old it with greater zest.

We went to our room, but until the small hours the wind of the old
traveller's talk could still be heard at intervals from the kitchen,
mingled with occasional shrill explosions of laughter from the listening
children.

It happened that on the following day, spent in idling in the forest and
about the hamlet, conversing with the cottagers, we were told that
our old man was a bit of a humbug; that he was a great talker, with a
hundred schemes for the improvement of his fortunes, and, incidently,
for the benefit of his neighbours and the world at large; but nothing
came of it all and he was now fast sinking into the lowest depths of
poverty. Yet who would blame him? 'Tis the nature of the gorse to be
"unprofitably gay." All that, however, is a question for the moralist;
the point now is that in walking, even in that poor way, when, on
account of physical weakness, it was often a pain and weariness, there
are alleviations which may be more to us than positive pleasures, and
scenes to delight the eye that are missed by the wheelman in his haste,
or but dimly seen or vaguely surmised in passing--green refreshing nooks
and crystal streamlets, and shadowy woodland depths with glimpses of a
blue sky beyond--all in the wilderness of the human heart.

Chapter Four: Seeking a Shelter

The "walks" already spoken of, at a time when life had little or no
other pleasure for us on account of poverty and ill-health, were taken
at pretty regular intervals two or three times a year. It all depended
on our means; in very lean years there was but one outing. It was
impossible to escape altogether from the immense unfriendly wilderness
of London simply because, albeit "unfriendly," it yet appeared to be the
only place in the wide world where our poor little talents could earn us
a few shillings a week to live on. Music and literature! but I fancy the
nearest crossing-sweeper did better, and could afford to give himself a
more generous dinner every day. It occasionally happened that an
article sent to some magazine was not returned, and always after so many
rejections to have one accepted and paid for with a cheque worth several
pounds was a cause of astonishment, and was as truly a miracle as if the
angel of the sun had compassionately thrown us down a handful of gold.
And out of these little handfuls enough was sometimes saved for the
country rambles at Easter and Whitsuntide and in the autumn. It was