THE LAST YEARS 379 



March 18, 1902. Marie and Rodolphe got off 

 this morning, and the children and I and Jackie also 

 were at the dining-room window with waving of hands 

 and handkerchiefs, and barks thrown in. I said to 

 Jackie, "You'll miss your master badly, Jackie," to 

 which Marie added as a supreme consolation, "Yes, 

 but you '11 have Grandma." After the travellers had 

 gone the children unpacked with me, and as they 

 found many small surprises for themselves in my 

 baggage they were quite pleased. This afternoon the 

 weather cleared and they had their walk and then we 

 read together and now they are fast asleep. 



March 22. There is little to say. A sort of 

 pause has come in my life, and it has a great 

 charm for me thus far. In the early mornings I am 

 reading the book that Pauline likes so much Reli- 

 gion and Democracy. It is certainly a striking book 

 suggestive to me, at least. But there is a certain sense 

 of effort about the style a striving after originality 

 of form and phrase, sometimes one would say a 

 touch of Emerson, but without his simplicity and un- 

 consciousness. The thoughts are certainly strong and 

 large. One has a sense of completeness in the universe 

 as a whole. And yet, and yet, the mysteries 

 remain. 



March 24- A beautiful day, and I lengthened my 

 walk a little. But walking when you are old is a very 

 different thing from walking when you are young. 

 The springiness, the elasticity is all gone, an im- 

 mense pleasure has become a duty, and yet it is better 

 to keep it up if one can. 



