I look southward: there is nothing between me and the lands of heat
but the water. It unites me with them.

It is wonderful that winter should suddenly abdicate and summer
resume her throne. On a morning like this there is no death, the
sin of the world is swallowed up; theological and metaphysical
problems cease to have any meaning. Men and books make me painfully
aware of my littleness and defects, but here on the shore in silence
complete save for the music of the ebbing sea, they vanish.

When I am again in London and at work the dazzling light will not be
extinguished, and will illuminate the dreary darkness of the city.



24TH DECEMBER



My housekeeper and her husband have begged for a holiday from this
morning till Boxing-day, and I could not refuse. I can do without
them for so short a time. I might have spent the Christmas with one
of my children, but they live far away and travelling is now irksome
to me. I was seventy years old a month past. Besides, they are
married and have their own friends, of whom I know nothing. I have
locked the door of my cottage and shall walk to No-man's Corner.

It is a dark day; the sky is covered evenly with a thick cloud.
There is no wind except a breath now and then from the north-east.
It is not a frost, but it is cold, and a thick mist covers the