TO THE LIGHTHOUSEman’s strength and sanity, his feeling for straight-forward simple things, these fishermen, the poor oldcrazed creature in Mucklebackit’s cottage made himfeel so vigorous, so relieved of something that he feltroused and triumphant and could not choke backhis tears. Raising the book a little to hide his face,he let them fall and shook his head from side toside and forgot himself completely (but not one ortwo reflections about morality and French novelsand English novels and Scott’s hands being tied buthis view perhaps being as true as the other view),forgot his own bothers and failures completely inpoor Steenie’s drowning and Mucklebackit's sorrow(that was Scott at his best) and the astonishing de-light and feeling of vigour that it gave him.

Well, let them improve upon that, he thought ashe finished the chapter. He felt that he had beenarguing with somebody, and had got the better ofhim. They could not improve upon that, whateverthey might say; and his own position became moresecure. The lovers were fiddlesticks, he thought,collecting it all in his mind again. That’s fiddlesticks,that’s first-rate, he thought, putting one thing besideanother. But he must read it again. He could notremember the whole shape of the thing. He had tokeep his judgement in suspense. So he returned tothe other thought—if young men did not care for180

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