coal； and with wicked wastefulness。 I am sorry for it； but I cannot on that account make cheerless perhaps the last winter of my life。 There may be waste on domestic hearths； but the wickedness is elsewhere……too blatant to call for indication。 Use mon sense； by all means； in the construction of grates； that more than half the heat of the kindly coal should be blown up the chimney is desired by no one； but hold by the open fire as you hold by whatever else is best in England。 Because； in the course of nature； it will be some day a thing of the past （like most other things that are worth living for）； is that a reason why it should not be enjoyed as long as possible？ Human beings may ere long take their nourishment in the form of pills； the prevision of that happy economy causes me no reproach when I sit down to a joint of meat。
See how friendly together are the fire and the shaded lamp； both have their part alike in the illumining and warming of the room。 As the fire purrs and softly crackles； so does my lamp at intervals utter a little gurgling sound when the oil flows to the wick； and custom has made this a pleasure to me。 Another sound； blending with both； is the gentle ticking of the clock。 I could not endure one of those bustling little clocks which tick like a fever pulse； and are only fit for a stockbroker's office； mine hums very slowly； as though it savoured the minutes no less than I do； and when it strikes； the little voice is silver…sweet； telling me without sadness that another hour of life is reckoned； another of the priceless hours …
〃Quae nobis pereunt et imputantur。〃
After extinguishing the lamp； and when I have reached the door； I always turn to look back； my room is so cosily alluring in the light of the last gleeds； that I do not e