diary. Expect more of it.--T. B.


April 7.--I find myself, after all, compelled to begin my walking
tour alone. At the last moment Murchison has thrown me over. His
father is ill, and he is compelled to spend his holidays at home. I
do not altogether like to set off by myself, but it is too late to
try and arrange for another companion. I had rather, however, go by
myself than with some one who is not absolutely congenial. One
requires on these occasions to have a companion whose horizon is
the same as one's own. I daresay I could find an old friend, who is
not also a colleague, to go with me, but it would mean a certain
amount of talk to bring us into line. Then, too, I have had a very
busy term; besides my form work, I have had a good deal of extra
teaching to do with the Army Class boys. It is interesting work,
for the boys are interested, not in the subjects so much, as in
mastering them for examination purposes. Yet it matters little how
the interest is obtained, as long as the boys believe in the
usefulness of what they are doing. But the result is that I am
tired out. I have lived with boys from morning to night, and my
spare time has been taken up with working at my subjects. I have
had hardly any exercise, and but a scanty allowance of sleep. Now I
mean to have both. I shall spend my days in the open air, and I
shall sleep, I hope, like a top at nights. Gradually I shall
recover my power of enjoyment; for the worst of such weeks as I
have been passing through is that they leave one dreary and jaded;
one finds oneself in that dull mood when one cannot even realise
beautiful things. I hear a thrush sing in a bush, or the sunset
flames broadly behind the elms, and I say to myself, "That is very
beautiful if only I could feel it to be so!" Boys are exhausting