He never speaks of these things, but how shall they be hid?
Everybody here knows everything that happens before the day is over,
and what we have for dinner is of far greater general interest
than the most astounding political earthquake. They have a pretty,
roomy cottage, and a good bit of ground adjoining the churchyard.
His predecessor used to hang out his washing on the tombstones to dry,
but then he was a person entirely lost to all sense of decency,
and had finally to be removed, preaching a farewell sermon
of a most vituperative description, and hurling invective at
the Man of Wrath, who sat up in his box drinking in every word
and enjoying himself thoroughly. The Man of Wrath likes novelty,
and such a sermon had never been heard before. It is spoken
of in the village to this day with bated breath and awful joy.


December 22nd.--Up to now we have had a beautiful winter.
Clear skies, frost, little wind, and, except for a sharp touch
now and then, very few really cold days. My windows are gay with
hyacinths and lilies of the valley; and though, as I have said,
I don't admire the smell of hyacinths in the spring when it seems
wanting in youth and chastity next to that of other flowers,
I am glad enough now to bury my nose in their heavy sweetness.
In December one cannot afford to be fastidious; besides, one is
actually less fastidious about everything in the winter.
The keen air braces soul as well as body into robustness,
and the food and the perfume disliked in the summer are
perfectly welcome then.

I am very busy preparing for Christmas, but have
often locked myself up in a room alone, shutting out my