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ternoon； with the thermometer so many degrees below freezing that it will be weeks finding its way up again； but there was no wind； and beautiful sunshine； and I was well wrapped up in furs。 I even had tea brought out there； to the astonishment of the menials； and sat till long after the sun had set； enjoying the frosty air。 I had to drink the tea very quickly； for it showed a strong inclination to begin to freeze。 After the sun had gone down the rooks came home to their nests in the garden with a great fuss and fluttering； and many hesitations and squabbles before they settled on their respective trees。 They flew over my head in hundreds with a mighty swish of wings； and when they had arranged themselves comfortably； an intense hush fell upon the garden； and the house began to look like a Christmas card； with its white roof against the clear； pale green of the western sky； and lamplight shining in the windows。
I had been reading a Life of Luther； lent me by our parson； in the intervals between looking round me and being happy。 He came one day with the book and begged me to read it； having discovered that my interest in Luther was not as living as it ought to be； so I took it out with me into the garden； because the dullest book takes on a certain saving grace if read out of doors； just as bread and butter； devoid of charm in the drawing…room； is ambrosia eaten under a tree。 I read Luther all the afternoon with pauses for refreshing glances at the garden and the sky； and much thankfulness in my heart。 His struggles with devils amazed me ； and I wondered whether such a day as that； full of grace and the forgiveness of sins； never struck him as something to make him relent even towards devils。 He apparently never allowed himself just to be happy。 He was a wonderful man； but I am glad I was not his wife。
Our parson is an interesting person； and untiring in his efforts to improve himself。 Both he and his wife study whenever they have a spare moment； and there is a tradition that she stirs her puddings with one hand and holds a Latin grammar in the other； the grammar； of course； getting the greater share of her attention。 To most German Hausfraus the dinners and the puddings are of paramount importance； and they pride themselves on keeping those parts of their houses that are seen in a state of perpetual and spotless perfection； and this is exceedingly praiseworthy； but； I would humbly inquire； are there not other things even more important？ And is not plain living and high thinking better than the other way about？ And all too careful making of dinners and dusting of furniture takes a terrible amount of precious time； andand with shame I confess that my sympathies are all with the pudding and the grammar。 It cannot be right to be the slave of one's household gods； and I protest that if my furniture ever annoyed me by wanting to be dusted when I wanted to be doing something else； and there was no one to do the dusting for me； I would cast it all into the nearest bonfire and sit and warm my toes at the flames with great contentment； triumphantly selling my dusters to the very next pedlar who was weak enough to buy them。 Parsons' wives have to do the housework and cooking themselves； and are thus not only cooks and housemaids； but if they have children and they always do have childrenthey are head and under nurse as well； and besides these trifling duties have a good deal to do with their fruit and vegetable garden； and everything to do with their poultry。 This being so； is it not pathetic to find a young woman bravely struggling to learn languages and keep up with her husband？ If I were that husband； those puddings would taste sweetest to me that were served with Latin sauce。 They are both severely pious； and are for ever engaged in desperate efforts to practise what they preach； than which； as we all know； nothing is more difficult。 He works in his parish with the most noble self…devotion； and never loses courage； although his efforts have been several times rewarded by disgusting libels pasted up on the street…corners； thrown under doors； and even fastened to his own garden wall。 The peasant hereabouts is past belief low and animal； and a sensitive； intellectual parson among them is really a pearl before swine。 For years he has gone on unflinchingly； filled with the most living faith and hope and charity； and I sometimes wonder whether they are any better now in his parish than they were under his predecessor； a man who smoked and drank beer from Monday morning to Saturday night； never did a stroke of work； and often kept the scanty congregation waiting on Sunday afternoons while he finished his postprandial nap。 It is discouraging enough to make most men give in； and leave the parish to get to heaven or not as it pleases； but he never seems discouraged； and goes on sacrificing the best part of his life to these people when all his tastes are literary； and all his inclinations towards the life of the student。 His convictions drag him out of his little home at all hours to minister to the sick and exhort the wicked； they give him no rest； and never let him feel he has done enough； and when he comes home weary； after a day's wrestling with his parishioners' souls； he is confronted on his doorstep by filthy abuse pasted up on his own front door。 He never speaks of these things； but how shall they be hid？ Everybody here knows everything that happens before the day is over； and what we have for dinner is of far greater general interest than the most astounding political earthquake。 They have a pretty； roomy cottage； and a good bit of ground adjoining the churchyard。 His predecessor used to hang out his washing on the tombstones to dry； but then he was a person entirely lost to all sense of decency； and had finally to be removed； preaching a farewell sermon of a most vituperative description； and hurling invective at the Man of Wrath； who sat up in his box drinking in every word and enjoying himself thoroughly。 The Man of Wrath likes novelty； and such a sermon had never been heard before。 It is spoken of in the village to this day with bated breath and awful joy。
December 22nd。Up to now we have had a beautiful winter。 Clear skies； frost； little wind； and； except for a sharp touch now and then； very few really cold days。 My windows are gay with hyacinths and lilies of the valley； and though； as I have said； I don't admire the smell of hyacinths in the spring when it seems wanting in youth and chastity next to that of other flowers； I am glad enough now to bury my nose in their heavy sweetness。 In December one cannot afford to be fastidious； besides； one is actually less fastidious about everything in the winter。 The keen air braces soul as well as body into robustness； and the food and the perfume disliked in the summer are perfectly welcome then。
I am very busy preparing for Christmas； but have often locked myself up in a room alone； shutting out my unfinished duties； to study the flower catalogues and make my lists of seeds and shrubs and trees for the spring。 It is a fascinating occupation； and acquires an additional charm when you know you ought to be doing something else； that Christmas is at the door； that childre