most eight, to show his power,
I suppose, or to protest against some probably quite real grievance or
tangible indignity, came there secretly one morning in our absence,
took a shovelful of red-hot coals from the fire, laid them on the
hearth-rug, and departed. The conflagration was discovered in time,
the author of the crime detected, and even the most tolerant of
supporters of nursery anarchy could find nothing to criticise or
condemn in the punishment justly meted out to the offender.

But here was the extraordinary part of it all. I am myself somewhat
afraid of emotional retrospect, which seems to me as a rule to have a
peculiarly pungent and unbearable smart about it. I do not as a rule
like revisiting places which I have loved and where I have been happy;
it is simply incurring quite unnecessary pain, and quite fruitless
pain, deliberately to unearth buried memories of happiness.

Now at Lincoln the other day I found, to my wonder and relief, that
there was not the least touch of regret, no sense of sorrow or loss in
the air. I did not want it all back again, nor would I have lived
through it again, even if I could have done so. The thought of
returning to it seemed puerile; it was charming, delightful, all full
of golden prospects and sunny mornings, but an experience which had
yielded up its sweetness as a summer cloud yields its cooling rain,
and passes over. Yet it was all a perfectly true, real, and actual
part of my life, something of which I could never lose hold and for
which I could always be frankly grateful. Life has been by no means a
scene of untroubled happiness since then; but there came to me that
day, walking along the fragrant garden-paths, very clearly and
distinctly, the knowledge that one would not wish one's life to have
been untroubled! Halcyon calm, heedless innocence, childish joy, was
not after all the point--pretty things enough, but only as a change
and a relief, or perhaps rather as a prelude to more serious business!
I was, as a boy, afraid of life, hated its noise and scent, suspected
it of cruelty and coarseness, wanted to keep it at arm's length. I
feel very differently about life now; it's a boisterous business
enough, but does not molest one unduly; and a very little courage goes
a long way in dealing with it!

True, on looking back, the evolution was dim and obscure; there seemed
many blind alleys and passages, many unnecessary winds and turns in
the road; but for all that th