e sunk into lowest depths of querulous self-pity, grovelling there
with eyes obstinately averted from the light above?

VIII.

The early coming of spring in this happy Devon gladdens my heart. I
think with chill discomfort of those parts of England where the primrose
shivers beneath a sky of threat rather than of solace. Honest winter,
snow-clad and with the frosted beard, I can welcome not uncordially; but
that long deferment of the calendar's promise, that weeping gloom of
March and April, that bitter blast outraging the honour of May--how often
has it robbed me of heart and hope. Here, scarce have I assured myself
that the last leaf has fallen, scarce have I watched the glistening of
hoar-frost upon the evergreens, when a breath from the west thrills me
with anticipation of bud and bloom. Even under this grey-billowing sky,
which tells that February is still in rule:--

Mild winds shake the elder brake,
And the wandering herdsmen know
That the whitethorn soon will blow.

I have been thinking of those early years of mine in London, when the
seasons passed over me unobserved, when I seldom turned a glance towards
the heavens, and felt no hardship in the imprisonment of boundless
streets. It is strange now to remember that for some six or seven years
I never looked upon a meadow, never travelled even so far as to the tree-
bordered suburbs. I was battling for dear life; on most days I could not
feel certain that in a week's time I should have food and shelter. It
would happen, to be sure, that in hot noons of August my thoughts
wandered to the sea; but so impossible was the gratification of such
desire that it never greatly troubled me. At times, indeed, I seem all
but to have forgotten that people went away for holiday. In those poor
parts of the town where I dwelt, season made no perceptible difference;
there were no luggage-laden cabs to remind me of joyous journeys; the
folk about me went daily to their toil as usual, and so did I. I
remember afternoons of languor, when books were a weariness, and no
thought could be squeezed out of the drowsy brain; then would I betake
myself to one of the parks, and find refreshment without any enjoyable
sense of change. Heavens, how I laboured in those days! And how far I
was from thinking of myself as a subject for compassion! That came
later, when my health had begun to suffer from excess of toil, from bad
air, bad food and many miseries; then aw