MAY 321 



started from there to travel alone for the first time in my 

 life. 



I did not want to feel sad or lonely, which would have 

 been foolish, as I was deliberately going to please myself ; 

 and I could not help smiling as I thought over a sentence 

 in the Journal of Marie Bashkirtseff, and what she says 

 about travelling with one's family : ' Je comprend qu'on 

 soit heureux de vivre en famille, et je serais malheureuse 

 seule. On peut aller faire des achats en famille, aller au 

 Bois en famille, quelquefois au Theatre. On peut etre 

 malade en famille, faire des cures en famille, enfin tout ce 

 qui est de la vie intime et des choses ne"cessaires ; mais 

 voyager en famille ! ! ! C'est comme si on prenait plaisir 

 a valser avec sa tante. C'est ennuyeux mortellement, et 

 mtoe quelque peu ridicule.' 



Railway travelling is always such a joy to me. I 

 never know which I like best looking out of the window, 

 or feeling that I can read in peace without the disturbances 

 which are perpetually occurring elsewhere. Going through 

 France, I am always struck afresh by the thinly populated 

 look of the country, except just near the towns. 



I had in my travelling-bag a cutting from the ' Daily 

 Telegraph ' of January 5th, 1898 : Mr. Gladstone's account 

 of Hallam. A remarkably interesting paper, one of those 

 rare gifts sometimes bestowed upon us by the daily press. 

 It must have been almost the last, if not quite the last, 

 thing of any importance the old man ever wrote. 



Has it ever been explained why the recollections of youth 

 are so engraven on the brain and flash out in old age with 

 such vivid clearness ? Educated and uneducated, clever 

 and stupid, all seem to share the same experience. The 

 dullest of old people are interesting if allowed to talk of 

 their youth and themselves. The only drawback is that they 

 enjoy repeating over and over again what they -remember. 

 Gladstone's half -jealous criticism of Hallam spending 



Y 



