第1部分(第4/7 頁)

un　not　very　long　after　the　writer's　settling　in　Devon。　When　I　had　read　a　little　in　these　pages；　I　saw　that　they　were　no　mere　record　of　day…to…day　life；　evidently　finding　himself　unable　to　forego　altogether　the　use　of　the　pen；　the　veteran　had　set　down；　as　humour　bade　him；　a　thought；　a　reminiscence；　a　bit　of　reverie；　a　description　of　his　state　of　mind；　and　so　on；　dating　such　passage　merely　with　the　month　in　which　it　was　written。　Sitting　in　the　room　where　I　had　often　been　his　panion；　I　turned　page　after　page；　and　at　moments　it　was　as　though　my　friend's　voice　sounded　to　me　once　more。　I　saw　his　worn　visage；　grave　or　smiling；　recalled　his　familiar　pose　or　gesture。　But　in　this　written　gossip　he　revealed　himself　more　intimately　than　in　our　conversation　of　the　days　gone　by。　Ryecroft　had　never　erred　by　lack　of　reticence；　as　was　natural　in　a　sensitive　man　who　had　suffered　much；　he　inclined　to　gentle　acquiescence；　shrank　from　argument；　from　self…assertion。　Here　he　spoke　to　me　without　restraint；　and；　when　I　had　read　it　all　through；　I　knew　the　man　better　than　before。

Assuredly；　this　writing　was　not　intended　for　the　public；　and　yet；　in　many　a　passage；　I　seemed　to　perceive　the　literary　purpose……something　more　than　the　turn　of　phrase；　and　so　on；　which　results　from　long　habit　of　position。　Certain　of　his　reminiscences；　in　particular；　Ryecroft　could　hardly　have　troubled　to　write　down　had　he　not；　however　vaguely；　entertained　the　thought　of　putting　them　to　some　use。　I　suspect　that；　in　his　happy　leisure；　there　grew　upon　him　a　desire　to　write　one　more　book；　a　book　which　should　be　written　merely　for　his　own　satisfaction。　Plainly；　it　would　have　been　the　best　he　had　it　in　him　to　do。　But　he　seems　never　to　have　attempted　the　arrangement　of　these　fragmentary　pieces；　and　probably　because　he　co