3 a.m.
Through blinding oil and sweat I have seen grey eyes smile and a white hand beckon . In times of trial and sore need I have turned desperately towards that faery glimmer , and never have I come back unencouraged or unrefreshed . Of my friend , too , I think often , as I know he thinks of me . Of our dear old rooms on the Walk ; of our cosy evenings alone ; of our rambles in search of the Perfect Pub -LRB- where , he told me , they sold hot rum up to 3 a.m. -RRB- ; of the Chelsea Freaks , who add so unconsciously to the gaiety of the nations -- how I have laughed incontinently , and how some fireman 's face would brighten when I laughed , though he knew not the reason ! Of books , too , I have many thoughts ; which reminds me that one can not imagine how different are the `` values '' of books , out here at sea , to their values at home in the metropolis . To steal a phrase from chemistry , their `` valency '' alters . Their relative `` combining weights '' seem to vary ; by which I mean , their applicability to life , their vital importance to me as a man , changes .