That is true: to escape is the greatest of adventures. Still as we approach our own doorstep again, it is comforting to feel the old possessions, the old prejuidices, fold us round; the self, which has been blown about at so many street corners, which has been battered like a moth at the flame of so many inaccessible lanterns, sheltered and enclosed. Here again is the usual door; here the chair turned as we left it and the china bowl and the brown ring on the carpet. And here - let us examine it tenderly, let us touch it with reverence - is the only spoil we have retrieved from all the treasures of the city, a lead pencil