XVIII 



OF THE CRACKLING OF THORNS 



SOMETIMES, as I walk on the valley road 

 on my way to or from the water, a 

 waggonette containing a party of pleasure meets 

 or passes me. I always have the feeling that the 

 incident has sensibly enlivened the journey for 

 these people. Did they seem bored ? Smiles 

 appear. Were they hilarious? The downs 

 reverberate with their cachinnations. Mirth in 

 itself is good ; therefore I like to hear these people 

 laugh, to see them smile. But mirth of that par- 

 ticular quality is not good. Its other name is 

 derision ; it is the child of ignorance, and ignor- 

 ance is begotten of the pit. Therefore I weep 

 that I should be the cause of stumbling to these 

 poor souls. But what am I to do ? 



I know that my costume and equipment are 

 to blame, and they alone. In myself I am not 

 a ludicrous-looking man. My features are no 

 more out of drawing than those of ninety-nine 

 in a hundred. I am no homme qui Tit. If you 



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