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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
59
The
wind
rose
and
tapped
the
line
against
the
flag-staff
at
the
Coastguard
Station.
It
roared
through
my
hair
and
past
my
ears
for
an
hour
on
end
till
I
felt
quite
windswept
and
bleak.
On
the
way
home
we
saw
the
wind
darting
hither
and
thither
over
the
long
grass
like
a
lunatic
snake.
The
wind!
Oh!
the
wind--I
have
an
enormous
faith
in
the
curative
properties
of
the
wind.
I
feel
better
already.
October
17.
Staying
in
Surrey.
Exam.
over
and
I
feel
fairly
confident--after
an
agony
for
a
few
days
before
on
account
of
the
development
of
a
cold
which
threatened
to
snatch
the
last
chance
out
of
my
hands.
Justifiable
Mendacity
Sitting
on
a
gate
on
the
N.
Downs
I
saw
a
long
way
below
me
in
the
valley
a
man
standing
in
a
chalk
pit
and
wielding
a
stick
vigorously.
For
some
reason
or
another
the
idea
came
to
me
that
it
would
be
interesting
if
he
were
in
the
act
of
killing
a
Snake--he
so
far
away
below
and
I
above
and
unnoticed
quietly
watching
him.
At
dinner
to-night,
this
revised
version
of
the
story
came
out
quite
pat
and
natural
and
obviously
interested
the
assembly.
I
added
graphically
that
the
man
was
too
far
away
from
me
to
be
able
to
say
what
species
of
Snake
it
was
he
was
killing.
I
possess
the
qualifications
of
an
artistic
liar.
Yet
I
can't
regard
such
a
story
as
a
lie--it
was
rather
a
justifiable
emendation
of
an
otherwise
uninteresting
incident.
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