He did not get up till very late, and complained to me more than once of a terrible listlessness and dejection to which he was liable during the earlier part of the day.

But he spoke little of his own sufferings, or rather _malaise_, which I gathered was very great, only saying once or twice, "It is fortunate how habituated one gets to things, even to enduring discomfort.

If I can only get my mind occupied, it hardly ever distracts me now." And again--"I think the only really valuable experiences are those that we can not lay down and take up at will, but which continue with us, invariable, unaltering, day after day, meeting us at every moment and tempering every mood." And once--"In spite of everything, I would not for an instant go back.

I have every now and then, on breezy sunny mornings or after rain, an intense gush of yearning for the peculiar unconscious delight--the index of perfect physical health--of childhood; but I never deliberately wish that things were otherwise.

I enjoy nature more, far more, than ever I did.