Троє в човні крім собаки

           Iobjected. Idon’tknowwhetheritisthatIambuiltwrong,butIneverdidseemtohankeraftertombstonesmyself. Iknowthattheproperthingtodo,whenyougettoavillageortown,istorushofftothechurchyard,andenjoythegraves; butitisarecreationthatIalwaysdenymyself. Itakenointerestincreepingrounddimandchillychurchesbehindwheezyoldmen,andreadingepitaphs. NoteventhesightofabitofcrackedbrassletintoastoneaffordsmewhatIcallrealhappiness. 

           IshockrespectablesextonsbytheimperturbabilityIamabletoassumebeforeexcitinginscriptions,andbymylackofenthusiasmforthelocalfamilyhistory,whilemyill-concealedanxietytogetoutsidewoundstheirfeelings. 

           Onegoldenmorningofasunnyday,Ileantagainstthelowstonewallthatguardedalittlevillagechurch,andIsmoked,anddrankindeep,calmgladnessfromthesweet,restfulscene —thegreyoldchurchwithitsclusteringivyanditsquaintcarvedwoodenporch,thewhitelanewindingdownthehillbetweentallrowsofelms,thethatched-roofcottagespeepingabovetheirtrim-kepthedges,thesilverriverinthehollow,thewoodedhillsbeyond! 

           Itwasalovelylandscape. Itwasidyllic,poetical,anditinspiredme. Ifeltgoodandnoble. IfeltIdidn’twanttobesinfulandwickedanymore. Iwouldcomeandlivehere,andneverdoanymorewrong,andleadablameless,beautifullife,andhavesilverhairwhenIgotold,andallthatsortofthing. 

           InthatmomentIforgaveallmyfriendsandrelationsfortheirwickednessandcussedness,andIblessedthem. TheydidnotknowthatIblessedthem. TheywenttheirabandonedwayallunconsciousofwhatI,farawayinthatpeacefulvillage,wasdoingforthem; butIdidit,andIwishedthatIcouldletthemknowthatIhaddoneit,becauseIwantedtomakethemhappy.