WINTER IN WEST DOWNLAND 297 



on each occasion, when, on account of this perpetual 

 gnawing dissatisfaction with life, he came back to the 

 old place, instantly the trouble vanished ; he breathed 

 freely and was at rest once more, perfectly contented, 

 perfectly happy. 



It took him a long time to tell me all this, as 

 he had some difficulty in putting his ideas into 

 words ; and then followed the declaration — a wholly 

 false conclusion to which he had been brought — 

 that the scenery in this corner of West Sussex, amid 

 which he had lived and which he had shown me 

 with so mn.ich pride, was the most perfectly beautiful 

 in the whole country. For how else could it have 

 taken such a hold upon his heart as to make it 

 impossible for him to exist in any comfort away 

 from it ? 



He was not overpleased to hear me say that he 

 was mistaken ; that the home feeling is in some 

 degree universal in men born and bred amid rural 

 scenes, but varies greatly in different persons ; and 

 that when it is exceptionally strong, as in his case, 

 it produces an illusion and a delusion — a belief that 

 the one loved spot is in itself in some way better 

 than all other places ; that the superior beauty, or 

 charm, or restfulness which the heart finds in that 

 spot is actually mherent in it. Much more I said 

 on this subject, and told him that men had been 

 known even to die of that malady that had affected 

 him, although the scenes for which they had pined 



