第10部分(第3/7 頁)

e　pleasure。　She　speaks；　if　possible；　in　a　softer　voice；　she　wears　a　garment　which　reminds　me　that　there　is　only　the　lightest　and　cleanest　housework　to　be　done。　She　will　go　to　church；　morning　and　evening；　and　I　know　that　she　is　better　for　it。　During　her　absence　I　sometimes　look　into　rooms　which　on　other　days　I　never　enter；　it　is　merely　to　gladden　my　eyes　with　the　shining　cleanliness；　the　perfect　order；　I　am　sure　to　find　in　the　good　woman's　domain。　But　for　that　spotless　and　sweet…smelling　kitchen；　what　would　it　avail　me　to　range　my　books　and　hang　my　pictures？　All　the　tranquillity　of　my　life　depends　upon　the　honest　care　of　this　woman　who　lives　and　works　unseen。　And　I　am　sure　that　the　money　I　pay　her　is　the　least　part　of　her　reward。　She　is　such　an　old…fashioned　person　that　the　mere　discharge　of　what　she　deems　a　duty　is　in　itself　an　end　to　her；　and　the　work　of　her　hands　in　itself　a　satisfaction；　a　pride。

When　a　child；　I　was　permitted　to　handle　on　Sunday　certain　books　which　could　not　be　exposed　to　the　more　careless　usage　of　mon　days；　volumes　finely　illustrated；　or　the　more　handsome　editions　of　familiar　authors；　or　works　which；　merely　by　their　bulk；　demanded　special　care。　Happily；　these　books　were　all　of　the　higher　rank　in　literature；　and　so　there　came　to　be　established　in　my　mind　an　association　between　the　day　of　rest　and　names　which　are　the　greatest　in　verse　and　prose。　Through　my　life　this　habit　has　remained　with　me；　I　have　always　wished　to　spend　some　part　of　the　Sunday　quiet　with　books　which；　at　most　times；　it　is　fatally　easy　to　leave　aside；　one's　very　knowledge　and　love　of　them　serving　as　an　excuse　for　their　neglect　in　favour　of　print　which　has　the　attraction　of　newness。　Homer　and　Virgil；　Milton　and　Shakespeare；　not　many　Sundays　have　gone　by　without　my　opening　one　o