library　in　the　chilly　evenings。　　The　babies　go　out　in　the　afternoon　and　blackberry　in　the　hedges；　the　three　kittens；　grown　big　and　fat；　sit　cleaning　themselves　on　the　sunny　verandah　steps；　the　Man　of　Wrath　shoots　partridges　across　the　distant　stubble；　and　the　summer　seems　as　though　it　would　dream　on　for　ever。　It　is　hard　to　believe　that　in　three　months　we　shall　probably　be　snowed　up　and　certainly　be　cold。　　There　is　a　feeling　about　this　month　that　reminds　me　of　March　and　the　early　days　of　April；　when　spring　is　still　hesitating　on　the　threshold　and　the　garden　holds　its　breath　in　expectation。　　There　is　the　same　mildness　in　the　air；　and　the　sky　and　grass　have　the　same　look　as　then；　but　the　leaves　tell　a　different　tale；　and　the　reddening　creeper　on　the　house　is　rapidly　approaching　its　last　and　loveliest　glory。
  My　roses　have　behaved　as　well　on　the　whole　as　was　to　be　expected；　and　the　Viscountess　Folkestones　and　Laurette　Messimys　have　been　most　beautiful；　the　latter　being　quite　the　loveliest　things　in　the　garden；　each　flower　an　exquisite　loose　cluster　of　coral…pink　petals；　paling　at　the　base　to　a　yellow…white。　I　have　ordered　a　hundred　standard　tea…roses　for　planting　next　month；　half　of　which　are　Viscountess　Folkestones；　because　the　tea…roses　have　such　a　way　of　hanging　their　little　heads　that　one　has　to　kneel　down　to　be　able　to　see　them　well　in　the　dwarf　forms　not　but　what　I　entirely　approve　of　kneeling　before　such　perfect　beauty；　only　it　dirties　one's　clothes。　　So　I　am　going　to　put　standards　down　each　side　of　the　walk　under　the　south　windows；　and　shall　have　the　flowers　on　a　convenient　level　for　worship。　　My　only　fear　is；　that　they　will　stand　the　winter　less　well　than　the　dwarf　sorts；　being　so　difficult　to　pack　up　snugly。　The　Persian　Yellows　and　Bicolors　have　been；　as　I　predicted；　a　mistake　among　the　tea…roses；　they　only　flower　twice　in　the　season　and　all　the　rest　of　the　time　look　dull　and　moping；　and　then　the　Persian　Yellows　have　such　an　odd　smell　and　so　many　insects　inside　them　eating　them　up。　I　have　ordered　Safrano　tea…roses　to　put　in　their　place；　as　they　all　come　out　next　month　and　are　to　be　grouped　in　the　grass；　and　the　semicircle　being　immediately　under　the　windows；　besides　having　the　best　position　in　the　place；　must　be　reserved　solely　for　my　choicest　treasures。　I　have　had　a　great　many　disappointments；　but　feel　as　though　I　were　really　beginning　to　learn。　　Humility；　and　the　most　patient　perseverance；　seem　almost　as　necessary　in　gardening　as　rain　and　sunshine；　and　every　failure　must　be　used　as　a　stepping…stone　to　something　better。
  I　had　a　visitor　last　week　who　knows　a　great　deal　about　gardening　and　has　had　much　practical　experience。　When　I　heard　he　was　coming；　I　felt　I　wanted　to　put　my　arms　right　round　my　garden　and　hide　it　from　him；　but　what　was　my　surprise　and　delight　when　he　said；　after　having　gone　all　over　it；　〃Well；　I　think　you　have　done　wonders。〃　　Dear　me；　how　pleased　I　was！　It　was　so　entirely　unexpected；　and　such　a　complete　novelty　after　the　remarks　I　have　been　listening　to　all　the　summer。　I　could　have　hugged　that　discerning　and　indulgent　critic；　able　to　look　beyond　the　result　to　the　intention；　and　appreciating　the　difficulties　of　every　kind　that　had　been　in　the　way。　After　that　I　opened　my　heart　to　him；　and　listened　reverently　to　all　he　had　to　say；　and　treasured　up　his　kind　and　encouraging　advice；　and　wished　he　could　stay　here　a　whole　year　and　help　me　through　the　seasons。　　But　he　went；　as　people　one　likes　always　do　go；　and　he　was　the　only　guest　I　have　had　whose　departure　made　me　sorry。
  The　people　I　love　are　always　somewhere　else　and　not　able　to　come　to　me；　while　I　can　at　any　time　fill　the　house　with　visitors　about　whom　I　know　little　and　care　less。　　Perhaps；　if　I　saw　more　of　those　absent　ones；　I　would　not　love　them　so　well　at　least；　that　is　what　I　think　on　wet　days　when　the　wind　is　howling　round　the　house　and　all　nature　is　overcome　with　grief；　and　it　has　actually　happened　once　or　twice　when　great　friends　have　been　staying　with　me　that　I　have　wished；　when　they　left；　I　might　not　see　them　again　for　at　least　ten　years。　　I　suppose　the　fact　is；　that　no　friendship　can　stand　the　breakfast　test；　and　here；　in　the　country；　we　invariably　think　it　our　duty　to　appear　at　breakfast。　　Civilisation　has　done　away　with　curl…papers；　yet　at　that　hour　the　soul　of　the　Hausfrau　is　as　tightly　screwed　up　in　them　as　was　ever　her　grandmother's　hair；　and　though　my　body　comes　down　mechanically；　having　been　trained　that　way　by　punctual　parents；　my　soul　never　thinks　of　beginning　to　wake　up　for　other　people　till　lunch…time；　and　never　does　so　completely　till　it　has　been　taken　out　of　doors　and　aired　in　the　sunshine。　Who　can　begin　conventional　amiability　the　first　thing　in　the　morning？　It　is　the　hour　of　savage　instincts　and　natural　tendencies；　it　is　the　triumph　of　the　Disagreeable　and　the　Cross。　I　am　convinced　that　the　Muses　and　the　Graces　never　thought　of　having　breakfast　anywhere　but　in　bed。
  November　11th。When　the　gray　November　weather　came；　and　hung　its　soft　dark　clouds　low　and　unbroken　over　the　brown　of　the　ploughed　fields　and　the　vivid　emerald　of　the　stretches　of　winter　corn；　the　heavy　stillness　weighed　my　heart　down　to　a　forlorn　yearning　after　the　pleasant　things　of　childhood；　the　petting；　the　comforting；　the　warming　faith　in　the　unfailing　wisdom　of　elders。　A　great　need　of　something　to　lean　on；　and　a　great　weariness　of　independence　and　responsibility　took　possession　of　my　soul；　and　looking　round　for　support　and　comfort　in　that　transitory　mood；　the　emptiness　of　the　present　and　the　blankness　of　the　future　sent　me　back　to　the　past　with　all　its　ghosts。　　Why　should　I　not　go　and　see　the　place　where　I　was　born；　and　where　I　lived　so　long；　the　place　where　I　was　so　magnificently　happy；　so　exquisitely　wretched；　so　close　to　heaven；　so　near　to　hell；　always　either　up　on　a　cloud　of　glory；　or　down　in　the　depths　with　the　waters　of　despair　closing　over　my　head？　Cousins　live　in　it　now；　distant　cousins；　loved　with　the　exact　measure　of　love　usually　bestowed　on　cousins　who　reign　in　one's　stead；　cousins　of　practical　views；　who　have　dug　up　the　flower…beds　and　planted　cabbages　where　roses　grew；　and　though　through　all　the　years　since　my　father's　death　I　have　held　my　head　so　high　that　it　hurt；　and　loftily　refused　to　listen　to　their　repeated　suggestions　that　I　should　revisit　my　old　home；　something　in　the　sad　listlessness　of　the　November　days　sent　my　spirit　back　to　old　times　with　a　persistency　that　would　not　be　set　aside；　and　I　woke　from　my　musings　surprised　to　find　myself　sick　with　longing。　　　It　is　foolish　but　natural　to　quarrel　with　one's　cousins；　and　especially　foolish　and　natural　when　they　have　done　nothing；　and　are　mere　victims　of　chance。　　Is　it　their　fault　that　my　not　being　a　boy　placed　the　shoes　I　should　otherwise　have　stepped　into　at　their　disposal？　I　know　it　is　not；　but　their　blamelessness　does　not　make　me　love　them　more。　〃Noch　ein　dummes　Frauenzimmer！〃　cried　my　father；　on　my　arrival　into　the　world　he　had　three　of　them　already；　and　I　was　his　last　hope；and　a　dummes　Frauenzimmer　I　have　remained　ever　since；　and　that　is　why　for　years　I　would　have　no　dealings　with　the　cousins　in　possession；　and　that　is　why；　the　other　day；　overcome　by　the　tender　influence　of　the　weather；　the　purely　sentimental　longing　to　join　hands　again　with　my　childhood　was　enough　to　send　all　my　pride　to　the　winds；　and　to　start　me　off　without　warning　and　without　invitation　on　my　pilgrimage。
  I　have　always　had　a　liking　for　pilgrimages；　and　if　I　had　lived　in　the　Middle　Ages　would　have　spent　most　of　my　time　on　the　way　to　Rome。　　The　pilgrims；　leaving　all　their　cares　at　home；　the　anxieties　of　their　riches　or　their　debts；　the　wife　that　worried　and　the　children　that　disturbed；　took　only　their　sins　with　them；　and　turning　their　backs　on　their　obligations；　set　out　with　that　sole　burden；　and　perhaps　a　cheerful　heart。　How　cheerful　my　heart　would　have　been；　starting　on　a　fine　morning；　with　the　smell　of　the　spring　in　my　nostrils；　fortified　by　the　approval　of　those　left　behind；　accompanied　by　the　pious　blessings　of　my　family；　with　every　step　getting　farther　from　the　suffocation　of　daily　duties；　out　into　the　wide　fresh　world；　out　into　the　glorious　free　world；　so　poor；　so　penitent；　and　so　happy！　　My　dream；　even　now；　is　to　walk　for　weeks　with　some　friend　that　I　love；　leisurely　wandering　from　place　to　place；　with　no　route　arranged　and　no　object　in　view；　with　liberty　to　go　on　all　day　or　to　linger　all　day；　as　we　choose；　but　the　question　of　luggage；　unknown　to　the　simple　pilgrim；　is　one　of　the　rocks　on　which　my　plans　have　been　shipwrecked；　and　the　other　is　the　certain　censure　of　relatives；　who；　not　fond　of　walking　themselves；　and　having　no　taste　for　noonday　naps　under　hedges；　would　be　sure　to　paralyse　my　plans　before　they　had　grown　to　maturity　by　the　honest　horror　of　their　cry；　〃How　very　unpleasant　if　you　were　to　meet　any　one　you　know！〃　The　relative　of　five　hundred　years　back　would　simply　have　said；　〃How　holy！〃
  My　father　had　the　same　liking　for　pilgrimagesindeed；　it　is　evident　that　I　have　it　from　himand　he　encouraged　it　in　me　when　I　was　little；　taking　me　with　him　on　his　pious　journeys　to　places　he　had　lived　in　as　a　boy。　Often　have　we　been　together　to　the　school　he　was　at　in　Brandenburg；　and　spent　pleasant　days　wandering　about