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235
The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft
·
George Gissing
94
And
all
the
country
round
about.
These
villages,
how
delightful
are
their
names
to
my
ear!
I
find
myself
reading
with
interest
all
the
local
news
in
the
Exeter
paper.
Not
that
I
care
about
the
people;
with
barely
one
or
two
exceptions,
the
people
are
nothing
to
me,
and
the
less
I
see
of
them
the
better
I
am
pleased.
But
the
places
grow
ever
more
dear
to
me.
I
like
to
know
of
anything
that
has
happened
at
Heavitree,
or
Brampford
Speke,
or
Newton
St.
Cyres.
I
begin
to
pride
myself
on
knowing
every
road
and
lane,
every
bridle
path
and
foot-way
for
miles
about.
I
like
to
learn
the
names
of
farms
and
of
fields.
And
all
this
because
here
is
my
abiding
place,
because
I
am
home
for
ever.
It
seems
to
me
that
the
very
clouds
that
pass
above
my
house
are
more
interesting
and
beautiful
than
clouds
elsewhere.
And
to
think
that
at
one
time
I
called
myself
a
socialist,
communist,
anything
you
like
of
the
revolutionary
kind!
Not
for
long,
to
be
sure,
and
I
suspect
that
there
was
always
something
in
me
that
scoffed
when
my
lips
uttered
such
things.
Why,
no
man
living
has
a
more
profound
sense
of
property
than
I;
no
man
ever
lived,
who
was,
in
every
fibre,
more
vehemently
an
individualist.
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