The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1898-09-02

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the latter I meant to imply no more
than that l am fond of reading, and
that it is my intention to Jot down
from time to time my sensations and
experiences In the new life which has
burst upon me. At the same time
have been greatly depressed. Why, l
can hardly explain. l have been fu-
rious with myself. Sitting in my own
sitting-room, with gold-tipped cigar
cite between my fingers, 1 have been
possessed (even though ! recognized
1t as an absurdity) by feeling that if
Mr.. Toller were TO come in suddenly l
should get up and apologize. But the
thing which depressed me most was
the open country. I have read, of
course, those penny stories about the
poor little ragged boys who never see
the green leaf in their lives, and I al
ways thought them exaggerated. So
they are exaggerated; there are the
Embankment gardens with the Press
band playing; there are parks; there
are Sunday school treats. All these
little ragged boys see the green leaf,
v
toni am afraid O willful exaggera-
ton. But to see the open country is
quite different thing. Yesterday was
q fine day, and was out all day in a
place called Wensley Dale. On one
spot where stood could see for miles
all around. There was not single
house, or tree. or human being In
~, Tharo y,,x,co1f tha
top of a moor; the bigness of 1t gave
me regular scare. suppose had
got used to walls; had got used to
feeling that if went straight ahead
without stopping I should knock
against something. That somehow
made me feel safe. Out on that great
moor-just as If l were the last man
left alive in the world do not feel
safe. 1 find the track and get home
again, ard tremble like a half
drowned kitten until I see wall
again, or somebody with a surly face
who does not answer civilly when I
speak to him All these feelings will
wear off, no doubt, and shall be able
to enter upon the new phase of my
existence without any discomfort.
But was quite right to take few
months quiet retirement. One must
get used to things gradually. 1t was
the same with the champagne-to
which, by the way, had not meant to
allude any further.
June 20-It is remarkable what n
fascination these very large moors
have for me. 1t is not exactly fear any
more-~indeed, 1t must be the reverse.
do not care to be anywhere else. In
stead of making this mere pause be-
! tween two different eXistences, l shall
continue it. To that have quite made
up my mind. When I am out there in
or houses, or living things, I am the
last person left alive in the world. /
am kind of god, There is nobody
| to think anything at oil about me, and
it does not matter If my clothes are
not right or if drop an "h"-which
rarely do except when speaking very
quickly. Inever knew what real indie
pendence was before. There have been
too many houses around, and too
many people looking on. 1t seems to
me now such a common and despicable
thing to live among people and to have
ones character and ones ways al
tered by what they are going to think.
I know now that when l ordered that
| bottle of champagne ] did II far more
to please the waiter and to make him
think well of me than to please myself.
1 pity the kind of creature that was
then, but I had not known the open
country at that time. 1t Is grand
education. If Toller were to come in
| now should say! "de away. 60 back
to your bricks and mortar, and ac-
count books, and swell friends, and
white waistcoats, and rubbish of that
kind. You cannot possibly understand
me, and your presence irritates me.
If yop do not go at once Twill have the
dog let loose upon yoH." BY the way,
that was a curious thing which hap
pened the other day. l feed the dog,
a mastiff, regularly, and it goes out
with me. We had walked some way
and had reached that spot where a
man becomes the last man alive In the
WOElu. ouuucllly INC Jug OSEuh ~
howl and ran off home with its tail be-
tween it's legs as if it were frightened
of something. What was it that the
dog had seen afd had not seen2 A
ghost? In broad daylight? Well, if
the dead come back they might walk
here without contamination. A few
sheep, a sweep of heather, o gray sky,
but nothing that living man planted
or built. They could be alone here. If
ii were not that it would seem o kind
of blasphemy, I would buy a piece of
| land in the very middle of the loneliest
moor and build myself cottage there.
June 23.-I received a letter to-day
from Julia. Of course she does not un-
derstand the change which has taken
place in me. She writes as she always
used to write, and find it very hard to
remember and realize that liked it
once, and was glad when got letter
from her. That was before got into
the habit of going into empty places
alone. The old clerking, account book
life has become too small to care
about. The swell life of the private
gentleman, to which looked forward,
IL also not worth considering As for
Julia, l was to have married her;
used to kiss her. She wrote to say that
she thought u great deal of me; she
still writes. don't want her. don't
want anything. Ihaye become the last