Salisbury,
throughout the social house, we have an installation of hot-water
pipes; they may be hygienic (which is doubtful), and they are little
trouble to keep going; but they don't glow. Give me the warmth that
glows, and let me get near the heart of it.

Voices are often raised in Under Town and quarrels are not infrequent,
but the underlying affections are seldom doubted, and when they do rise
to the surface, there they are, visible, unashamed. 'Each for himself,
and devil take the hindmost,' is more admired in theory than followed
in practice. 'Each for himself and the Almighty for us all,' is Tony's
way of putting it. The difference lies there.

My acquaintances here are well off for the necessities of life. No one
is likely to starve next week. Nevertheless, they are full of worry,
and by restraining their expressions of worry so as not to become
intolerable to the other worriers, they make themselves the more lonely
and increase their panic of mind. They are afraid of life.

At Seacombe, though there were not a fortnight's money in the house, we
lived merrily on what we had. In Tony's "Summut 'll sure to turn up if
yu be ready an' tries to oblige" there is more than philosophy; there
is race tradition, the experience of generations. The Fates are
treacherous; therefore, of course, they like to be trusted, and the
gifts they reserve for those that trust them are retrospective.

[Sidenote: _INSTANCES_]

All of us at Tony's wanted many things--a pension, enough to live on,
work, a piano, or only 'jam zide plaate'--God knows what we didn't
want! But the things that men haven't, and want, unite them more than
those they have. _I want_ is life's steam-gauge; the measure of its
energy. It is the ground-bass of love, however transcendentalised, and
whether it give birth to children or ideas. _I have_ is stagnant. And
_I am afraid_ is the beginning of decay.

It is still _I want_, rather than _I am afraid_, that spurs the poor
man on.

2

For his first marriage and towards setting up house, Tony succeeded in
saving twenty shillings. He gave it to his mother in gold to keep
safely for him, and the day before the wedding, he asked for it. "Yu
knows we an't got no bloody sovereigns," said his father. It had all
been spent in food and clothes for the younger children. So Tony went
to sea that night and earned five shillings. A shilling of that too he
gave to his mother; then started off on foot for the village w