Everywhere the effects were felt. The hardy country gentleman now felt chilly. Rugs appeared; beards were grown; trousers were fastened tight under the instep. The chill which he felt in his legs the country gentleman soon transferred to his house; furniture was muffled; walls and tables were covered; nothing was left bare.

Then a change of diet became essential. The muffin was invented and the crumpet. Coffee supplanted the after-dinner port, and, as coffee led to a drawing-room in which to drink it, and a drawing-room to glass cases, and glass cases to artificial flowers, and artificial flowers to mantelpieces, and mantelpieces to pianofortes, and pianofortes to drawing-room ballads, and drawing-room ballads (skipping a stage or two) to innumerable little dogs, mats, and china ornaments.

Outside the house—it was another effect of the damp—ivy grew in unparalleled profusion. What light penetrated to the bedrooms where children were born was naturally of an obfusc green, and what light penetrated to the drawing-rooms where grown men and women lived came through curtains of brown and purple plush.

But Eusebius Chubb shall be our witness to the effect this all had upon the mind of a sensitive man who could do nothing to stop it. There is a passage towards the end of his memoirs where he describes how, after writing thirty-five folio pages one morning ‘all about nothing’ he screwed the lid of his inkpot and went for a turn in his garden.

Soon he found himself involved in the shrubbery. Innumerable leaves creaked

and glistened above his head. He seemed to himself ‘to crush the mould of a million more under his feet’.

Thick smoke exuded from a damp bonfire at the end of the garden. He reflected that no fire on earth could ever hope to consume that vast vegetable encumbrance.

Wherever he looked, vegetation was rampant. Cucumbers ‘came scrolloping across the grass to his feet’. Giant cauliflowers towered deck above deck till they rivalled, to his disordered imagination, the elm trees themselves. Hens laid incessantly eggs of no special tint.

Then, remembering with a sigh his own fecundity and his poor wife Jane, now in the throes of her fifteenth confinement indoors, how, he asked himself, could he blame the fowls?

He looked upwards into the sky. Winter or summer, year in year out, the clouds turned and tumbled, like whales, he pondered, or elephants rather; but no, there was no escaping the simile which was pressed upon him from a thousand airy acres; the whole sky itself as it spread wide above the British Isles was nothing but a vast feather bed; and the undistinguished fecundity of the garden, the bedroom and the henroost was copied there.

He went indoors, wrote the passage quoted above, laid his head in a gas oven, and when they found him later he was past revival.

The sky is clearing and the night
Has cried enough
The sun, he come, the world
to soften up
Rejoice, rejoice, we have no choice but
To carry on

The fortunes of fables are able
To see the stars
Now witness the quickness with which
We carry on
To sing the blues you’ve got to live the dues and
Carry on

Carry on
Love is coming
Love is coming to us all

Where are you going now my love?
Where will you be tomorrow?
Will you bring me happiness?
Will you bring me sorrow?
Are they questions of a thousand dreams
What you do and what you see
Lover can you talk to me?

Girl when I was on my own
Chasing you down
What was it made you run?
Trying your best just to get around.
The questions of a thousand dreams
What you do and what you see
Lover can you talk to me?

Nothing is real but god. Nothing matters but love for god.

To penetrate into the essence of all being and significance and to release the fragrance of that inner attainment for the guidance and benefit of others, by expressing, in the world of forms, truth, love, purity and beauty—this is the sole game which has intrinsic and absolute worth.

For the rich, I am the richest;
For the poor, I am the poorest;
For the literate, I am the most literate;
For the illiterate, I am the most illiterate.
Thus I am one of you, one with you
And one in you, and we are all one.
To have my real darshan is to find me.
The way to find me is to find your abode in me.
And the only one and sure way to find your abode in me Is to love me.

Say this to yourself: I was meant to be happy and to make others happy and I will be happy.

Most specially also, we repent for every action
That has brought ruin to others;
For every word and deed that has given others pain;
And for every wish that pain should befall others.
In your unbounded mercy, we ask you to forgive us, O God

Being fully aware of your absolute independence and your absolute indifference, I implore you, O all-merciful God! to accept my prayer..

This New Life is endless, and even after my physical death it will be kept alive by those who live the life of complete renunciation of falsehood, lies, hatred, anger, greed and lust; and who, to accomplish all this, do no lustful actions, do no harm to anyone, do no backbiting, do not seek material possessions or power, who accept no homage, neither covet honor nor shun disgrace, and fear no one and nothing; by those who rely wholly and solely on God, and who love God purely for the sake of loving; who believe in the lovers of God and in the reality of Manifestation, and yet do not expect any spiritual or material reward; who do not let go the hand of Truth, and who, without being upset by calamities, bravely and wholeheartedly face all hardships with one hundred percent cheerfulness, and give no importance to caste, creed and religious ceremonies.

This New Life will live by itself eternally, even if there is no one to live it.