_February 1._

MY VERY DEAR MOTHER,--I have your dear letters of the 26th and 27th;
they do bring new life to me.

Up till now, our first-line emplacement, which this time is in the
village, has been favoured with complete calm, and I have known once
more those hours of grace when Nature consoles me.

My situation has this special improvement, that the drudgery I do now is
done at the instance of the general good, and no longer at the dictation
of mere routine.


_February 2._

DEAR MOTHER,--I go on with this letter in the billet, where the great
worry of accumulated work fills up the void which Melancholy would make
her own.

Dark days have come upon me, and nothingness seems the end of all,
whereas all that is in my being had assured me of the plenitude of the
universe. Yes, devotion, not to individuals but to the social ideal of
brotherhood, sustains me still. Oh, what a magnificent example is to be
found in Jesus and in the poor. That righteous aristocrat, showing by
His abhorrent task the infinite obligation of altruistic duty, and
teaching, above all, that no return of gratitude should be demanded. . . .
To my experience of men and things I owe this tranquillity of
expecting nothing from any one. Thus duty takes an abstract form,
deprived of a human object.