Rising　in　a　few　minutes；　I　found　the　open　page　still　legible　by　the　pale　glimmer　of　day。　This　sudden　change　of　illumination　had　an　odd　effect　upon　me；　it　was　so　unexpected；　for　I　had　forgotten　that　dark　had　not　yet　fallen。　And　I　saw　in　the　queer　little　experience　an　intellectual　symbol。　The　book　was　verse。　Might　not　the　warm　rays　from　the　fire　exhibit　the　page　as　it　appears　to　an　imaginative　and　kindred　mind；　whilst　that　cold；　dull　light　from　the　window　showed　it　as　it　is　beheld　by　eyes　to　which　poetry　has　but　a　poor；　literal　meaning；　or　none　at　all？
III
It　is　a　pleasant　thing　enough　to　be　able　to　spend　a　little　money　without　fear　when　the　desire　for　some　indulgence　is　strong　upon　one；　but　how　much　pleasanter　the　ability　to　give　money　away！　Greatly　as　I　relish　the　forts　of　my　wonderful　new　life；　no　joy　it　has　brought　me　equals　that　of　ing　in　aid　to　another's　necessity。　The　man　for　ever　pinched　in　circumstances　can　live　only　for　himself。　It　is　all　very　well　to　talk　about　doing　moral　good；　in　practice；　there　is　little　scope　or　hope　for　anything　of　that　kind　in　a　state　of　material　hardship。　To…day　I　have　sent　S…　a　cheque　for　fifty　pounds；　it　will　e　as　a　very　boon　of　heaven；　and　assuredly　blesseth　him　that　gives　as　much　as　him　that　takes。　A　poor　fifty　pounds；　which　the　wealthy　fool　throws　away　upon　some　idle　or　base　fantasy；　and　never　thinks　of　it；　yet　to　S…　it　will　mean　life　and　light。　And　I；　to　whom　this　power　of　benefaction　is　such　a　nebling；　so　glad　and　proud　I　am。　In　the　days　gone　by；　I　have　sometimes　given　money；　but　with　trembling　of　another　kind；　it　was　as　likely　as　not　that　I　myself；　some　black　foggy　morning；　might　have　to　go　begging　for　my　own　dire　needs。　That　is　one　of　the　bitter　curses　of　poverty；　it　leaves　no　right　to　be　generous。　Of　my　abundance……abundance　to　me；　though　starveling　pittance　in　the　view　of　everyday　prosperity……I　can　give　with　happiest　freedom；　I　feel　myself　a　man；　and　no　crouching　slave　with　his　back　ever　ready　for　the　lash　of　circumstance。　There　are　those；　I　know；　who　thank　the　gods　amiss；　and　most　easily　does　this　happen　in　the　matter　of　wealth。　But　oh；　how　good　it　is　to　desire　little；　and　to　have　a　little　more　than　enough！
IV
After　two　or　three　days　of　unseasonable　and　depressing　warmth；　with　lowering　but　not　rainy　sky；　I　woke　this　morning　to　find　the　land　covered　with　a　dense　mist。　There　was　no　daybreak；　and；　till　long　after　the　due　hour；　no　light　save　a　pale；　sad　glimmer　at　the　window；　now；　at　mid…day；　I　begin　dimly　to　descry　gaunt　shapes　of　trees；　whilst　a　haunting　drip；　drip　on　the　garden　soil　tells　me　that　the　vapour　has　begun　to　condense；　and　will　pass　in　rain。　But　for　my　fire；　I　should　be　in　indifferent　spirits　on　such　a　day　as　this；　the　flame　sings　and　leaps；　and　its　red　beauty　is　reflected　in　the　window…glass。　I　cannot　give　my　thoughts　to　reading；　if　I　sat　unoccupied；　they　would　brood　with　melancholy　fixedness　on　I　know　not　what。　Better　to　betake　myself　to　the　old　mechanic　exercise　of　the　pen；　which　cheats　my　sense　of　time　wasted。
I　think　of　fogs　in　London；　fogs　of　murky　yellow　or　of　sheer　black；　such　as　have　often　made　all　work　impossible　to　me；　and　held　me；　a　sort　of　dyspeptic　owl；　in　moping　and　blinking　idleness。　On　such　a　day；　I　remember；　I　once　found　myself　at　an　end　both　of　coal　and　of　lamp…oil；　with　no　money　to　purchase　either；　all　I　could　do　was　to　go　to　bed；　meaning　to　lie　there　till　the　sky　once　more　became　visible。　But　a　second　day　found　the　fog　dense　as　ever。　I　rose　in　darkness；　I　stood　at　the　window　of　my　garret；　and　saw　that　the　street　was　illumined　as　at　night；　lamps　and　shop…fronts　perfectly　visible；　with　folk　going　about　their　business。　The　fog；　in　fact；　had　risen；　but　still　hung　above　the　house…tops；　impermeable　by　any　heavenly　beam。　My　solitude　being　no　longer　endurable；　I　went　out；　and　walked　the　town　for　hours。　When　I　returned；　it　was　with　a　few　coins　which　permitted　me　to　buy　warmth　and　light。　I　had　sold　to　a　second…hand　bookseller　a　volume　which　I　prized；　and　was　so　much　the　poorer　for　the　money　in　my　pocket。
Years　after　that；　I　recall　another　black　morning。　As　usual　at　such　times；　I　was　suffering　from　a　bad　cold。　After　a　sleepless　night；　I　fell　into　a　torpor；　which　held　me　unconscious　for　an　hour　or　two。　Hideous　cries　aroused　me；　sitting　up　in　the　dark；　I　heard　men　going　along　the　street；　roaring　news　of　a　hanging　that　had　just　taken　place。　〃Execution　of　Mrs。〃……I　forget　the　name　of　the　murderess。　〃Scene　on　the　scaffold！〃　It　was　a　little　after　nine　o'clock；　the　enterprising　paper　had　promptly　got　out　its　gibbet　edition。　A　morning　of　midwinter；　roofs　and　ways　covered　with　soot…grimed　snow　under　the　ghastly　fog…pall；　and；　whilst　I　lay　there　in　my　bed；　that　woman　had　been　led　out　and　hanged……hanged。　I　thought　with　horror　of　the　possibility　that　I　might　sicken　and　die　in　that　wilderness　of　houses；　nothing　above　me　but　〃a　foul　and　pestilent　congregation　of　vapours。〃　Overe　with　dread；　I　rose　and　bestirred　myself。　Blinds　drawn；　lamp　lit；　and　by　a　blazing　fire；　I　tried　to　make　believe　that　it　was　kindly　night。
V
Walking　along　the　road　after　nightfall；　I　thought　all　at　once　of　London　streets；　and；　by　a　freak　of　mind；　wished　I　were　there。　I　saw　the　shining　of　shop…fronts；　the　yellow　glistening　of　a　wet　pavement；　the　hurrying　people；　the　cabs；　the　omnibuses……and　I　wished　I　were　amid　it　all。
What　did　it　mean；　but　that　I　wished　I　were　young　again？　Not　seldom　I　have　a　sudden　vision　of　a　London　street；　perhaps　the　dreariest　and　ugliest；　which　for　a　moment　gives　me　a　feeling　of　home…sickness。　Often　it　is　the　High　Street　of　Islington；　which　I　have　not　seen　for　a　quarter　of　a　century；　at　least；　no　thoroughfare　in　all　London　less　attractive　to　the　imagination；　one　would　say；　but　I　see　myself　walking　there……walking　with　the　quick；　light　step　of　youth；　and　there；　of　course；　is　the　charm。　I　see　myself；　after　a　long　day　of　work　and　loneliness；　setting　forth　from　my　lodging。　For　the　weather　I　care　nothing；　rain；　wind；　fog……what　does　it　matter！　The　fresh　air　fills　my　lungs；　my　blood　circles　rapidly；　I　feel　my　muscles；　and　have　a　pleasure　in　the　hardness　of　the　stone　I　tread　upon。　Perhaps　I　have　money　in　my　pocket；　I　am　going　to　the　theatre；　and；　afterwards；　I　shall　treat　myself　to　supper……sausage　and　mashed　potatoes；　with　a　pint　of　foaming　ale。　The　gusto　with　which　I　look　forward　to　each　and　every　enjoyment！　At　the　pit…door；　I　shall　roll　and　hustle　amid　the　throng；　and　find　it　amusing。　Nothing　tires　me。　Late　at　night；　I　shall　walk　all　the　way　back　to　Islington；　most　likely　singing　as　I　go。　Not　because　I　am　happy……nay；　I　am　anything　but　that；　but　my　age　is　something　and　twenty；　I　am　strong　and　well。
Put　me　in　a　London　street　this　chill；　damp　night；　and　I　should　be　lost　in　barren　disfort。　But　in　those　old　days；　if　I　am　not　mistaken；　I　rather　preferred　the　seasons　of　bad　weather；　I　had；　in　fact；　the　true　instinct　of　townsfolk；　which　finds　pleasure　in　the　triumph　of　artificial　circumstance　over　natural　conditions；　delighting　in　a　glare　and　tumult　of　busy　life　under　hostile　heavens　which；　elsewhere；　woul