th
their own peculiar value--rare china, some of it, that only needed
dusting. The same walls, too, carried mirrors in which I used sometimes
to see reflected the misty lawns of childhood, the daisy chains, the
wind-torn blossoms scattered through the orchard by warm rains, the
robbers' cave in the long walk, and the hidden store of apples in the
hay-loft. She was my inseparable companion then--but, when the door
slammed, the mirrors cracked across their entire length, and the visions
they held vanished for ever. Now I am quite alone. At forty one cannot
begin all over again to build up careful friendships, and all others are
comparatively worthless.

* * * * *

Oct. 14.--My bedroom is 10 by 10. It is below the level of the front
room, and a step leads down into it. Both rooms are very quiet on calm
nights, for there is no traffic down this forsaken alley-way. In spite
of the occasional larks of the wind, it is a most sheltered strip. At
its upper end, below my windows, all the cats of the neighbourhood
congregate as soon as darkness gathers. They lie undisturbed on the long
ledge of a blind window of the opposite building, for after the postman
has come and gone at 9:30, no footsteps ever dare to interrupt their
sinister conclave, no step but my own, or sometimes the unsteady
footfall of the son who "is somethink on a homnibus."

* * * * *

Oct. 15.--I dined at an "A. B. C." shop on poached eggs and coffee, and
then went for a stroll round the outer edge of Regent's Park. It was ten
o'clock when I got home. I counted no less than thirteen cats, all of a
dark colour, crouching under the lee side of the alley walls. It was a
cold night, and the stars shone like points of ice in a blue-black sky.
The cats turned their heads and stared at me in silence as I passed. An
odd sensation of shyness took possession of me under the glare of so
many pairs of unblinking eyes. As I fumbled with the latch-key they
jumped noiselessly down and pressed against my legs, as if anxious to be
let in. But I slammed the door in their faces and ran quickly upstairs.
The front room, as I entered to grope for the matches, felt as cold as a
stone vault, and the air held an unusual dampness.

* * * * *

Oct. 17.--For several days I have been working on a ponderous article
that allows no play for the fancy. My imagination requires a judicious
rein; I