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235
The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft
·
George Gissing
190
VI.
One
of
the
shining
moments
of
my
day
is
that
when,
having
returned
a
little
weary
from
an
afternoon
walk,
I
exchange
boots
for
slippers,
out-
of-doors
coat
for
easy,
familiar,
shabby
jacket,
and,
in
my
deep,
soft-
elbowed
chair,
await
the
tea-tray.
Perhaps
it
is
while
drinking
tea
that
I
most
of
all
enjoy
the
sense
of
leisure.
In
days
gone
by,
I
could
but
gulp
down
the
refreshment,
hurried,
often
harassed,
by
the
thought
of
the
work
I
had
before
me;
often
I
was
quite
insensible
of
the
aroma,
the
flavour,
of
what
I
drank.
Now,
how
delicious
is
the
soft
yet
penetrating
odour
which
floats
into
my
study,
with
the
appearance
of
the
teapot!
What
solace
in
the
first
cup,
what
deliberate
sipping
of
that
which
follows!
What
a
glow
does
it
bring
after
a
walk
in
chilly
rain!
The
while,
I
look
around
at
my
books
and
pictures,
tasting
the
happiness
of
their
tranquil
possession.
I
cast
an
eye
towards
my
pipe;
perhaps
I
prepare
it,
with
seeming
thoughtfulness,
for
the
reception
of
tobacco.
And
never,
surely,
is
tobacco
more
soothing,
more
suggestive
of
humane
thoughts,
than
when
it
comes
just
after
tea--itself
a
bland
inspirer.
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