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ITHE WINDOWI‘Yes, of course, if it's fine to-morrow,’ said MrsRamsay. ‘But you’ll have to be up with the lark,’she added.

To her son these words conveyed an extraordinaryjoy, as if it were settled the expedition were boundto take place, and the wonder to which he had lookedforward, for years and years it seemed, was, after anight’s darkness and a day’s sail, within touch. Sincehe belonged, even at the age of six, to that great clanwhich cannot keep this feeling separate from that,but must let future prospects, with their joys andsorrows, cloud what is actually at hand, since to suchpeople even in earliest childhood any turn in thewheel of sensation has the power to crystallize andtransfix the moment upon which its gloom or radi-ance rests, James Ramsay, sitting on the floor cuttingout pictures from the illustrated catalogue of theArmy and Navy Stores, endowed the picture of arefrigerator as his mother spoke with heavenly bliss.It was fringed with joy. The wheelbarrow, the lawn-mower, the sound of poplar trees, leaves whiteningbefore rain, rooks cawing, brooms knocking, dressesrustling—all these were so coloured and distin-guished in his mind that he had already his private3