M. 225 “Sebastianus. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force. So many distresses— so many joys coming at the same time are too much for me. Lucy found solace in the lack of sunshine, but the November cold was over the top, even for Illinois. You can think all round me. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it.
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