In the dark

Tuesday, November 9th., Les Sablons.

Today I rose in excellent health, began my last act, and at 5.30 had written one third of it. 

I received a complete bound set of my Tauchnitz works from the Baron. Though ugly, the format was not too ugly to please me. I put the row of twelve volumes in Marguerite's secretaire. Pauline seized "A Great Man" out of the lot, and has been reading it at every spare moment and smiling to herself the whole time. Not to be outdone, I began to read "Buried Alive", and also smiled the whole time. I don't think I have ever read a funnier book than this unless it's Wells's "The History of Mr. Polly".

Dark early of course but I determined to go out for a night walk, and did. I have always enjoyed getting out when it is dark, starting when I was young and needed to get out from under my extensive family. Very different walking here from walking the streets of Burslem. Two ideas came into my mind as I walked. One was to ask the question, "Has any author successfully conveyed the sensation of night walking?" The other was to think about how different the experience of darkness must have been before the advent of artificial lighting. Just imagine at this time of year how people managed with candles, or oil lamps, or just the light from a fire. Did the darkness make them melancholy? Bears thinking about.