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ins in possession； and that is why； the other day； overcome by the tender influence of the weather； the purely sentimental longing to join hands again with my childhood was enough to send all my pride to the winds； and to start me off without warning and without invitation on my pilgrimage。
I have always had a liking for pilgrimages； and if I had lived in the Middle Ages would have spent most of my time on the way to Rome。 The pilgrims； leaving all their cares at home； the anxieties of their riches or their debts； the wife that worried and the children that disturbed； took only their sins with them； and turning their backs on their obligations； set out with that sole burden； and perhaps a cheerful heart。 How cheerful my heart would have been； starting on a fine morning； with the smell of the spring in my nostrils； fortified by the approval of those left behind； accompanied by the pious blessings of my family； with every step getting farther from the suffocation of daily duties； out into the wide fresh world； out into the glorious free world； so poor； so penitent； and so happy！ My dream； even now； is to walk for weeks with some friend that I love； leisurely wandering from place to place； with no route arranged and no object in view； with liberty to go on all day or to linger all day； as we choose； but the question of luggage； unknown to the simple pilgrim； is one of the rocks on which my plans have been shipwrecked； and the other is the certain censure of relatives； who； not fond of walking themselves； and having no taste for noonday naps under hedges； would be sure to paralyse my plans before they had grown to maturity by the honest horror of their cry； 〃How very unpleasant if you were to meet any one you know！〃 The relative of five hundred years back would simply have said； 〃How holy！〃
My father had the same liking for pilgrimagesindeed； it is evident that I have it from himand he encouraged it in me when I was little； taking me with him on his pious journeys to places he had lived in as a boy。 Often have we been together to the school he was at in Brandenburg； and spent pleasant days wandering about the old town on the edge of one of those lakes that lie in a chain in that wide green plain； and often have we been in Potsdam； where he was quartered as a lieutenant； the Potsdam pilgrimage including hours in the woods around and in the gardens of Sans Souci； with the second volume of Carlyle's Frederick under my father's arm； and often did we spend long summer days at the house in the Mark； at the head of the same blue chain of lakes； where his mother spent her young years； and where； though it belonged to cousins； like everything else that was worth having； we could wander about as we chose； for it was empty； and sit in the deep windows of rooms where there was no furniture； and the painted Venuses and cupids on the ceiling still smiled irrelevantly and stretched their futile wreaths above the emptiness beneath。 And while we sat and rested； my father told me； as my grandmother had a hundred times told him； all that had happened in those rooms in the far…off days when people danced and sang and laughed through life； and nobody seemed ever to be old or sorry。
There was； and still is； an inn within a stone's throw of the great iron gates； with two very old lime trees in front of it； where we used to lunch on our arrival at a little table spread with a red and blue check cloth； the lime blossoms dropping into our soup； and the bees humming in the scented shadows overhead。 I have a picture of the house by my side as I write； done from the lake in old times； with a boat full of ladies in hoops and powder in the foreground； and a youth playing a guitar。 The pilgrimages to this place were those I loved the best。
But the stories my father told me； sometimes odd enough stories to tell a little girl； as we wandered about the echoing rooms； or hung over the stone balustrade and fed the fishes in the lake； or picked the pale dog…roses in the hedges； or lay in the boat in a shady reed…grown bay while he smoked to keep the mosquitoes off； were after all only traditions； imparted to me in small doses from time to time； when his earnest desire not to raise his remarks above the level of dulness supposed to be wholesome for Backfische was neutralised by an impulse to share his thoughts with somebody who would laugh； whereas the place I was bound for on my latest pilgrimage was filled with living； first…hand memories of all the enchanted years that lie between two and eighteen。 How enchanted those years are is made more and more clear to me the older I grow。 There has been nothing in the least like them since； and though I have forgotten most of what happened six months ago； every incident； almost every day of those wonderful long years is perfectly distinct in my memory。
But I had been stiffnecked； proud； unpleasant； altogether cousinly in my behaviour towards the people in possession。 The invitations to revisit the old home had ceased。 The cousins had grown tired of refusals； and had left me alone。 I did not even know who lived in it now； it was so long since I had had any news。 For two days I fought against the strong desire to go there that had suddenly seized me； and assured myself that I would not go； that it would be absurd to go； undignified； sentimental； and silly； that I did not know them and would be in an awkward position； and that I was old enough to know better。 But who can foretell from one hour to the next what a woman will do？ And when does she ever know better？ On the third morning I set out as hopefully as though it were the most natural thing in the world to fall unexpectedly upon hitherto consistently neglected cousins； and expect to be received with open arms。
It was a complicated journey； and lasted several hours。 During the first part； when it was still dark； I glowed with enthusiasm； with the spirit of adventure； with delight at the prospect of so soon seeing the loved place again； and thought with wonder of the long years I had allowed to pass since last I was there。 Of what I should say to the cousins； and of how I should introduce myself into their midst； I did not think at all： the pilgrim spirit was upon me； the unpractical spirit that takes no thought for anything； but simply wanders along enjoying its own emotions。 It was a quiet； sad morning； and there was a thick mist。 By the time I was in the little train on the light railway that passed through the village nearest my old home； I had got over my first enthusiasm； and had entered the stage of critically examining the changes that had been made in the last ten years。 It was so misty that I could see nothing of the familiar country from the carriage windows； only the ghosts of pines in the front row of the forests； but the railway itself was a new departure； unknown in our day； when we used to drive over ten miles of deep； sandy forest roads to and from the station； and although most people would have called it an evident and great improvement； it was an innovation due； no doubt； to the zeal and energy of the reigning cousin； and who was he； thought I； that he should require more conveniences than my father had found needful？ It was no use m