第24部分(第5/7 頁)

　give　my　thoughts　to　reading；　if　I　sat　unoccupied；　they　would　brood　with　melancholy　fixedness　on　I　know　not　what。　Better　to　betake　myself　to　the　old　mechanic　exercise　of　the　pen；　which　cheats　my　sense　of　time　wasted。

I　think　of　fogs　in　London；　fogs　of　murky　yellow　or　of　sheer　black；　such　as　have　often　made　all　work　impossible　to　me；　and　held　me；　a　sort　of　dyspeptic　owl；　in　moping　and　blinking　idleness。　On　such　a　day；　I　remember；　I　once　found　myself　at　an　end　both　of　coal　and　of　lamp…oil；　with　no　money　to　purchase　either；　all　I　could　do　was　to　go　to　bed；　meaning　to　lie　there　till　the　sky　once　more　became　visible。　But　a　second　day　found　the　fog　dense　as　ever。　I　rose　in　darkness；　I　stood　at　the　window　of　my　garret；　and　saw　that　the　street　was　illumined　as　at　night；　lamps　and　shop…fronts　perfectly　visible；　with　folk　going　about　their　business。　The　fog；　in　fact；　had　risen；　but　still　hung　above　the　house…tops；　impermeable　by　any　heavenly　beam。　My　solitude　being　no　longer　endurable；　I　went　out；　and　walked　the　town　for　hours。　When　I　returned；　it　was　with　a　few　coins　which　permitted　me　to　buy　warmth　and　light。　I　had　sold　to　a　second…hand　bookseller　a　volume　which　I　prized；　and　was　so　much　the　poorer　for　the　money　in　my　pocket。

Years　after　that；　I　recall　another　black　morning。　As　usual　at　such　times；　I　was　suffering　from　a　bad　cold。　After　a　sleepless　night；　I　fell　into　a　torpor；　which　held　me　unconscious　for　an　hour　or　two。　Hideous　cries　aroused　me；　sitting　up　in　the　dark；　I　heard　men　going　along　the　street；　roaring　news　of　a　hanging　that　had　just　taken　place。　〃Execution　of　Mrs。〃……I　forget　the　name　of　the　murderess。　〃Scene　on　the　scaffold！〃　It　was　a　little　after　nine　o'clock；　the　enterprising　paper　had　promptly　got　out　its　gibbet　edition。　A　morning　of　midwinter；　roo