The Journal of a Disappointed Man

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.