Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
Share image
1
235
The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft
·
George Gissing
217
XIX.
The
Christmas
bells
drew
me
forth
this
morning.
With
but
half-formed
purpose,
I
walked
through
soft,
hazy
sunshine
towards
the
city,
and
came
into
the
Cathedral
Close,
and,
after
lingering
awhile,
heard
the
first
notes
of
the
organ,
and
so
entered.
I
believe
it
is
more
than
thirty
years
since
I
was
in
an
English
church
on
Christmas
Day.
The
old
time
and
the
old
faces
lived
again
for
me;
I
saw
myself
on
the
far
side
of
the
abyss
of
years--that
self
which
is
not
myself
at
all,
though
I
mark
points
of
kindred
between
the
beings
of
then
and
now.
He
who
in
that
other
world
sat
to
hear
the
Christmas
gospel,
either
heeded
it
not
at
all--rapt
in
his
own
visions--or
listened
only
as
one
in
whose
blood
was
heresy.
He
loved
the
notes
of
the
organ,
but,
even
in
his
childish
mind,
distinguished
clearly
between
the
music
and
its
local
motive.
More
than
that,
he
could
separate
the
melody
of
word
and
of
thought
from
their
dogmatic
significance,
enjoying
the
one
whilst
wholly
rejecting
the
other.
"On
earth
peace,
good-will
to
men"--already
that
line
was
among
the
treasures
of
his
intellect,
but
only,
no
doubt,
because
of
its
rhythm,
its
sonority.
Life,
to
him,
was
a
half-conscious
striving
for
the
harmonic
in
thought
and
speech--and
through
what
a
tumult
of
unmelodious
circumstance
was
he
beginning
to
fight
his
way!
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
