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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/24134-8.txt b/24134-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b91304a --- /dev/null +++ b/24134-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6148 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mushrooms on the Moor, by Frank Boreham + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Mushrooms on the Moor + + +Author: Frank Boreham + + + +Release Date: January 3, 2008 [eBook #24134] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MUSHROOMS ON THE MOOR*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +MUSHROOMS ON THE MOOR + +by + +F. W. BOREHAM + +Author of + 'Mountains in the Mist,' + 'The Other Side of the Hill,' + 'The Golden Milestone,' + 'The Silver Shadow,' + 'The Luggage of Life,' + 'Faces in the Fire,' etc., etc. + + + + + + + +The Abingdon Press +New York ------ Cincinnati + +First American Edition Printed May, 1919 +Reprinted August, 1919; May, 1920; July 1921 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + +CHAP. + + I. A SLICE OF INFINITY + II. READY-MADE CLOTHES + III. THE HIDDEN GOLD + IV. 'SUCH A LOVELY BITE!' + V. LANDLORD AND TENANT + VI. THE CORNER CUPBOARD + VII. WITH THE WOLVES IN THE WILD + VIII. DICK SUNSHINE + IX. FORTY! + X. A WOMAN'S REASON + + +PART II + + I. THE HANDICAP + II. GOG AND MAGOG + III. MY WARDROBE + IV. 'PITY MY SIMPLICITY!' + V. TUNING FROM THE BASS + VI. A FRUITLESS DEPUTATION + VII. TRAMP! TRAMP! TRAMP! + VIII. THE FIRST MATE + + +PART III + +CHAP. + + I. WHEN THE COWS COME HOME + II. MUSHROOMS ON THE MOOR + III. ONIONS + IV. ON GETTING OVER THINGS + V. NAMING THE BABY + VI. THE MISTRESS OF THE MARGIN + VII. LILY + + + + +BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION + +I have allowed the Mushrooms on the Moor to throw the glamour of their +name over the entire volume because, in some respects, they are the +most typical and representative things in it. They express so little +but suggest so much! What fun we had, in the days of auld lang syne, +when we scoured the dewy fields in search of them! And yet how small a +proportion of our enjoyment the mushrooms themselves represented! Our +flushed cheeks, our prodigious appetites, and our boisterous merriment +told of gains immensely greater than any that our baskets could have +held. What a contrast, for example, between mushrooms from the moor on +the one hand and mushrooms from the market on the other! What memories +of the soft summer mornings; the fresh and fragrant air; the diffused +and misty sunshine; the sparkle of the dew on the tall wisps of +speargrass; the beaded and shining cobwebs; the scamper, barefooted, +across the glittering green! It was part of childhood's wild romance. +And, in the sterner days that have followed those tremendous frolics, +we have learned that life is full of just such suggestive things. As I +glance back upon the years that lie behind me, I find that they have +been almost equally divided between two hemispheres. But I have +discovered that, under any stars, + + There's part o' the sun in an apple; + There's part o' the moon in a rose; + There's part o' the flaming Pleiades + In every leaf that grows. + +And I shall reckon this book no failure if some of the ideas that I +have tried to suggest are found to point at all steadily to that +conclusion. + +FRANK W. BOREHAM. + +HOBART, TASMANIA, + JUNE, 1915. + + + + +PART I + + +I + +A SLICE OF INFINITY + +I + +Really, as I sit here in this quiet study, and glance round at the +books upon the shelves, I can scarcely refrain from laughing at the fun +we have had together. And to think of the way in which they came into +my possession! It seems like a fairy story or a chapter from romance. +If a man wants to spend an hour or so as delightfully as it is possible +to spend it, let him invite to his fireside some old and valued friend, +the companion of many a frolic and the sharer of many a sorrow; let him +seat his old comrade there in the place of honour on the opposite side +of the hearth, and then let them talk. 'Do you remember, Tom, the way +we met for the first time?' 'My word, I do! Shall I ever forget it?' +And Tom slaps his knee at the memory of it, and they enjoy a long and +hearty laugh together. It is not that the circumstances under which +they met were so ludicrous or dramatic; it is that they were so +commonplace. It seems, on looking back, the oddest chance in the world +that first brought them together, the merest whim of chance, the +veriest freak of circumstance; and yet how all life has taken its +colour and drawn its enrichment from that casual meeting! They +happened to enter the same compartment of a railway train; or they sat +next each other on the tramcar; or they walked home together from a +political meeting; or they caught each other admiring the same rose at +a flower show. Neither sought the other; neither felt the slightest +desire for the other; neither knew, until that moment, of the existence +of the other; and yet there it is! They met; and out of that +apparently accidental meeting there has sprung up a friendship that +many changes cannot change, and a love that many waters cannot quench. +Either would cross all the continents and oceans of the world to-day to +find the other; but as they remember how they met for the first time it +seems too queer to be credible. And they lie back in their easy chairs +and laugh again. + + +II + +That is why I laugh at my books. Some day I intend to draw up a list +of them and divide them into classes. In one class I shall put the +books that I bought, once upon a time, because I was given to +understand that they were the right sort of books to have. Everybody +else had them; and my shelves would therefore be scarcely decent +without them. I purchased them, accordingly, and they have stood on +the shelves there ever since. As far as I know they have done nobody +the slightest harm in all their long untroubled lives. Indeed, they +have imparted such an air of gravity, and such an odour of sanctity, to +the establishment as must have had a steadying effect on their less +sombre companions. But it is not at these formidable volumes that I am +laughing. I would not dare. I glance at them with reverential awe, +and am more than half afraid of them. Then, again, there are other +books that I bought because I felt that I needed them. And so I did, +more than perhaps I guessed when I bore them proudly home. Glorious +times I have had with them. I look up at them gratefully and lovingly. +It is not at these that I am laughing. But there are others, old and +trusted friends, that came into my life in the oddest possible way. I +do not mean that I stole them. I mean rather that they stole me. They +seemed to pounce out at me, and before I knew what had happened I +belonged to them: I certainly did not seek them. In some cases I never +heard of their existence until after they became my own. They have +since proved invaluable to me, and I can scarcely review our long +companionship without emotion. Yet when I glance up at them, and +remember the whimsical way in which we met for the first time, I can +scarce restrain my laughter. + + +III + +It was like this. Years ago I went to an auction sale. A library was +being submitted to the hammer. The books were all tied up in lots. +The work had evidently been done by somebody who knew as much about +books as a Hottentot knows about icebergs. John Bunyan was tied +tightly to Nat Gould, and Thomas Carlyle was firmly fastened to Charles +Garvice. I looked round; took a note of the numbers of those lots that +contained books that I wanted, and waited for the auctioneer to get to +business. In due time I became the purchaser of half a dozen lots. I +had bought six books that I wanted, and thirty that I didn't. Now the +question arose: What shall I do with these thirty waifs and strays? I +glanced over them and took pity on them. Many of them dealt with +matters in which I had never taken the slightest interest. But were +they to blame for that? or was I? I saw at once that the fault was +entirely mine, and that these unoffending volumes had absolutely +nothing to be ashamed of. I vowed that I would read the lot, and I +did. From one or two of them I derived as far as I know, no profit at +all. But these were the exceptions. Some of these volumes have been +the delight of my life during all the days of my pilgrimage. And as I +look tenderly up at them, as they stand in their very familiar places +before me, I salute them as the two old comrades saluted each other +across the hearthstone. But I cannot help laughing at the odd manner +of our first acquaintance. It was thus that I learned one of the most +valuable lessons that experience ever taught me. It is sometimes a +fine thing to sample infinity. + + +IV + +When I was a small boy I dreaded the policeman; when I grew older I +feared the bookseller. And as the years go by I find that my dread of +the policeman has quite evaporated, but my fear of the bookseller grows +upon me. I had an idea as a boy that one day a policeman, mistaking my +identity, would snatch me up and hurl me into some horrid little +dungeon, where I might languish for many a long day. But since I have +grown up I have discovered that it is only the bookseller who does that +sort of thing. And in his case he does it deliberately and of malice +aforethought. It is no case of mistaken identity; he knows who you +are, and he knows you are innocent. But he has his dungeon ready. The +bookseller is a very dangerous person, and every member of the +community should guard against his blandishments. It is not that he +will sell you too many books. He will probably not sell you half as +many as are good for you. But he will sell you the wrong books. He +will sell you the books you least need, and keep on his own shelves the +intellectual pabulum for which your soul is starving. And all with a +view to getting you at last into his wretched little dungeon. See how +he goes about it. A friend of yours goes to the West Indies. You +suddenly wake up to the fact that you know very little about that +wonderful region. You go to your bookseller and ask for the latest +reliable work on the West Indies. You buy it, and he, the rascal, +takes a mental note of the fact. Next time you walk into the shop he +is at you like a flash. + +'Good afternoon, sir. You are specially interested, I know, in the +West Indies. We have a very fine thing coming out now in monthly parts +. . .' + +And so on. His attribution to you of special interest in the West +Indies is no empty flattery. The book you bought on your first visit +has charmed you, and you are most deeply and sincerely interested in +those fascinating islands. You order the monthly parts and the +interest deepens. The bookseller does the thing so slyly that you do +not notice that he is boxing you up in the West Indies. He is doing in +sober fact what the policeman did in childish imagination. He is +driving us into a blind alley, and, unless we are very careful, he will +have us cribb'd, cabin'd, and confined before we know where we are. + + +V + +It was my experience in the auction-room that saved me. When I had +read all these books which I should never have bought if I could have +helped it, I discovered the folly of buying books that interest you. +If a book appeals to me at first sight it is probably because I know a +good deal about the subject with which it deals. But, as against that, +see how many subjects there are of which I know nothing at all! And +just look at all these books that have no attraction for me! And tell +me this: Why do they not appeal to me? Only one answer is possible. +They do not appeal to me because I am so grossly, wofully, culpably +ignorant of the subjects whereof they treat. If, therefore, my +bookseller approaches me, with a nice new book under his arm, and +observes coaxingly that he knows I am interested in history, I always +ask him to be good enough to show me the latest work on psychology. If +he reminds me of my fondness for astronomy, I ask him for a handbook of +botany. If he refers to my predilection for agriculture, I inquire if +there is anything new in the way of poetry; and if he politely refers +to my weakness for the West Indies, I ask him to bring me something +dealing with Lapland. The bookseller must be circumvented, defeated, +and crushed at any cost. He is too clever at trapping us in his narrow +little cell. If a man wants to feel that the world is wide, and a good +place to live in, he must be for ever and for ever sampling infinity. +He must shun the books that he dearly wants to buy, and buy the books +he would do anything to shun. + + +VI + +Yes, I bought thirty-six books that day in the auction-room; six that I +wanted and thirty that I didn't. And some of those thirty volumes have +been the charmers of my solitude and the classics of my soul ever +since. I do not advise any man to rush off to the nearest auction mart +and repeat my experiment. We must not gamble with life. Infinity must +be sampled intelligently. But, if a man is to keep himself alive in a +world like this, infinity must be sampled. Like a dog on a country +road I must poke into as many holes as I can. If I am naturally fond +of music, I had better study mining. If I love painting, I shall be +wise to go in for gardening. If I glory in the seaside, I must make a +point of climbing mountains and scouring the bush. If I am attached to +the things just under my nose, I must be careful to read books dealing +with distant lands. If I am deeply interested in contemporary affairs, +I must at once read the records of the days of long ago and explore the +annals of the splendid past. I must be faithful to old friends, but I +must get to know new people and to know them well. If I hold to one +opinion, I must studiously cultivate the acquaintance of men who hold +the opposite view, and investigate the hidden recesses of their minds +with scientific and painstaking diligence. Above all must I be +constantly sampling infinity in matters of faith. If I find that the +Epistles are gaining a commanding influence upon my mind, I must at +once set out to explore the prophets. If I find some special phase of +truth powerfully attracting me, I must, without shunning it, pay +increasing attention to all other aspects. 'The Lord has yet more +truth to break from out His Word!' said John Robinson; and I must try +to find it. Mr. Goodman is a splendid fellow; but he fell in love with +one lonely little truth one day, and now he never thinks or reads or +preaches of any other. It would be his salvation, and the salvation of +his people, if he would set out to climb the peaks that have no +attraction for him. He would find, when he stood on their sunlit +summits, that they too are part of God's great world. He would have +the time of his life if he would only commence to sample infinity. His +people are accustomed to seeing him every now and again in a new suit +of clothes. If he begins to-day to sample infinity, they will next +week experience a fresh sensation. They will see the same suit of +clothes with a new man inside it. + + + + +II + +READY-MADE CLOTHES + +Carlyle, as everybody knows, once wrote a Philosophy of Clothes, and +called it _Sartor Resartus_. He did his work so thoroughly and so +exhaustively and so well that, from that day to this, nobody else has +cared to tackle the theme. It is high time, however, that it was +pointed out that with one important aspect of his tremendous subject he +does not attempt to deal. Surely there ought to have been a chapter on +Ready-made Clothes! + +I am surprised that Henry Drummond never drew attention to the glaring +omission, for, if Drummond hated one thing more than another, he +loathed and detested ready-made clothes. They were his pet aversion. +Ready-made clothes, he used to say, were things that were made to fit +everybody, and they fitted nobody. Men are not made by machinery and +in sizes; and it follows as a natural consequence that clothes that are +so made will not fit men. The man who is an exact duplicate of the +tailor's model has not yet been born. How Carlyle's omission escaped +the censure of Drummond I cannot imagine. It is true that Drummond was +not particularly attracted by Carlyle; he preferred Emerson. I am +certain that if Drummond had read _Sartor Resartus_ at all carefully he +would have exposed the discrepancy, and Carlyle is therefore to be +congratulated on a very narrow escape. + +Drummond's hatred of ready-made clothes is the essential thing about +him. I happened to be lecturing on Drummond the other evening, and I +felt it my duty to point out that Drummond would take his place in +history, not as a scientist nor as an evangelist, nor as a traveller, +nor as an author, but as the uncompromising and relentless assailant of +ready-made clothes. Unless you grasp this, you will never understand +him. He scorned all affectations and imitations. He would adopt no +style of dress simply because it was usual under certain conditions. +'He was,' as an eye-witness of his ordination remarks, 'the last man +whom you could place by the woman's canon of dress. And yet his dress +was a marvel of adaptation to the part he happened to be playing. On +his ordination day, when most men assume a garb severely clerical, he +was dressed like a country squire, thus proclaiming to fathers and +brethren, and to all the world, that he was not going to allow +ordination to play havoc with his chosen career. Now this was typical, +and it is its typical quality that is important. It applied not to +dress alone. It applied to speech. Drummond would affect no style of +address simply on the ground that it was usual upon certain platforms +or in certain rostrums. Did it fit him? Was it simple, natural, easy, +effective? If not, he would not use it. Nor would he adopt a course +of procedure simply because it was customary and was considered +correct. If, to him, it seemed like wearing ready-made clothes, he +would have none of it. Here you have the key to his whole life. +Everything had to fit him like a glove, or he would have nothing to do +with it. His scientific lectures, his evangelistic addresses, his +personal interviews with students, even his public prayers, were +modelled on no regulation standard, on no established precedent; they +were couched in the language, and expressed in the style, that most +perfectly suited his own charming and magnetic individuality. + +Professor James, of Harvard, said of Henri Bergson, the Parisian +philosopher, that his utterance fitted his thought like that elastic +silk underclothing which follows every movement of the skin. Drummond +would have considered that the ideal. Generally speaking, he was +impervious to criticism; but if you had told him that a single phrase +rang hollow, or that some expression had savoured of artificiality, or +that even a gesture appeared like affectation, you would have stabbed +him to the quick. It was a great question in his day as to whether he +was orthodox or heterodox. Drummond regarded all standards of +orthodoxy and of heterodoxy as so many tailors' models. Orthodoxy and +heterodoxy stand related to truth just as those wonderful wickerwork +stands and plaster busts that adorn every dressmaker's establishment +stand related to the grace and beauty of the female form. If you had +asked Drummond to what school of thought he belonged, he would have +told you that he never wore ready-made clothes. + +I tremble lest, one of these days, these notions of mine on the subject +of ready-made clothes should assume the proportions of a sermon, and +demand pulpit utterance. There will at any rate be no difficulty in +providing them with a text. The classical instance of the contemptuous +rejection of ready-made clothing was, of course, David's refusal to +wear Saul's armour. There is a world of significance in that old-world +story. Saul's armour is a very fine thing--_for Saul_! But if David +feels that he can do better work with a sling, then, in the name of all +that is reasonable, give him a sling! If he has to fight Goliath, why +hamper him with ready-made clothes? I began by saying that Carlyle +omitted to deal, in _Sartor Resartus_, with this profound branch of his +subject. But he saw the importance of it for all that. In his +_Frederick the Great_, he tells us how the young prince's iron-handed +father employed a learned university professor to teach the boy +theology. The doctor dosed his youthful pupil with creeds and +catechisms until his brain whirled with meaningless tags and phrases. +And in recording the story Carlyle bursts out upon the dry-as-dust +professor. 'In heaven's name,' he cries, 'teach the boy nothing at +all, or else teach him something that he will know, as long as he +lives, to be eternally and indisputably true!' + +Now what is this fine outburst of thunderous wrath but an emphatic +protest against the use of ready-made clothes? A man's faith should +fit him like the clothes for which he has been most carefully measured, +if not like the elastic silk to which the Harvard professor refers. A +man might as well try to wear his father's clothes as try to wear his +father's faith. It will never really fit him. There is a great +expression near the end of the brief Epistle of Jude that always seems +to me very striking. 'But ye, beloved,' says the writer, 'building up +yourselves on your most holy faith.' That is the only satisfactory way +of building--to build on your own site. If I build my house on another +man's piece of ground, it is sure to cause trouble sooner or later. +Build your own character on your own faith, says the apostle; and there +is sound sense in the injunction. It is better for me to build a very +modest little house of my own on a little bit of land that really +belongs to me than to build a palace on somebody else's soil. It is +better for me to build up my character, very unpretentiously, perhaps, +on my own faith, than to erect a much more imposing structure on +another man's creed. That is the philosophy of ready-made clothes, +disguised under a slight change of metaphor. + +I have heard that some people spend their time in church inspecting +other people's clothes. If that is so, they must be profoundly +impressed by the amazing proportion of misfits. The souls of thousands +are quite obviously clad in ready-made garments. Here is the spirit of +a bright young girl decked out in all the contents of her grandmother's +spiritual wardrobe. The clothes fitted the grandmother perfectly; the +old lady looked charming in them; but the grand-daughter looks +ridiculous. I was once at a testimony meeting. The thing that most +impressed me was the continual repetition of certain phrases. Speaker +after speaker rang the changes on the same stereotyped expressions. I +saw at once that I had fallen among a people who went in for ready-made +clothes. + +The thing takes even more objectionable forms. Those who are half as +fond as I am of Mark Rutherford will have already recalled Frank Palmer +in _Clara Hopgood_. 'He accepted willingly,' we are told, 'the +household conclusions on religion and politics, but they were not +properly his, for he accepted them merely as conclusions and without +the premisses, and it was often even a little annoying to hear him +express some free opinion on religious questions in a way which showed +that it was not a growth, but something picked up.' Everybody who has +read the story remembers the moral tragedy that followed. What else +could you expect? There is always trouble if a man builds his house on +another man's site. The souls of men were never meant to be attired in +ready-made clothes. Somebody has finely said that Truth must be born +again in the secret silence of each individual life. + +For the matter of that, the philosophy of ready-made clothes applies as +much to unbelief as to faith. Now and then one meets a mind distracted +by genuine doubt, and it is refreshing and stimulating to grapple with +its problems. One respects the doubter because the doubt fits him like +the elastic silk; it seems a part and parcel of his personality. But +at other times one can see at a glance that the doubter is all togged +out in ready-made clothes, and, like a bird in borrowed plumes, is +inordinately proud of them. Here are the same old questions, put in +the same old way, and with a certain effrontery that knows nothing of +inner anguish or even deep sincerity. One feels that his visitor has +seen this gaudy mental outfit cheaply displayed at the street corner, +and has snapped it up at once in order to impress you with the gorgeous +spectacle. How often, too, one is made to feel that the blatancy of +the infidel lecturer, or the flippancy of the sceptical debater, is +simply a matter of ready-made clothes. The awful grandeur of the +subjects of which they treat has evidently never appealed to them. +They are merely echoing quibbles that are as old as the hills; they are +wearing clothes that may have fitted Hobbes, Paine, or Voltaire, but +that certainly were not made to fit their more meagre stature. Doubt +is a very human and a very sacred thing, but the doubt that is merely +assumed is, of all affectations, the most repellent. + +If some suspicious reader thinks that I am overestimating the danger of +wearing ready-made clothes, I need only remind him that even such +gigantic humans as James Chalmers, of New Guinea, and Robert Louis +Stevenson feared that ready-made clothes might yet stand between the +Church and her conquest of the world. Some of the missionaries +insisted in clothing the natives of New Guinea in the garb of Old +England, but Chalmers protested, and protested vigorously. 'I am +opposed to it,' he exclaimed. 'My experience is that clothing natives +is nearly as bad as introducing spirits among them. Wherever clothing +has been introduced, the natives are disappearing before various +diseases, especially consumption, and I am fully convinced that the +same will happen in New Guinea. Our civilization, whatever it is, is +unfitted for them in their present state, and no attempt should be made +to force it upon them.' + +With this, Robert Louis Stevenson most cordially concurred. Nobody who +knows him will suspect Stevenson of any lack of gallantry, but he +always eyed the arrival of the missionary's wife with a certain amount +of apprehension. 'The married missionary,' says Stevenson, 'may offer +to the native what he is much in want of--a higher picture of domestic +life; but the woman at the missionary's elbow tends to keep him in +touch with Europe, and out of touch with Polynesia, and threatens to +perpetuate, and even to ingrain, parochial decencies far best +forgotten. The mind of the lady missionary tends to be continually +busied about dress. She can be taught with extreme difficulty to think +any costume decent but that to which she grew accustomed on Clapham +Common; and to gratify her prejudice, the native is put to useless +expense, his mind is tainted with the morbidities of Europe, and his +health is set in danger.' We remember the pride with which poor John +Williams, the martyr missionary of Erromanga, viewed the introduction +of bonnets among the women of Raratonga; but it was not the greatest of +his triumphs after all. The bonnets have vanished long ago, but the +fragrant influence of John Williams abides perpetually. We sometimes +forget that our immaculate tweed trousers and our dainty skirts and +blouses are no essential part of the Christian gospel. As a matter of +fact, that gospel was first revealed to a people who knew nothing of +such trappings. We do not necessarily hasten the millennium by +introducing among untutored races a carnival of ready-made clothes. + +And it is just as certain that you do not bring the soul nearer to its +highest goal by forcing on it a fashion for which it is totally +unsuited. And here I come back to Drummond. During his last illness +at Tunbridge Wells, he remarked that, at the age of twelve, he made a +conscientious study of Bonar's _God's Way of Peace_. 'I fear,' he +said, 'that the book did me more harm than good. I tried to force my +inner experience into the mould represented by that book, and it was +impossible.' In one of Moody's after-meetings in London, Drummond was +dealing with a young girl who was earnestly seeking the Saviour. At +last he startled her by exclaiming, 'You must give up reading James's +_Anxious Enquirer_.' She wondered how he had guessed that she had been +reading it; but he had detected from her conversation that she was +making his own earlier mistake. She was trying to think as John Angell +James thought, to weep as he wept, and to find her way to faith +precisely as he found his. Drummond told her to read nothing but the +New Testament, and, he said later on, 'A fortnight of that put her +right!' + +There lies the whole secret. Our souls no more resemble each other +than our bodies; they are not made in a mould and turned out by the +million. No two are exactly alike. Ready-made clothes will never +exactly fit. Bonar and James, Bunyan and Law, Doddridge and Wesley, +Müller and Spurgeon, may help me amazingly. They may help me by +showing me how they--each for himself--found their way into the +presence of the Eternal and, like Christian at the Palace Beautiful, +were robed and armed for pilgrimage. But if they lead me to suppose +that I must experience their sensations, enjoy their elations, pass +through their depressions, struggle and laugh and weep and sing just as +they did, they have done me serious damage. They have led me away from +those secret chambers in which the King adorns the soul in beautiful +and comely garments, and they have left me a mere wearer of ready-made +clothes. + + + + +III + +THE HIDDEN GOLD + +I was enjoying the very modest but very satisfying pleasures of a ride +in a tramcar when the following adventure befell me. It was a bright, +sunny winter's day; the scenery on either hand was extremely +delightful; and I was cogitating upon the circumstance that so much +felicity could be obtained in return for so small an expenditure. But +my admiration of mountain and river and bush was suddenly and rudely +interrupted. A lady fellow passenger reported that, since entering the +car, three sovereigns had been extracted from her purse. That she had +them when she stepped into the car she knew for certain, for she +remembered seeing them when she opened the purse to pay her fare. She +had taken out the two pennies, inserted the ticket in their place, and +returned the purse to her handbag, which had been lying on the seat +beside her. The inspector had now boarded the car; she had opened her +purse to take out the ticket, and, lo, the gold had gone! It was a +most embarrassing situation. I was ruefully speculating as to how I +should again face my congregation after being shadowed by such a dark +suspicion. When, as abruptly as it had arisen, the mystery happily +cleared. With the most profuse apologies, the lady explained that it +was her birthday; her daughter had that morning presented her with a +new purse; the compartments of this receptacle were more elaborate and +ingenious than she had noticed; and she had found the sovereigns +reposing in a division of the purse which had eluded her previous +observation. There was no more to be said. We wished the poor +beflustered soul many happy returns of the day; she left the car at the +next corner; and I once more abandoned myself to the charms of the +landscape. + +Now, this sort of thing is very common. We are continually fancying +that we have been robbed of the precious things we still possess. The +old lady who searches everywhere for the spectacles that adorn her +temples; the clerk who ransacks the office for the pen behind his ear; +and the boy who charges his brother with the theft of the pen-knife +that lurks in the mysterious depths of his own fearful and wonderful +pocket--these are each of them typical of much. + +I happened the other evening to saunter into a room in which a certain +debating society was holding its weekly meeting. The paper out of +which the discussion arose had been read before my arrival. But I +gathered from the remarks of the speakers that it had dealt with a +scientific subject, and that questions of antiquity, geology, and +evolution were involved. After the fashion of debating societies, the +entire universe was promptly subjected to a complete overhaul. If the +truth must be told, I am afraid that I must confess to having forgotten +the eloquent contentions of the different speakers; but out of the +hurly-burly of that wordy conflict one utterance comes back to me. It +appealed to me at the time as being very curious, very pathetic, and +very striking. It made upon my mind an indelible impression. A tall +young fellow rose, and, in the shortest speech of the debate, imparted +to the discussion the only touch of real feeling by which it was +illumined. I do not know what it was that had struck so deep a chord +in his soul and set it all vibrating. It is wonderful how some stray +sound or sight or scent will sometimes summon to the mind a rush of +sacred memories. After a preliminary platitude or two, this speaker +suddenly referred to the connexion between science and faith. His eyes +flashed with manifest feeling; his whole being took on the tone of a +man in deadly earnest; his voice quivered with emotion. In one vivid +sentence he graphically described his aged grandfather as the old man +donned his spectacles and devoutly read--his faith unclouded by any +shadow of doubt--his morning chapter from the well-worn, large-type +Bible. And then, with a ring of such genuine passion that it sounded +to me like the cry of a creature in pain, he exclaimed, 'And, +gentlemen, I would give both my hands, and give them cheerfully, if I +could believe as my old grandfather believed!' He immediately sat +down. One or two members coughed. I could see from the faces of the +others that they all felt that the debate was getting out of bounds. +The world was wide, and the solar system fairly extensive; but this +speaker had wandered beyond the remotest frontiers of the universe. +And yet to me the utterance to which they had just listened was the +speech of the evening, the one speech to be remembered: '_Gentlemen, I +would give both my hands, and give them cheerfully, if I could believe +as my grandfather believed!_' + +Now this was very pathetic, this pair of eager eyes suddenly turned +inward; this discovery of an empty soul; this comparison with his +grandfather's golden hoard; and this pitiful confession of abject +poverty. I felt sorry for him, just as I felt sorry for the lady in +the tramcar. The lady in the tramcar looked into a purse that she +thought to be empty, and suffered all the agony of a great loss. The +young fellow in the debating society looked into the recesses of his +own spirit, and cried out that there was nothing there. And it was all +a mistake--in both cases. The sovereigns were in the purse after all. +And faith was in the apparently empty soul after all. But neither of +the victims knew that they possessed what they lamented. They were +both exactly like the old lady with the spectacles on her temples, like +the clerk with his pen behind his ear, like the boy with the penknife +in his pocket. In the case of the lady in the car the similitude is +clear enough. I aspire to show that the analogy applies just as surely +to the young fellow and his faith. And to that end let me raise a +cloud of questions as a dog might start a covey of birds. + +Why does this young man sigh for his grandfather's faith? Was his +grandfather's a true faith or a false faith? If his grandfather's +faith was a false faith, why does he himself so passionately covet it? +Does not the very fact that he so earnestly desires his grandfather's +faith as his own faith prove that he is certain that his grandfather's +faith was true? And if, in the very soul of him, he feels that his +grandfather's faith was true, does it not follow that he has already +set his seal to the faith of his grandfather? Is he not proving most +conclusively by his flashing eyes, his fervent manner, and his +quivering voice that he believes most firmly in his grandfather's +faith? And, if that is so, is it not a case of the lady in the tramcar +over again? Is he not crying out that his soul is empty, whilst, in a +secret and unexplored recess of that same soul, there reposes the very +faith for which he cries? + +When I was a very small boy I believed in the Man in the Moon; I +believed in Santa Claus; I believed in old Mother Hubbard; I believed +in the Fairy Godmother; I believed in ghosts and brownies and witches +and trolls. It was a wonderful creed, that creed of my infancy. It +has gone now, and it has gone unwept and unsung. I never catch myself +saying that I would give my two hands, and give them cheerfully, if I +could believe in those things all over again. That puerile faith was a +false faith; and because I now know it to have been fictitious I smile +at it to-day, and never dream of wishing that I still believed in the +Man in the Moon. And, when, on the contrary, I catch a man saying with +wet eyes that he would give both his hands, and give them cheerfully, +if he could believe as his grandfather did, I see before me indubitable +evidence of the fact that, all unconsciously, grandsire and grandson +have both subscribed with fervour to the selfsame stately faith. + +But, to save us from the sin of prosiness, let us indulge in a little +romance. Harry and Edith are lovers; but last evening, in the course +of a stroll by the side of the sea, a dark cloud swept over the golden +tranquillity of their enchantment. They parted at length--not as they +usually do. When poor ruffled little Edith reached her dainty room, +she flung herself in a tempest of tears upon the snowy counterpane, and +sobbed again and again and again, 'I would give anything if I could +love him as I loved him yesterday!' And all the while Harry, with +white and tearless face, and his soul in a tumult of agitation, is +lying back in his chair before the fire, his hands in his pockets, +saying to himself over and over again, 'I would give anything if I +could love her as I loved her yesterday!' Now here are a pair of +fascinating specimens for psychological analysis! Why is Edith so +anxious to love Harry as she loved him yesterday? Why is Harry so +eager to love Edith as he loved her yesterday? You do not passionately +desire to love a person whom you do not love. The secret is out! +Edith sobs to herself, 'I would give anything to love Harry as I loved +him yesterday!' because, being the silly little goose that she is, she +does not recognize that she does love Harry as she loved him yesterday. +And Harry, logical in everything but in love, does not see, as he sits +there muttering, that his very anxiety to love Edith just as he loved +her yesterday is the best proof that he could possibly have that his +love for Edith has undergone no change. Each is peering into a purse +that appears to be empty; each is crying for the gold that seems to +have gone; and each is ignorant of the fact that their wealth is still +with them, but is for a moment eluding their agitated scrutiny. + +The philosophy that the new purse revealed to me is capable of an +infinity of applications. The fact is that faith is always the unknown +dimension. A man may know how many children he has, and how much money +he has; but no man knows how much faith he has. Everybody who has read +Carlyle's _History of Frederick the Great_ remembers the petty +squabbles of Voltaire, Maupertius, and the other thinkers who moved +about the person of that famous prince. They seemed to have been for +ever twitting each other with getting ill, and, notwithstanding their +philosophy, sending for a priest to minister beside their supposed +deathbeds. I have heard sceptics and infidels charged with hypocrisy +on the ground that, in the face of sudden terror, they had been known +to call upon that God whose very existence they denied. I am bound to +say that I do not think the evidence sufficient to substantiate the +charge. There was no hypocrisy, but the sudden discovery of +unsuspected faith. In the tumult of emotion induced by sudden fear, a +secret compartment of the soul was opened, and the faith that was +regarded as lost was found to be tranquilly reposing there. + +Perhaps it was just as well that the lady in the tramcar had this +embarrassing experience. It was good for her to have felt the anguish +of imaginary loss, for it led her to discover that her purse was a more +complicated thing than she had supposed. It will do my friend of the +debating society a world of good to make the same discovery. The soul +is not so simple as it seems. You cannot press a spring at a given +moment, and take in all its contents at one glance. And it was +certainly good for my lady fellow traveller to find that the gold was +still there. She needed it, or its loss would not have thrown her into +such a fever. That is the thing that strikes me about my friend the +debater. He evidently needed the faith for which he cried so +passionately. Faith, like gold, is for use and not for ornament. Yes, +he needed the faith that he could not find; needed it, perhaps, more +sorely than he knew. And now that I have proved to him that, in some +secret recess, the treasure still lurks, I am hopeful that, like the +lady in the car, he will smile at his former anguish, and live like a +lord on the wealth that he has found. + + + + +IV + +'SUCH A LOVELY BITE!' + +It is a keen, clear, frosty winter's night, and I am sitting here in a +cheerfully lighted dining-room only a few feet from a roaring fire. An +immense chasm sometimes yawns between afternoon and evening, and it +seems scarcely credible that, only an hour or two ago, I was out on the +river in an open boat, fishing. It was a glorious sunny afternoon when +we pushed off; the great hills around were at their greenest; and the +only reminder vouchsafed to us that to-morrow is midwinter's day was +the glitter of snow away on the top of the mountain. The water around +us, reflecting the cloudless sky above, was a sea of sapphire, out of +which our oars seemed to beat up pearls and silver. Arrived at our +favourite fishing grounds, we lay quietly at anchor, and for a while +the sport was excellent. But, later on, things quietened down. The +fish forsook us, or became too dainty for our blandishments. The sun +went down over the massive ridges. A hint of evening brooded over us. +The blue died out of the water, and the greenness vanished from the +hills. Everything was grey and cold. As though to match the gloom +around us, we ourselves grew silent. Conversation languished, and +laughter was dead. We turned up the collars of our coats, and grimly +bent over our lines. But the cod and the perch were proof against all +our cajolery, and would not be enticed. At length my hands grew so +cold and numb that I could scarcely feel the line. My enthusiasm sank +with the temperature, and I suggested, not without trepidation, that we +should give it up. My companions assented to the abstract proposition; +but, with that wistful half-expectancy so characteristic of anglers, +did not at once commence to wind up their lines. I was, therefore, +just on the point of setting them an example when one of them exclaimed +excitedly, 'Wait a second; I had _such a lovely bite_!' That was all; +but it gave us a fresh lease of life. For half an hour we forgot the +hardening cold and the deepening gloom, and chatted again as merrily as +when we baited our hooks for the first time. It was a bite; that was +all. But, oh, the thrill of a bite when patience is flagging and +endurance ebbing out! + +It is because of a certain cynical tendency to deride the value of a +bite that I have decided to spend the evening with my pen. 'A bite!' +says somebody, with a fine guffaw. 'And what on earth is the good of a +bite, I should like to know? A bite is neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor +good red herring! A bite is of no use for breakfast, dinner, tea, or +supper! Bites can neither be fried nor boiled, measured nor weighed. +A bite, indeed!'--and once more the cynic loses himself in laughter. +That is all he knows about it, and it merely supplies us with another +evidence of the superficiality of cynicism. The critic is sometimes +right, but the cynic is never right; and the roar of laughter that I +hear from the cynic's chair, as he talks about bites, is, therefore, +rightly translated and interpreted, a kind of thunderous applause. +Why, in some respects, a bite is better than a fish. Only very +occasionally does a fish look as well on the bank or in the boat as it +appeared to the excited imagination of the angler when he first felt +the flutter on the line. I have caught thousands of fish in my time; +but most of them I have dismissed from memory as soon as they went +flapping into the basket. But some of the bites that I have had! I +catch myself wondering now what beauteous monsters they can have been. + +'Well, and how many did you catch?' I am regularly asked on my return. + +'Oh, a couple of dozen or so; but, oh, I had such a bite! . . .' + +And so on. It is the bite that lingers fondly in the memory, that +haunts the fancy for days afterwards, and that rushes back upon the +angler in his dreams. + +'Oh, I've lost him!' one of my companions called out from the other end +of the boat this afternoon. 'He got off the line just after I started +to draw him in; such a lovely bite; I'm sure it was the biggest fish +we've had round here this afternoon!' + +Of course it was! The bite is always the biggest fish. There is +something very charming--something of which the cynic knows nothing at +all--about this propensity of ours to attribute superlative qualities +to the unrealized. It is a species of philosophic chivalry. It is a +courtesy that we extend to the unknown. We do not know whether the +joys that never visited us were really great or small, so we gallantly +allow them the benefit of the doubt. The geese that came waddling over +the hill are geese, all of them, and as geese we write them down; but +the geese that never came over the hill are swans every one, and no +swans that we have fed beside the lake glided hither and thither half +as gracefully. + +A young girl comes to my study. She is tall and comely, and her face +reveals a quiet beauty. But she is dressed in black, and the marks of +a great sorrow are stamped upon her pale, drawn countenance. My heart +goes out to her as she tells her story. It was so entirely unexpected, +so totally unthought of, this sudden loss of her lover. Just as she +was dreaming of orange-blossoms for her own hair, her fingers were +employed upon a wreath of lilies for his bier. As she sat in the +church on that dark and dreadful day, the organ that she fancied +greeting her with a wedding march set all the aisles shuddering to a +dirge. And her unfinished bridal array had all been laid aside that +she might garb her graceful form in gloom. As I looked into her sad +eyes, swollen with weeping, I fancied that I could see into her very +soul, and scan the secret pictures she had painted there. The happy +wedding, with all its nonsense and solemnity, its laughter and its +tears; the pretty little home, with his chair of honour, like a throne, +facing hers; his homecoming evening by evening, and the welcome she +would give him; the children, too--the sons so handsome and the girls +so fair! What art gallery contains paintings so perfect? I saw them +all--these lovely visions hung with crape! And as I saw them, I +reverenced our sweet human habit of attributing impossible glories to +the unrealized. + +And what about the parents of the baby I buried yesterday? Are there +no pictures in these stricken souls worth viewing? As you pass through +these chambers of imagery, and view one of these exquisitely painted +pictures after another, you have the whole splendid career mapped out +before you. Such triumphs, such honours, such laurels for his brow! +The glory of the life that would have been is spread out before their +fancy, sketched in the fairest colours! Thus tenderly do we set a halo +on the forehead of the unrealized! Thus charitably do we let the fancy +play about the fish we never caught! Let the cynic hush his +sacrilegious laughter! There is something about all this that is very +human, and very beautiful. + +And just because it is so beautiful, it is worth analysing, this thrill +of joy that I feel when the fish tugs at my line. I shall try to take +the sensation to pieces, in order that I may find out exactly of what +it consists. I suppose that, really, the secret is: I am pleased to +feel that my bait has some attraction for the fish that I now know to +be there. It is horrid to keep on fishing whilst your mind is haunted +by the suspicion that your hooks are bare, or that they are baited in +such a way that they make no appeal to the fish that may be swarming +around you. The sudden bite settles all that, and you feel every +faculty start up to vigorous life once more. + +Now, as a matter of fact, there are few things more pathetic than the +feeling that sometimes steals over the best of men, that there is +nothing in them to attract the affection, the friendship, and the +confidence of others. The classical instance is the case of Mark +Rutherford. How his lonely soul ached for comradeship! 'I wanted a +friend,' he says. 'How the dream haunted me! It made me restless and +anxious at the sight of every new face, wondering whether at last I had +found that for which I searched as if for the kingdom of heaven. God +knows that I would have stood against a wall and have been shot for any +man whom I loved as cheerfully as I would have gone to bed, but nobody +seemed to wish for such a love or to know what to do with it!' Here is +the poor fisherman, who feels that he has no bait that the fish want. +It was not as though he caught the perch whilst the cod fought shy of +him. 'I was avoided,' he says elsewhere, 'both by the commonplace and +by those who had talent. Commonplace persons avoided me because I did +not chatter, and persons of talent because I stood for nothing--_there +was nothing in me_!' But, just as he was giving up, Mark Rutherford +felt the line tremble, and knew the ecstasy of a bite! He was suddenly +befriended. 'Oh, the transport of it!' he exclaims. 'It was as if +water had been poured on a burnt hand, or some miraculous Messiah had +soothed the delirium of a fever-stricken sufferer, and replaced his +visions of torment with dreams of Paradise.' The world holds more of +this sort of thing than we think. A writer who cannot get readers, a +preacher who cannot get hearers, a tradesman who cannot get +customers--it is the same old trouble. Fishing, fishing, fishing, +until the whole head is sick and the whole heart faint. Fishing, +fishing, fishing, until the whole world seems to be pouring its +contempt upon the unhappy fisherman. Fishing, fishing, fishing, until +a man feels that there is nothing in him, nothing in him, _nothing in +him_; and the contempt of his fellows leads to the anguish and hollow +laughter of self-derision. Oh, what a bite means at such an hour! +'Blessed are they,' exclaims poor Mark Rutherford, 'who heal us of our +self-despisings! Of all services which can be done to man, I know of +none more precious.' + +But even a bite may do a man a great deal of harm unless he thinks it +out very carefully. It is certainly very annoying, after waiting so +long, to feel that the fish has come--and gone again! A fisherman must +guard against being soured and embittered just at that point. It was +the tragedy of Miss Havisham. Everybody who has read _Great +Expectations_ remembers Miss Havisham. In some respects she is +Dickens' most striking and dramatic character. Poor Miss Havisham had +been disappointed on her wedding-day; and, in revenge, she remained for +the rest of her life dressed just as she was dressed when the blow +staggered her. When Pip came upon her, years afterwards, she was still +wearing her faded wedding-dress. She still had the withered flowers in +her hair, although her hair was whiter than the dress itself. For the +dress was yellow with age, and everything she wore had long since lost +its lustre. 'I saw, too,' says Pip, 'that the bride within the +bridal-dress had withered like the dress, and like the flowers, and had +no brightness left but the brightness of her sunken eyes. I saw that +the dress had been put upon the rounded figure of a young woman, and +that the figure, upon which it now hung loose, had shrunk to skin and +bone. Once I had been taken to see some ghastly waxwork at the Fair, +representing I know not what impossible personage lying in state. Once +I had been taken to one of our old marsh churches to see a skeleton in +the ashes of a rich dress that had been dug out of a vault under the +church pavement. Now, waxwork and skeleton seemed to have dark eyes +that moved and looked at me.' Poor Pip! And poor Miss Havisham! Miss +Havisham had lost her fish just as she was in the very act of landing +him. And she had let it sour and spoil her, and Pip was frightened at +the havoc it had wrought. + +The peril touches life at every point. It especially affects those of +us who are called to be fishers of men. It is a great art, this human +angling, and needs infinite tact, and infinite subtilty, and infinite +patience. And, above all, it needs a resolute determination never on +any account whatever to be soured by disappointment. When I am tempted +to wind up my line, and give the whole thing up in despair, I revive my +flagging enthusiasm by recalling the rapture of my earlier catches. +What angler ever forgets the wild transport of landing his first +salmon? What minister ever forgets the spot on which he knelt with his +first convert? In the long and tedious hours when the waiting is +weary, and the nibblings vexatious, and the bites disappointing, let +him live on these wealthy memories as the bees live in the winter on +the honey that they gathered in the summer-time. Yes, let him think +about those unforgettable triumphs, and let him talk about them. They +make great talking. And as he recalls and recites the thrilling story, +the leaden moments will simply fly, the old glow will steal back into +his fainting soul, and, long before he has finished his tale, he will +find his fingers busy with another glorious prize. + + + + +V + +LANDLORD AND TENANT + +I heard a capital story the other evening under the most astonishing +circumstances. It was at a public meeting connected with a religious +conference. A certain minister rose to address us. We knew from past +experience that we should have a most suggestive and stimulating +address. But, somehow, it did not occur to us that we should be +favoured with a story. And when this grave and sedate member of our +assembly suddenly launched out into the intricacies of his tale, it was +as great a surprise as though the haildrops turned out to be diamonds, +or Vesuvius had begun to pour forth gold. Before we knew what had +happened, we were electrified by the story of a man who dwelt in a very +comfortable house, with a large, light, airy cellar. The river ran +near by. One day the river overflowed, the cellar was flooded, and all +the hens that he kept in it were drowned. The next day he bounced off +to see the landlord. + +'I have come,' he said, 'to give you notice. I wish to leave the +house.' + +'How is that?' asked the astonished landlord. 'I thought you liked it +so much. It is a very comfortable, well-built house, and cheap.' + +'Oh, yes,' the tenant replied, 'but the river has overflowed into my +cellar, and all my hens are drowned.' + +'Oh, don't let that make you give up the house,' the landlord reasoned; +'try ducks!' + +I entirely forget--I most fervently hope that my friend will never see +this lamentable confession of mine!--I entirely forget what he made of +this delightful story. But, looking back on it now, I can see quite +clearly that half the philosophy of life is wrapped up in its delicious +folds. It raises the question at the very outset as to how far I am +under any obligation to endure the slings and arrows of outrageous +fortune. The river has flooded my cellar and drowned all my hens. +Very well. Now two courses are open to me. Shall I grin and bear it? +or shall I make a change? I must remember that it is very nice living +on the banks of the river. There is the boat-house at the foot of the +garden. What delightful hours we have spent gliding up and down the +bends and reaches of the tranquil stream, watching the reflections in +the water, and picnicking under the willows on its grassy banks! How +the children love to come down here and feed the swans as the graceful +creatures glide proudly hither and thither, seeming to be conscious +that their beauty richly deserves all the homage that is paid to it! +The fishing, too! The whirr of the line, and the bend of the rod, and +the splash of the trout; why, there was more concentrated excitement in +some of those tremendous moments than in all the politics and battles +since the world began! And the bathing! On those hot summer days when +the very air seemed to scorch the skin, how exquisite those swirling +waters seemed! Am I to give up all this enjoyment because, once in +five years perhaps, the swollen stream floods my cellar and drowns my +hens? That is the question, and it is a live question too. + +Now the trouble is a little deeper than appears on the surface. For if +I persuade myself that it is my duty to bounce off down to the owner of +the house and give him notice to quit, I shall soon find myself +spending a considerable proportion of my time in waiting upon my +landlords. In the next house to which I go I shall not only miss the +boating and fishing and bathing, but I shall within six months discover +other disadvantages quite as grave as the occasional flooding of my +riverside cellar. And then I shall have to move again. And moving +will become a habit with me. And, on the whole, it is a bad habit. It +may be good for the hens; but there are other things to be considered +besides hens. The solar system is not kept in operation solely for the +benefit of the hens in the cellar. There are the children, and, with +all respect for the fowl-yard, children are as much worthy of +consideration as chickens. It is not good for children to be +everlastingly moving. It is good for them to have sacred and beautiful +memories of the home of their childhood. It is good for them to feed +the swans, and play under the willows, year in and year out, and to +retain the swans and the willows as part of the background with which +memory will always paint the picture of their infancy. It is good for +children to feel a certain fixity and stability about home and school +and friends. + +George Gissing pathetically tells how the spirit of dereliction stole +into the life of Godwin Peak. It was all owing to the family +gipsyings. 'As a result of the family's removal first from London to +the farm, and then into Twybridge, Godwin had no friends of old +standing. A boy reaps advantage from the half-parental kindness of men +and women who have watched his growth from infancy; in general it +affects him as a steadying influence, keeping before his mind the +social bonds to which his behaviour owes allegiance. Godwin had no +ties which bound him strongly to any district.' He was like a ship +that belongs to no port in particular, and that drifts hither and +thither about the world as fugitive commissions may arise. + +The finest of all the fine arts is the art of putting up with nasty +things. It is not very nice to have all your hens drowned. You get +fond of hens. And apart from the financial loss involved, there is a +sense of bereavement in seeing all your choice Dorkings, your favourite +Leghorns, your lovely Orpingtons, or your beautiful Silver Wyandottes +all lying dead and bedraggled in the muddy cellar. Few things are more +disconcerting. And yet I am writing this article for no other purpose +than to assert that the best thing to do, if you must have hens, is to +bury these as quickly as possible and send down to the market for a +fresh supply. It is certainly gratifying to one's pride as a tenant to +feel that one has a grievance and can now show his glorious +independence of the landlord. There is always a pleasurable piquancy +in being able to resign, or dismiss somebody, or give notice. But my +interest is every bit as well worth considering as my dignity. And +whilst my dignity clamours to get even with the landlord, my interest +reminds me of the swans and the willows, the boating and the fishing. +My dignity shouts angrily about my dead fens; but my interest whispers +significantly about my living children. So that, all things +considered, it is better to bury the hens and the hatchet at the same +time. I may quit my riverside residence and have a waterproof fowl-run +in another street; but when I see somebody else taking his children out +in my old boat, I shall only bite my lip and wish that I had quietly +restocked my chicken-run. It may be a most iniquitous proceeding on +the part of the landlord to allow the river to flood my cellar but, +thinking it over calmly, I am convinced that it is my duty as a +Christian to forgive him. And it always pays a man to do his duty. + +I had thought of devoting a paragraph to ministers and deacons. But +perhaps I had better not. These matters are very intricate and very +delicate, and need a tenderer touch than mine. Things will sometimes +go wrong. The river will rise. The cellar gets flooded, and the hens +get drowned. But, really, I am certain that, nine times out of ten, +perhaps ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it is better to bury the +poor birds quietly and say no more about it. I don't know quite how to +apply this parable. I was afraid I should get out of my depth if I +ventured into such matters. But suppose that the minister finds some +morning that his cellar is flooded and his pet birds drowned. Of +course, it is pleasant to send in your resignation and say that you +will not stand it. And yet, and yet--rivers will rise; it is a way +that rivers have; and the Church Secretary, when he receives the +resignation, feels as helpless as the landlord. And has the minister +any guarantee that the next river on the banks of which he builds his +nest will never rise? And, even if he is certain of perfection in the +fields to which he flies, is he quite justified in avenging his dead +hens by imperilling his living children and his living church? + +Or perhaps I have misinterpreted the story. I am really very nervous +about it, and feel that I have plunged into things too high for me. +Perhaps the minister is the landlord. It is through his wickedness +that the river has risen and drowned some of the Church's best hens, or +at least ruffled the fine feathers of some of the Church's best birds. +It is the easiest thing in the world to give him notice to quit. And +it accords magnificently with the dignity of the situation. But are we +quite sure that the poor minister made the river rise? That is the +question the tenant ought to consider. Was it the landlord's fault? I +repeat that rivers will rise at times, generally at storm times. The +Nile and the Tigris used to rise in prehistoric times. It is a way +rivers have. I really think that it will be as well to say no more +about it. Try to smooth down the ruffled feathers and forget. It may +not have been his fault; and, anyhow, we shall be saying good-bye to a +good many delightful experiences if we part company. + +And, really, when you think it over quietly, there seems to be a great +deal in the landlord's suggestion: 'Try ducks!' Of course, ducks are +the very thing for a riverside dwelling. Every change, however small, +should be dictated by reason and not by caprice. This was the +essential difference between the stupid tenant and the wise landlord. +The tenant said, 'I will make a _fundamental_ change, and I will make +it _capriciously_--I will leave the house!' The landlord said, 'Why +not make an _incidental_ change, and make it _reasonably_? Try ducks!' +I have in my time seen great numbers of people, among all kinds and +conditions of men, throw up their riverside dwellings in high dudgeon +because their hens were drowned in the cellar. But among my saddest +letters I find some from those who tell me how they miss the swans and +the boat-house, the trout and the willows, and how sincerely they wish +now that they had tried ducks. But it is too late; the flashing stream +is the paradise of other tenants; and the children's most romantic +memory of childhood twines itself about the fun of getting the piano +and the dining-room table in and out of the different doors. We may +easily form a stupid habit of giving the landlord notice whenever the +river happens to rise; and we forget that it is from just such +movements--such goings and such stayings--that life as a whole takes +its tint and colour. Destiny is made of trifles. Our weal and our woe +are determined by comparatively insignificant issues. Somebody has +finely said that we make our decisions, and then our decisions turn +round and make us. + +Now let nobody suppose that I am deprecating a change. On the +contrary, I am advocating a change. It will never do to let the fowls +drown, and to take no steps to prevent a recurrence of any such +disaster. I hold no brief for stagnation. I am merely insisting that +the change must commend itself to heart and conscience and reason. It +must be a forward move. Look at this, for example. It is from +Stanley's _Life of Arnold_: 'We are all in the midst of confusion,' +Arnold writes from Laleham, 'the books all packed and half the +furniture; and on Tuesday, if God will, we shall leave this dear place, +this nine-years' home of such exceeding happiness. But it boots not to +look backwards. Forward, forward, _forward_, should be one's motto.' +And thus Arnold moved to Rugby, and made history! There are times when +the landlord's gate is the high-road to glory. + +The whole matter is capable of the widest application, and must be +scientifically treated. Man is always finding his fowls drowned in the +cellar and going the wrong way to put things right. Generally +speaking, it must be confessed that he is too fond of rushing off to +the landlord. In his _Travels in Russia_, Theophile Gautier has a +striking word concerning this perilous proclivity. 'Whatever is of +real use to man,' he says, 'was invented from the beginning of the +world, and all the people who have come along since have worn their +brains out to find something new, but have made no improvements. +_Change is far from being progress_; it is not yet proved that steamers +are better than sailing-vessels, or railways than horse traffic. For +my part, I believe that men will end in returning to the old methods, +which are always the best.' I do not agree with the first part of +Gautier's statement. It is not likely. But when he says that we are +getting back to our starting-point, his contention is indisputable. In +the beginning, man was alone with his earth; and all that he did, he +did in the sweat of his brow. Then came the craze for machinery, and +the world became a network of wires and a wilderness of whirling +wheels. But we are beginning to recognize that it has been a +ridiculous mistake. The thing is too clumsy and too complicated. Mr. +Marconi has already taught us to feel half ashamed of the wires. And +Mr. H. G. Wells predicts that in forty years' time all the activities +of a larger and busier world will be driven by invisible currents of +power, and the whole of our industrial machinery will have gone to the +scrap-heap. Man will find himself once more alone with his world, but +it will be a world that has taken him into its confidence and revealed +to him its wonderful secrets. He will look back with a smile on the +age of screaming syrens and snorting engines, of racing pistons and +whirling wheels. He will be amazed at his own earlier readiness to +resort to such a cumbrous and complicated system when a smaller +transition would have ushered him into his kingdom. + +The whole drift of our modern scientific development is away from our +clinking mechanical complexities and back towards the great primal +simplicities. We have been too fond of the drastic and dramatic +course, too fond of bouncing off to the landlord. We are too apt to +involve ourselves in a big move when we might have gained our point by +simply trying ducks. We love the things that are burdensome, the ways +that are involved, the paths that lead to headache and heartache. It +is a very ancient and very human tendency. Paul wrote the Epistle to +the Galatians to reprove in them the same sad blunder. 'O foolish +Galatians, who hath bewitched you?' They had abandoned the +simplicities under the lure of the complexities. The Church that was +urged by her Lord to return to her first love had made the same +mistake. We are too prone to scorn the simple and the obvious. We +forsake the fountain of living water, and hew out to ourselves clumsy +cisterns. We neglect the majestic simplicities of the gospel, and +involve our tired brains and hungry hearts in tortuous systems that +lead us a long, long way from home. The landlord is right. The +simplest course is almost always the safest. + + + + +VI + +THE CORNER CUPBOARD + +Is there a case on record of a really unsuccessful search? I doubt it. +I believe it to be positively and literally true that he that seeketh, +findeth. I do not mean that a man will always find what he seeks. I +do not know that the promise implies that. I fancy it covers a far +wider range, and embraces a much ampler truth. Yes, I doubt if any man +ever yet sought without finding. When I was a boy I lost my peg-top. +It was a somewhat expensive one, owing partly to the fact that it would +really spin. I noticed this peculiarity about it whilst it was still +the property of its previous possessor. I had several tops; indeed, my +pockets bulged out with my ample store, but none of them would spin. +After pointing out to the owner of the coveted top the frightful +unsightliness of his treasure, and in other ways seeking to lower the +price likely to be demanded as soon as negotiations opened, I at length +secured the top in return for six marbles, a redoubtable horse +chestnut, and a knife with a broken blade. My subsequent alarm, on +missing so costly a possession, can be readily imagined. I could not +be expected to endure so serious a deprivation without making a +desperate effort to retrieve my fallen fortunes. I therefore +proclaimed to all and sundry my inflexible determination to ransack the +house from the top brick of the chimney to the darkest recesses of the +cellar in quest of my vanished treasure. I began with a queer old +triangular cupboard that occupied one corner of the kitchen. And in +the deepest and dustiest corner of the top shelf of that cavernous old +cupboard, what should I find but the cricket ball that I had lost the +previous summer? My excitement was so great that I almost fell off the +table on which I was standing. As soon as the flicker of my candle +fell on the ball I distinctly remembered putting it there. I argued +that it was the only place in the house that I could reach, and that my +brother couldn't, and consequently the only place in the house that was +really safe. The fact that the ball had remained there, untouched, all +through the cricket season abundantly demonstrated the justice of my +conclusion. My jubilation was so exuberant that it drove all thought +of the peg-top out of my mind. There is such a thing as the expulsive +power of an old affection as well as the expulsive power of a new +affection. My delight over my new-found cricket ball entirely +dispelled my grief over my missing peg-top. Indeed, I am not sure to +this day whether I ever saw that peg-top again. I may have +inadvertently deposited it on a shelf that my brother could reach; but +after the lapse of so many years I will endeavour to harbour no dark +suspicions. In any case, it does not matter. What is a paltry peg-top +compared with a half-guinea cricket ball? I had sought, and I had +found. I had not found what I had sought, nor had I sought what I had +found. Perhaps if I had continued my search for the peg-top with the +enthusiasm and assiduity with which I had lugged the kitchen table up +to the corner cupboard, I should have found it. Perhaps if I had +searched for the cricket ball with the same zest that marked my quest +of the peg-top, I should have found it. But that is not my point. My +point is the point with which I set out. I do not believe that a case +of a really unsuccessful search has ever been recorded. He that +seeketh, findeth, depend upon it. + +The days of the peg-top and the cricket ball seem a long way behind me +now, and I am glad that the fate of the queer old corner cupboard has +been mercifully hidden from my eyes. But, by sea and land, the +principle that I first discovered when I stood on tiptoe on the kitchen +table has followed me all down the years. The secret that I learned +that day has acted like a talisman, and has turned every spot that I +have visited into an enchanted ground. Even my study table is not +immune from its magic spell. A more prosaic spectacle never met the +eye. The desk, the pigeon-holes, the drawers, and the piles of papers +might have to do with a foundry or a fish-market, so very unromantic do +they appear. And yet, what times I have whenever I manage to lose +something! It is almost worth while losing something just for the fun +of looking for it! If a catalogue or a circular will only go astray, +all the excitements of a chase lie open before me. And the things that +I shall find! I shall come on letters that will make me laugh and +letters that will make me cry. Hullo, what's this? Dear me, I must +write to so-and-so, or he will think I have forgotten him! And just +look here! I must run round and see what's-his-name this afternoon, +and fix this matter up. And so I go on. The probability is that I +shall no more find the catalogue that set me searching than I found the +peg-top in the days of auld lang syne; but what has that to do with it? +Look at the things I have found, the memories I have revived, the tasks +that have been suggested! Life has been incalculably enriched by the +fruits of this search through the papers on my study table. If I do +not find the peg-top-papers for which I sought, I have found +cricket-ball-papers immensely more valuable, and the rapture of my +sensational discoveries renders the fate of my poor peg-top-papers a +matter of comparative indifference. The series of thrills produced by +such a search is reminiscent of the emotions with which I enjoyed my +first magic-lantern entertainment. On they came, one after another, +those wonderful, wonderful pictures in the darkness. On they came, one +after another, these startling surprises from out these musty-fusty +piles of papers. A search is really a marvellous experience. The +imagination flies with lightning rapidity from one world of things to +another and another as the papers rustle between the fingers. John +Ploughman used to say that, even if the fowls got nothing by it, it did +them good to scratch. I am not a poultry expert, as I am frequently +reminded, but I dare say that there is a wealth of wisdom in the +observation. At any rate, I know that, in my own case, the success or +failure of my search expeditions stand in no way related to the +original object of my quest. I never remember having set out to look +for a thing, and afterwards regretted having done so. + +I was wondering the other day if the same principle applied to other +people, and I cruelly determined on a little experiment. My girls +collect orchids, and much of their time in the city is spent in +recounting the foraging expeditions that they have conducted in happy +days gone by, and in anticipating similar adventures in the golden +times before them. Some of the pleasantest holidays that we have +enjoyed together have been spent away in the heart of the bush where +Nature runs riot and revels in undisturbed profusion. It is delightful +to see them come traipsing along the track through the bush, their +faces flushed with the excitement of their foray, and their arms filled +with the booty they have gathered. They are tired, evidently, but not +too tired to run when they catch sight of us. 'Look at this!' cries +one; and 'Isn't that a pretty colour?' asks the other. 'Did you ever +see one that shape before?' 'Fancy finding one of these!' And so on. +And then the evening is spent in pressing and classifying the treasures +they have gathered. + +One day they came back, earlier than usual, and showed us their +discoveries. + +'But, oh, father, it was an awful shame! You know that kind that Ella +Simpson showed us once, and told us they were very rare? Well, we +found one of those, a real beauty, away over in that valley beyond the +sandhills; and on the way home we lost it. Wasn't it a pity?' + +'Do you mean the little pale blue one, with the orange fringe?' I +inquired. + +'Yes, and it was just in full flower, and ready for picking.' + +'It was a pity,' I confessed, 'for, do you know I specially want one of +those. Do you think you could go back and try hard to find one?' + +They agreed. I advised them to search with the greatest care, and to +poke into places that they had not disturbed before. They returned an +hour later with no further specimen of the blue and orange variety, +although on a subsequent date they succeeded in unearthing one, but +they were rejoicing over a number of very rare specimens that are now +considered among the most valuable in their collection. + +In _It is Never Too Late to Mend_, Charles Reade has a story that is +right into our hands just here. 'Once upon a time,' he makes one of +his characters say, 'once upon a time there was an old chap who had +heard about treasure being found in odd places, a pot full of guineas +or something; and it took root in his heart. One morning he comes down +and says to his wife, "It is all right, old woman; I've found the +treasure!" "No, have you, though?" says she. "Yes," says he; +"leastways, it is as good as found; it is only waiting till I've had my +breakfast, and then I'll go out and fetch it in!" "La, John, but how +did you find it!" "It was revealed to me in a dream," says John, as +grave as a judge; "it is under a tree in the orchard." After breakfast +they went to the plantation, but John could not again recognize the +tree. "Drat your stupid old head," cried his wife, "why didn't you put +a nick on the right one at the time?" But John was not to be beaten. +He resolved to dig under every tree. How the neighbours laughed! But +springtime came. Out burst the trees. "Wife," says he, "our bloom is +richer than I have known it this many a year; it is richer than our +neighbours'!" Bloom dies, and then out come about a million little +green things quite hard. In the autumn the old trees were staggering, +and the branches down to the ground with the crop; and so the next +year, and the next; sometimes more, sometimes less, according to the +year. The trees were old, and wanted a change. His letting in the air +to them, and turning the subsoil up to the frost and sun, had renewed +their youth.' And so poor John found his treasure. It was not exactly +the pot of guineas that he sought; but it was just as valuable, and +probably afforded him a deeper gratification. He did not find what he +sought, but who shall say that his search was unsuccessful? He that +seeketh, findeth. There is no case on record of a really fruitless +search. + +Mr. Gilbert West and Lord Lyttelton once undertook to organize a +campaign to expose the fictitious character of the biblical narrative. +In order to make their attack the more damaging and the more effective +they agreed to specialize. Mr. West promised to study thoroughly the +story of the Resurrection of Jesus. Lord Lyttelton selected as the +point of his assault the record of the conversion of Paul. They +separated; and each began a careful and exhaustive search for +inaccuracies, incongruities, and contradictions in the documents. They +were engaged in exposing error, they said, and in searching after +truth. Yes, they were searching after truth, and they sought with +earnestness and sincerity. They were searching after truth, and they +found it. For when, at the appointed time, they met to arrange the +details of their projected campaign, each had to confess to the other +that he had become convinced of the authenticity of the records and had +yielded to the claims of Christ! Here was a search! Here was a find! +They sought what they never found, and they found what they never +sought. Was the search unsuccessful? Seekers after truth, they +called themselves; and did they not find the Truth? Like the Magi, +they followed a star in the firmament with which they were familiar. +But, to their amazement, the star led them to the Saviour, and neither +of them ever regretted participating in so astonishing a quest. + +'And thus,' as Oliver Cromwell finely says, 'to be a seeker is to be of +the best sect next to a finder, and such an one shall every faithful +humble seeker be at the end.' It always seems to me that the old +Puritan's lovely letter to his daughter, the letter from which I have +just quoted, is the gem of Carlyle's great volume. Bridget was +twenty-two at the time. 'Your sister,' her father tells her, 'is +exercised with some perplexed thoughts. She sees her own vanity and +carnal mind, and, bewailing it, she seeks after what will satisfy. And +thus to be a seeker is to be of the best sect next to a finder, and +such an one shall every faithful humble seeker be at the end. Happy +seeker; happy finder! Dear heart, press on! Let not husband, let not +anything, cool thy affections after Christ!' + +With which strong, tender, fatherly words from an old soldier to his +young daughter we may very well take leave of the subject. 'Happy +seeker; happy finder! Dear heart, press on!' Oliver Cromwell knew +that there is no such thing as a fruitless search. If we do not come +upon our shining treasure in the exact form that our ignorance had +fancied, we discover it after a similitude that a much higher wisdom +has ordained. But the point is that we do find it. That was the +lesson that I learned as I peered into the abysmal darkness of the +mysterious old cupboard in my childhood, and the longer I live the more +certain I become of its truth. + + + + +VII + +WITH THE WOLVES IN THE WILD + +I + +I like to think that Jesus spent forty nights of His wondrous life out +in the Wild with the wolves. 'He was with the wild beasts,' Mark tells +us, and the statement is not recorded for nothing. Night is the great +leveller. Desert and prairie are indistinguishable in the night. +Night folds everything in sable robes, and the loveliest landscape is +one with the dreariest prospect. North and South, East and West, are +all alike in the night. Here is the Wild of the West. 'A vast silence +reigned,' Jack London tells us. 'The land itself was a desolation, +lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was +not even that of sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter--the +masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the +futility of life and the effort of life. It was the Wild--the savage, +frozen-hearted Northern Wild!' Here, I say, is the Wild. And here is +the life of the Wild: 'Bill opened his mouth to speak, but changed his +mind. Instead, he pointed towards the wall of darkness that pressed +about them from every side. There was no suggestion of form in the +utter blackness; only could be seen a pair of eyes gleaming like live +coals. Henry indicated with his hand a second pair and a third. A +circle of the gleaming eyes had drawn about their camp. Now and again +a pair of eyes moved, or disappeared to appear again a moment later.' + +What did it mean--those restless flashing eyes, like fireflies breaking +across the surface of the darkness? It simply meant that they were in +the Wild at night, and they were with the wild beasts. And what does +it mean, this vivid fragment from my Bible? It means that _He_ was in +the Wild at night, night after night for forty nights, and _He_ was +with the wild beasts. He heard the roar of the lion as it awoke the +echoes of the slumbering forest. He saw the hyena pass stealthily near +Him in the track of a timid deer, and watched the cheetah prowl through +the brushwood in pursuit of a young gazelle. He heard the squeal of +the hare as the crouching fox sprang out; and the flutter of the +partridge as the jackal seized its prey. He heard the slither of the +viper as it glided through the grass beside His head; and was startled +by the shrieking of the nightbirds, and the flapping of their wings, as +they whirled and swooped about Him. And He too saw the gleaming eyes +of the hungry wolves as they drew their fierce cordon around Him. For +He was out in the Wild for forty nights, and He was with the wild +beasts. + + +II + +And yet He was unhurt! Now why was He unharmed those forty nights with +the scrub around Him alive with claws and talons and fangs? He was +with the wild beasts, Mark tells us, and yet no lion sprang upon Him; +no lone wolf slashed at Him with her frightful fangs; no serpent bit +Him. + +'Henry,' said one of Jack London's heroes to the other, as they watched +the wolfish eyes flashing hither and thither in the darkness, 'it's an +awful misfortune to be out of ammunition!' + +But _He_ was unarmed and unprotected! No blade was in His hand; no +ring of fire blazed round about Him to affright the prowling brutes. +And yet He was unharmed! Not a tooth nor a claw left scratch or gash +upon Him! Why was it? It will never do to fall back upon the +miraculous, for the very point of the story of the Temptation is His +sublime refusal to sustain Himself by superhuman aid. By the +employment of miracle He could easily have commanded the stones to +become bread, and He might thus have grandly answered the taunt of the +Tempter and have appeased the gnawings of His body's hunger at one and +the same time. But it would have spoiled everything. He went into the +Wild to be tempted 'like as we are tempted'; and since miracle is not +at _our_ disposal He would not let it be at _His_. It is impossible, +therefore, to suppose that He scorned the aid of miracle to protect Him +from hunger, but called in the aid of miracle to protect Him from the +beasts. + +Now in order to solve this problem I turned to my Bible, beginning at +the very beginning. And there, in the very first chapter, I found the +explanation. 'Have dominion,' God said, 'over the fish of the sea, and +over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon +the earth.' There was nothing really miraculous in Christ's authority +over the fish. I never see a man dangling with a line without a sigh +for our lost dominion. There was nothing really miraculous in Christ's +immunity from harm. The wolves did not tear Him; He told them not to +do so. He was a man, just such a man as God meant all men to be. And +therefore He 'had dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl +of the air, and over every living thing that creepeth upon the earth.' +He was unscathed in the midst of the wolves, not because He was +superhuman, but because He was truly human. We are something less than +human, the wrecks and shadows of men. Having forfeited the authority +of our humanity, the fish no longer obey us, and we have perforce to +dangle for them with hooks and strings. The wolves and the tigers no +longer stand off at our command, and we have to fall back upon +camp-fires and pistols. It is very humiliating! The crown is fallen +from our heads, and all things finned and furred and feathered mock us +in our shame. But Thine, O Man of men, is the power and the dominion, +and all the creatures of the Wild obey Thee! 'He was with the wild +beasts.' + + +III + +What did those wild, dumb, eloquent eyes say to Jesus as they looked +wonderingly at Him out there in the Wild? As they bounded out of the +thicket, crouched, stared at Him, and slunk away, what did they say to +Him, those great lean wolves? And what did He say to them? Animals +are such eloquent things, especially at such times. 'The foxes have +holes,' Jesus said, long afterwards, remembering as He said it how He +watched the creatures of the Wild seek out their lairs. 'And the birds +of the air have nests,' He said, remembering the twittering and +fluttering in the boughs above His head as the feathered things settled +down for the night. 'But the Son of Man hath not where to lay His +head,' He concluded, as He thought of those long, long nights in the +homeless Wild. Did He mean that the wolves were better off than He +was? We are all tempted to think so when the conflict is pressing too +hardly upon us. There seems to be less choice, and therefore less +responsibility, among the beasts of the field; less play of right and +wrong. 'I think,' said Walt Whitman-- + + I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so + placid and self-contained; + I stand and look at them sometimes an hour at a stretch. + They do not sweat and whine about their condition, + They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, + They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, + Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania + of owning things, + Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived + thousands of years ago, + Not one is respectable or industrious over the whole earth. + +Was some flitting, hovering thought like this part of the Temptation in +the Wild? Is that what Mark means when he says so significantly that +'He was with the wild beasts'? Surely; for He was tempted in _all_ +points like as we are, and we have all been tempted in this. 'Good old +Carlo!' we have said, as we patted the dog's head, looking down out of +our eyes of anguish into his calm, impassive gaze. 'Good old Carlo, +you don't know anything of such struggles, old boy!' And we have +fancied for a moment that Carlo had the best of it. It was a black and +blasphemous thought, and He struck it away, as we should strike at a +hawk that fluttered in front of our faces and threatened to pick at our +eyes. But for one moment it hovered before Him, and He caught its ugly +glance. It is a very ugly glance. Our capacity for great inward +strife and for great inward suffering is the one proof we have that we +were made in the image of God. + + +IV + +Was He thinking, I wonder, when He went out to the wolves in the Wild +of those who, before so very long, would be torn to pieces by hungry +beasts for His dear sake? + +'To-day,' said Amplonius, a teacher of the persecuted Roman Christians, +'to-day, by the cruel order of Trajan, Ignatius was thrown to the wild +beasts in the arena. He it was, my children, whom Jesus took, when as +yet he was but a little child, and set him in the midst of the +disciples and said, "Except ye be converted, and become as little +children, ye cannot enter the kingdom of heaven." And now, from the +same Lord who that day laid His sacred hands upon his head, he has +received the martyr crown. But Ignatius did not fear the beasts, my +children. I have seen a letter which he wrote but yesterday to the +aged Polycarp, the angel of the Church of Smyrna. In it he says that +the hungry creatures have no terrors for him. "Would to God," he said, +"that I were come to the beasts prepared for me. I wish that, with +their gaping mouths, they were now ready to rush upon me. Let the +angry beasts tear asunder my members so that I may win Christ Jesus." +Thus Ignatius wrote but yesterday to the beloved Polycarp; and to-day, +with a face like the face of an angel, he gave himself to the wolves. +We know not which of us shall suffer next, my children. The people are +still crying wildly, "The Christians to the lions!" It may be that I, +your teacher, shall be the next to witness for the faith. But let us +remember that for forty days and forty nights Jesus was Himself with +the wild beasts, and not one of them durst harm Him. And He is still +with the wild beasts wherever we His people, are among them; and their +cruel fangs can only tear us so far as it is for our triumph and His +glory.' So spake Amplonius, and the Church was comforted. + +And at this hour there is, in the catacomb at St. Callixtus, at Rome, a +rude old picture of Jesus among the untamed creatures of the Wild. The +thought that lions and leopards crouched at His feet in the days of His +flesh, and were subject unto Him, was very precious to the hunted and +suffering people. + + +V + +Sometimes, too, I fancy that He saw, in these savage brutes that harmed +Him not, a symbol and a prophecy of His own great conquest. For they, +with their hateful fangs and blooded talons, were part of His vast +constituency. 'The whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain +together,' Paul declares. Richard Jefferies pointed to a quaint little +English cottage beside a glorious bank of violets. But he could never +bring himself to pluck the fragrant blossoms, for, in the cottage, the +dreaded small-pox had once raged. 'It seemed,' says Jefferies, 'to +quite spoil the violet bank. There is something in disease so +destructive; as it were, to flowers.' And as the violets shared the +scourge, so the creatures shared the curse. And as they stared dumbly +into the eyes of the Son of God they seemed to half understand that +their redemption was drawing nigh. 'In Nature herself,' as Longfellow +says, 'there is a waiting and hoping, a looking and yearning, after an +unknown something. Yes, when above there, on the mountain, the lonely +eagle looks forth into the grey dawn to see if the day comes not; when +by the mountain torrent the brooding raven listens to hear if the +chamois is returning from his nightly pasture in the valley; and when +the rising sun calls out the spicy odours of the Alpine flowers, then +there awake in Nature an expectation and a longing for a future +revelation of God's majesty.' Did He see this brooding sense of +expectancy in the fierce eyes about Him? And did He rejoice that the +hope of the Wild would in Him be gloriously fulfilled? Who knows? + +In his _Cloister and the Hearth_, Charles Reade tells of the temptation +and triumph of Clement the hermit. 'And one keen frosty night, as he +sang the praises of God to his tuneful psaltery, and his hollow cave +rang with his holy melody, he heard a clear whine, not unmelodious. It +became louder. He peeped through the chinks of his rude door, and +there sat a great red wolf moaning melodiously with his nose high in +the air! Clement was delighted. "My sins are going," he cried, "and +the creatures of God are owning me!" And in a burst of enthusiasm he +sang: + + Praise Him, all ye creatures of His! + Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord! + +And all the time he sang the wolf bayed at intervals.' Did Jesus, I +wonder, see the going of the world's sin and the departure of its +primal curse in the faces of the wild things that howled and roared +around Him? As the fierce things prowled around Him and left Him +unharmed, did He see a symbol of His final subjugation of all earth's +savage and restless elements? Who shall say? + + +VI + +'He was with the wild beasts,' says Mark, 'and the angels ministered +unto Him.' Life always hovers between the beasts and the angels; and +however wolfish may be the eyes that affright us in the day of our +temptation, we may be sure that our solitary struggle is watched by +invisible spectators, and that, after the baying of the beasts, we +shall hear the angels sing. + + + + +VIII + +DICK SUNSHINE + +Dick Sunshine was not his real name; at least so they said. But the +thing that they called his real name did not describe him a scrap; it +seemed to abandon all attempt at description as hopelessly impossible; +but when you called him Dick Sunshine it fitted him like a glove. That +is the immense advantage that nicknames possess over real names. Of +all real things, real names are the most unreal. There is no life in +them. They stand for nothing; they express nothing; they reveal +nothing. They bear no kind of relationship to the unfortunate +individuals who are sentenced to wear them, like meaningless badges, +for the term of their natural lives. But nicknames, on the other hand, +sparkle and flash; they bring the man himself vividly and palpitatingly +before you; and without more introduction or ado, you know him at once +for what he is. That is the reason why we prefer to be called by our +real names. We know in our secret souls that our nicknames are our +true names, and that our real names are mere tags and badges; but we +prefer the meaningless tag to the too candid truth. There are obvious +disadvantages in being constantly spoken of as Mr. Grump, Mrs. +Crosspatch, or Miss Spitfire; whereas Mr. Smith, Mrs. Robinson, or Miss +Jones are much safer and more non-committal. But, for all that, the +nicknames, depend upon it, are the true names. Nicknames reveal the +man; real names conceal the man. And since, in the case of my present +hero, I desire to reveal everything and to conceal nothing, it is +obviously desirable to speak of him by his nickname, which is his true +name, rather than by his real name, which is a mere affectation and +artificiality. He was always Dick Sunshine to me, and I noticed that +the children always called him Dick Sunshine, and children are not +easily deceived. Besides, he _was_ Dick Sunshine, so what is the use +of beating about the bush? + +Who was Dick Sunshine? It is difficult to say. He was partly a grocer +and party a consumptive. He spent half his time laughing, and half his +time coughing. He only stopped laughing in order to cough; and he only +stopped coughing in order to laugh. You could always tell which he was +doing at any particular time by taking a glance at the shop. If the +shop was open, you knew that Dick was behind the counter laughing. If +it was closed, you knew that he was in bed coughing. A fine-looking +fellow was Dick, or would have been if only his health had given him a +chance. Fine wavy golden hair tossed in naïve disorder about his lofty +forehead; and a small pointed golden beard set off a frank, cheery, +open face. Somehow or other, there was a certain touch of chivalry +about Dick, although it is not easy to say exactly how it made itself +felt. It was a certain knightly bearing, perhaps, a haughty contempt +for his own suffering, a rollicking but resolute refusal of anything in +the shape of pity. Coughing or laughing, there was always a roguish +little twinkle in the corner of his eye, a kind of danger signal that +kept you on constant guard lest his next sally should take you by +surprise. + +The church at North-East Valley has had its ups and downs, like most +churches, but as long as Dick was its secretary it never had a gloomy +church meeting. However grave or unexpected might be the crisis, he +came up smiling, and greeted the unseen with a cheer. When things were +going well, he always made the most of it, and drew attention to the +encouraging features in the church's outlook. If things were so-so, he +pointed out that they might have been a great deal worse, and that the +church was putting up a brave fight against heavy odds. If anybody +criticized the minister, Dick was on his feet in a minute. Could the +minister do everything? Dick wanted to know. Was he solely +responsible for the unsatisfactory conditions? Why, anybody who +watches the minister can see that the poor man is doing his best, +which, Dick slyly added, is more than can be said for some of us! And +the ministers of North-East Valley used to tell me that when they +themselves got down in the dumps, Dick treated their collapse as a +glorious joke. He would come down to the Manse and laugh until he +coughed, and cough until he could laugh again, and, by the time that he +stopped laughing and coughing, the masses of his golden hair were +tumbled about his high forehead like shocks of corn blown from the +stocks by playful winds in harvest-time; and when he went home to +finish his coughing, the Manse was flooded with the laughter and the +sunshine that he had left behind him. + +I was sitting one morning in my study at Mosgiel, when there came a +ring at the front door bell. On answering it, I found myself standing +face to face with Dick. He was laughing so violently that he could at +first scarcely salute me. He followed me into the study, and assured +me as he sank into a chair that it was the fun of the world. I asked +him to explain the cause of his boisterous merriment. + +'Had to give it up!' he gasped. 'The doctors told me that I should die +in a week if I remained in the shop any longer. So I've left it to +look after itself, and come away. No fun in dying in a week, you know!' + +I admitted that there was something in that, and inquired what he was +going to do now. + +'That's the joke!' he roared, between laughter and coughing. 'I've +come to stay with you.' + +There was nothing for it but to let him take his time, so I patiently +awaited further explanation. At length it came. + +'Just as I was locking up the shop,' he said, presently, 'I heard that +the temperance people wanted a lecturer and organizer to work this +district. Except the lecturing, it will be all open-air work, so I +applied for it, and got it!' + +'But, my dear fellow,' I remonstrated, 'I never knew that you could +lecture. Why, outside the church meeting, you never made a speech in +your life!' + +'That's part of the joke!' he cried, going off again into a paroxysm of +laughter. 'But I told them that you would help me at the first, and +they appointed me on that condition. So this is to be my head +quarters!' + +His duties were to commence the following week, and we arranged that he +should make his debut as a lecturer at a place called Outram, about +eight miles across country from Mosgiel. I promised to accompany him, +and to fill up such time as he found it impossible or inconvenient to +occupy. In the meantime he got to work with his visiting and +organizing. The open air suited him, his health improved amazingly, +and the Mosgiel Manse simply rocked under the storms of his boisterous +gaiety. Sometimes the shadow of the coming ordeal spread itself +heavily over his spirit, and he came to the study with unwonted gravity +to ask how this or that point in his maiden effort had better be +approached. To prevent his anxiety under this head from becoming too +much for his fragile frame, I lent him a book, and sent him out on to +the sunlit verandah to read it. It chanced to be _The Old Curiosity +Shop_. He had never read anything of Dickens, and it opened a new +world to him. I have never seen anybody fall more completely under the +spell of the magician. From the study I would hear him suddenly yell +with laughter, and come rushing through the hall to read me some +passage that had just captivated his fancy. Whenever he came stealing +along like a thief, I knew it was to talk about the lecture; when he +came like an incarnate thunderstorm, I knew it was about the book. + +One passage in the famous story especially appealed to him. It was the +part about Codlin and Short, the Punch and Judy men. In the middle of +dinner, without the slightest provocation or warning, he would suddenly +drop his knife and fork, throw himself back in his chair, slap his leg +a sounding blow with his hand, and shriek out, 'Codlin's your friend, +not Short,' and then go off into ecstasies of glee as he told the tale +all over again. + +Well, Monday--the day of his opening lecture--came at last. During the +day he was unusually quiet and taciturn, although, even in face of the +grim test that awaited him, the Punch and Judy men haunted his memory +and led to occasional subdued outbursts of fun. After tea we set out. +It was a delicious evening. Few things are sweeter than the early +evenings of early summer. The sunset is throwing long shadows across +the fresh green grass, and the birds are busy in the boughs. +Everything about us was clad in its softest and loveliest garb. We +drove on between massive hedges of fragrant hawthorn, and up huge +avenues of stately blue gum trees, scattering the rabbits before us. +Then we caught sight of the river, and drove over the bridge into the +quiet little town in which such unsuspected adventures awaited us. +Dick was pale and quiet; his sunshine was veiled in banks of cloud, and +I found it difficult to rouse him. On arrival at the hall we found it +crowded. I was naturally delighted; his pleasure was more restrained. +Indeed, he confided to me, with a look that, for him, was positively +lugubrious, that he would have been more gratified if the horrid place +had been empty. However, there was nothing for it. Not a soul, except +myself, knew that Dick was lecturing for the first time in his life; +the chairman led us to the platform; and, after a brief introduction +relative to the renown of the speakers, he called upon Dick to address +the townsfolk. As a maiden effort it was a triumph; his native good +humour combined with careful preparation to produce a really excellent +effect; and he sat down amidst a thunder of applause. I filled in an +odd half-hour, and then the chairman nearly killed Dick at one blow. + +'Would anybody in the audience care to ask either of the speakers a +question?' he gravely inquired. + +Poor Dick was the picture of abject dismay. This was a flank attack +for which he was totally unprepared. An elderly gentleman, in the body +of the hall, rose slowly, adjusted his spectacles, and, with grave +deliberation, announced that he wished to submit a question to the +first speaker. Dick looked like a man whose death-warrant was about to +be signed. The problem was duly enunciated, and it turned out to be a +carefully planned and decidedly awkward one. I wondered how on earth +poor Dick would face the music. He paused, as though considering his +reply. Then a sudden light mantled his face. A wicked twinkle +sparkled in his eye. He rose smartly, looked straight into the face of +his questioner, and exclaimed confidently: + +'Codlin's your friend, not Short!' + +The audience was completely mystified. The answer had no more to do +with the question than Dutch cheese has to do with the rings of Saturn. +For a fraction of a second you could have heard a pin drop. I saw that +the only way of saving the situation was by commencing to applaud, and +I smote my hands together with a will, and laughed as I have rarely +allowed myself to laugh in public. The sympathetic section of the +audience followed suit. A general impression seemed to exist that, +somehow, Dick had made a particularly clever point. The old gentleman +who had asked the question was manifestly bewildered; he gazed +helplessly round on his cheering fellow citizens, and evidently +regarded the answer as some recondite allusion of which it would never +do to display his ignorance. He resumed his seat, discomfited and +ashamed. When the applause and laughter had somewhat subsided, I rose +and moved a vote of thanks to the chairman, which Dick seconded, +though, I fancied, without much show of enthusiasm. Thus the meeting, +which Dick never forgot, came to an eminently satisfactory end, +although I heard privately long afterwards that, as the people took +their homeward way along those country roads, many who had applauded +vigorously inquired confidentially of their neighbours the exact +bearing of the cryptic reply on the particular matter in hand. + +If Dick lacked laughter on the way across the plains to the meeting, he +amply atoned for the deficiency on the way home. How he roared, and +yelled, and screamed in his glee! + +'I had to say something,' he exclaimed. 'I hadn't the slightest idea +what the old gentleman was talking about; and the only thing I could +think of was the Punch and Judy!' + +He laughed and coughed his way through that campaign. Everybody grew +wonderfully fond of him, and looked eagerly for his coming. He did a +world of good, and shamed scores of us out of the gloom in which we +bore our slighter maladies. My mail from New Zealand tells me that, at +last, his cough has proved too much for him, so he has given it up. +But I like to fancy that, in the land where coughing is no more heard, +Dick Sunshine is laughing still. + + + + +IX + +FORTY! + +Life moves along so smoothly with most of us that there seems to be +very little difference between one birthday and another; but to this +rule there is one brilliant and outstanding exception. There is one +birthday on which a man should certainly take a holiday, go for a quiet +stroll, and indulge in a little serious stock-taking. That birthday +is, of course, the fortieth. A man's fortieth birthday is one of the +really great days in his life's little story; and he must make the most +of it. I live in a city which boasts a comparatively meagre +population. The number of people who reach their fortieth birthday +simultaneously must be very small. But in a city of any size some +hundreds of people must daily become forty. And if I dwelt in such a +place, I should feel tempted to conduct a service every now and again +for men and women who were celebrating their fortieth birthday. People +so circumstanced, naturally impressed by the dignity and solemnity of +the occasion, would welcome such a service, and the preacher would have +a chance of sowing the seed in ground that was well prepared, and of +the greatest possible promise. The selection of a text would present +no difficulty. I can think of two right off--one in the Old Testament, +and one in the New--and there must be scores of others equally +appropriate. At forty a man enters upon middle life. What could be +more helpful to him, then, than a short inspiring word on such a text +as Habakkuk's prayer: '_O Lord, revive Thy work in the midst of the +years, in the midst of the years make Thyself known!_' + +I have been recalling, this morning, some painful memories. In my time +I have several times known that peculiarly acute species of anguish +that only comes to us when we discover a cherished idol in ruins. +Men--some of them ministers--upon whose integrity I would cheerfully +have staked everything I possessed, suddenly whelmed themselves in +shame, and staggered out into the dark. It is an experience that makes +a man feel that the very earth is rocking beneath him; it makes him +wonder if it is possible for a good man to be somehow caught in a hot +gust of devilry and swept clean off his feet. But the thing that has +impressed me as I have counted such names sadly on my fingers is that, +without an exception, they were all in the forties, most of them in the +early forties. Youth, of course, often sins, and sins grievously; but +youth recovers itself, and frequently emerges chastened and ennobled by +the bitter experience; but I can recall no instance of a man who fell +in the forties and who ever really recovered himself. Wherefore let +him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall. I remember that, +some time ago, Sir W. Robertson Nicoll quoted a brilliant essayist as +saying that 'the most dangerous years are the forties--the years when +men begin to be rich, when they have opportunities of gratifying their +passions, when they, perhaps, imagine that they have led a starved and +meagre existence.' And so, as I let my mind play about these old and +saddening memories, and as I reflect upon the essayist's corroboration +of my own conclusion, I fancy I could utter, from the very heart of me, +a particularly timely and particularly searching word to those who had +just attained their fortieth birthdays. Or, if I felt that the +occasion was too solemn for speech, I could at least lead them in +prayer. And when I led them in prayer, it would certainly be +Habakkuk's prayer: 'O Lord, revive Thy work in the midst of the years; +in the midst of the years make Thyself known!' It is a prayer for +revival and for revelation. + +The real significance of that prayer lies in the fact that the supreme +tendency of middle life is towards prosiness. Young people write +poetry and get sentimental: so do old people. But people in the +forties--never! A man of forty would as soon be suspected of picking +his neighbour's pocket as of writing poetry. He would rather be seen +walking down the street without collar or necktie than be seen shedding +tears. Ask a company of young people to select some of their favourite +hymns or songs. They will at once call for hymns about heaven or songs +about love. So will old people. But you will never persuade +middle-aged people to sing such songs. They are in the practical or +prosy stage of life. The romance of youth has worn off; the romance of +age has not arrived. They are between the poetry of the dawn and the +poetry of the twilight. And midway between the poetry of the dawn and +the poetry of the twilight comes the panting perspiration of noonday. +When, therefore, I find myself face to face with my congregation of +people who are in the very act of celebrating their fortieth birthday, +I shall urge them to pray with the old prophet that, in the midst of +the years, the youthful romance of their first faith may be revived +within them, and that, in the midst of the years, the revelations that +come at eventide may be delightfully anticipated. + +I said just now, however, that I had an alternative text from the New +Testament. I have an idea that if my first service is a success, I +shall hold another; and, for the sake of variety, I shall address +myself to this second theme. Concerning the very first apostolic +miracle we are expressly and significantly told that '_the man was +above forty years old on whom this miracle of healing was showed_.' +Now I cannot imagine why that particular is added unless it is to tell +those of us who are now 'above forty years old' that we are not beyond +the reach of the sensational. We have not outlived the romance of the +miraculous. We are not 'too old at forty' to experience all the marvel +and the wonder of the grace divine. And, even as I write, I +confidently anticipate the sparkle that will light up the eyes of these +forty-year-olds as I remind them that that man was above forty years of +age upon whom this first triumph of the Church was wrought. + +But there are worse things than prosiness. The mere change from the +poetry of youth to the prose of middle life need not in itself alarm +us. Some of the finest classics in our literature are penned in prose. +But within this minor peril lies the germ of a major peril. The +trouble is that prosiness may develop into pessimism. And when +prosiness curdles into pessimism the case of the patient is very grave. +I heard a young fellow in his teens telling a much older man of his +implicit faith in the providence of God. 'Yes,' said the senior, with +a sardonic smile, 'I used to talk like that when I was your age!' I +heard a young girl telling a woman old enough to be her mother of the +rapture of her soul's experience. 'Ah!' replied the elder lady, 'You +won't talk like that when you have seen as much of the world as I +have!' Here, then, at last we have put our finger on the tragedy that +threatens us in the forties. Why is it? + +The reason is not far to seek. The fact is that at forty a man must +drop something. He has been all his life accumulating until he has +become really overloaded. He has maintained his interest in all the +things that occupied his attention in youth; and, all the way along the +road, fresh claims have been made upon him. His position in the world +is a much more responsible one, and makes a greater drain upon his +thought and energy. He has married, too, and children have come into +his home. There has been struggle and sickness and anxiety. Interests +have multiplied, and life has increased in seriousness. But, +increasing in seriousness, it must not be allowed to increase in +sordidness. A man's life is like a garden. There is a limit to the +things that it will grow. You cannot pack plants in a garden as you +pack sardines in a tin. That is why the farmer thins out the turnips; +that is why the orchardist prunes his trees; and that is why the +husbandman pinches the grapebuds off the trailing vines. Life has to +be similarly treated. At forty a man realizes that his garden is +getting overcrowded. It contains all the flowers that he planted in +his sentimental youth and all the vegetables that he set there in his +prosaic manhood. It is too much. There must be a thinning out. And, +unless he is very, very careful, he will find that the thinning-out +process will automatically consist of the sacrifice of all the pansies +and the retention of all the potatoes. + +Now, when I address my congregation of people who are celebrating their +fortieth birthday, I shall make a most fervent appeal on behalf of the +pansies. Potatoes are excellent things, and the garden becomes +distinctly wealthier when, in the twenties and thirties, a man begins +to moderate his passion for pansies, and to plant a few potatoes. But +a time comes when he must make a stand on behalf of the pansies, or he +will have no soul for anything beyond potatoes. Round his potato beds +let him jealously retain a border of his finest pansies; and, depend +upon it, when he gets into the fifties and the sixties he will be glad +that, all through life, he remained true to the first fondnesses of +youth. + +Not that he will have to wait for the fifties and the sixties. As soon +as a man has faced the situation, taken his stand, and made his +decision, he begins to congratulate himself upon it. That is one of +life's most subtle laws. Let us, then, see how it operates in another +field. Sir Francis Jeune, the great divorce judge, said that the +eighth year was the dangerous year in wedded life. More tragedies +occurred in the eighth year than in any other. And Mr. Philip Gibbs +has recently written a novel entitled _The Eighth Year_, in which he +makes the heroine declare that, in marriage, the eighth year is the +fatal year. + +'"It's a psychological fact," said Madge. "I work it out in this way. +In the first and second years a wife is absorbed in the experiment of +marriage and in the sentimental phase of love. In the third and fourth +years she begins to study her husband and to find him out. In the +fifth and sixth years, having found him out completely, she makes a +working compromise with life and tries to make the best of it. In the +seventh and eighth years she begins to find out herself. Life has +become prosaic. Her home has become a cage to her. In the eighth year +she must find a way of escape--anyhow, anywhere. And in the eighth +year the one great question is, in what direction will she go? There +are many ways of escape."' And so comes the disaster. + +All this seems to show that the eighth year of marriage is like the +fortieth year of life. It is the year in which husband and wife are +called upon to make their supreme stand on behalf of the pansies. And +supposing they do it? Suppose that they make up their minds that +everything shall not be sacrificed to potatoes; what follows? Why, to +be sure, the best follows. Coventry Patmore, in his _Angel in the +House_--the classic of all young husbands and young wives--says that +the years that follow the eighth are the sweetest and the fullest of +all. What, he asks-- + + What + For sweetness like the ten years' wife, + Whose customary love is not + Her passion, or her play, but life? + With beauties so maturely fair, + Affecting, mild, and manifold, + May girlish charms no more compare + Than apples green with apples gold. + Ah, still unpraised Honoria, Heaven, + When you into my arms it gave, + Left naught hereafter to be given + But grace to feel the good I have. + + +Here, then, is the crisis reached; the stand successfully made on +behalf of the pansies; and all life fuller and richer for ever +afterwards in consequence. Every man and woman at forty is called upon +for a similar chivalrous effort. At forty we become the knights of the +pansies, and if we let them go we shall find that at fifty it will be +difficult to find even a sprig of heartsease anywhere. + +Whether I take as my text the prophet's prayer for a revival and a +revelation in the midst of the years, or the story of the man who was +more than forty years old when he fell under the spell of the +miraculous, I know how I shall close my sermon. I shall close by +telling the story of Dr. Kenn and Maggie Tulliver from _The Mill on the +Floss_. It will convince my hearers that folk in the forties have a +great and beautiful and sacred ministry to exercise. Maggie was young, +and the perplexities of life were too much for her. Dr. Kenn was +arrested by the expression of anguish in her beautiful eyes. Dr. Kenn +was himself neither young nor old, but middle-aged; and Maggie felt a +childlike, instinctive relief when she saw that it was Dr. Kenn's face +that was looking into hers. 'That plain, middle-aged face, with a +grave, penetrating kindness in it, seeming to tell of a human being who +had reached a firm, safe strand, but was looking with helpful pity +towards the strugglers still tossed by the waves, had an effect on +Maggie at this moment which was afterwards remembered by her as if it +had been a promise.' And then George Eliot makes this trite and +significant remark. 'The middle-aged,' she says, 'who have lived +through their strongest emotions, but are yet in the time when memory +is still half-passionate and not merely contemplative, should surely be +a sort of natural priesthood, whom life has disciplined and consecrated +to be the refuge and rescue of early stumblers and victims of +self-despair. Most of us, at some moment in our young lives, would +have welcomed a priest of that natural order in any sort of canonicals +or uncanonicals, but had to scramble upwards into all the difficulties +of nineteen entirely without such aid.' + +And after hearing that fine story my congregation of folk on the +threshold of the forties will return from the quiet church to the busy +street humming the songs that they sang at nineteen; vowing that, come +what may, the potatoes shall not elbow out all the pansies; and +congratulating themselves that the richest wine in the chalice of life +still waits their thirsty lips. + + + + +X + +A WOMAN'S REASON + +"Will you go with me?" + +'"No, indeed; you must go alone. I shall not appear at all." + +'"Why, mother?" + +'"_Because!_"' + +I came across the above passage near the beginning of one of Myrtle +Reed's stories--_The Master's Violin_--and, towards the end, I found +this: + +'"Iris, I have been miserable ever since I told you I wrote the +letters." + +'"Why, dear?" + +'"_Because!_"' + +And then, in quite another book--Maurice Thompson's _Sweetheart +Manette_--I came upon this: + +'"Why can't you tell me?" asked Rowland Hatch. + +'"I don't know that I have the right," replied Manette. + +'"Why?" + +'"_Because!_"' + +Now, that word '_because_' is very interesting. 'It is a woman's +reason,' Miss Reed confides to us. That may, or may not, be so. I +know nothing about that. It is not my business. I only know that it +is the oldest reason, and the safest reason, and by far the strongest. + +Now, really, no man can say why. As Miss Reed says in another passage +lying midway between the two quoted: 'We all do things for which we can +give no reason.' We do them _because_. No man can say why he prefers +coffee to cocoa, or mutton to beef. He likes the one better than the +other _because_. No man can say why he chose his profession. He +decided to be a doctor or a carpenter _because_. No man can say why he +fell in love with his wife. It would be an affectation to pretend that +she is really incomparably superior to all other women upon the face of +the earth. And yet to him she is not only incomparably superior, and +incomparably lovelier, and incomparably nobler, but she is absolutely +the one and only woman on the planet or off it. No other swims into +the field of vision. She is first, and every other woman is nowhere. +Why? '_Because!_' There is no other reason. + +The fact is that we get into endless confusion when we sail out into +the dark, mysterious seas that lie beyond that 'because.' Nine times +out of ten our conclusions are unassailable. And nine times out of ten +our reasons for reaching those conclusions are absurdly illogical, +totally inadequate, or grossly mistaken. Everybody remembers the fable +of the bantam cock who assured the admiring farmyard that the sun rose +every morning because of its anxiety to hear him crow! The fact was +indisputable; the sun did certainly rise every morning. It was only at +the attempt to ascribe a specific reason for its rising that the +argument broke down. It is always safer to say that the sun rises +every morning _because_. Ministers at least will recall the merriment +that Hugh Latimer made of Master More. The good man had been appointed +to investigate the cause of the Goodwin Sands. He met with small +success in his inquiries. At last he came upon an old man who had +lived in the district nearly a hundred years. The centenarian knew. +The secret sparkled in his eyes. Master More approached the prodigy. +'Yes, sir,' the old man answered, 'I know. Tenterden Steeple is the +cause of Goodwin Sands! I remember when they built the steeple. +Before that we never heard of sands, or flats, or shallows off this +haven. They built the steeple, and then came the sands. Yes, sir, +Tenterden Steeple is the cause of the destruction of Sandwich Harbour!' + +When we wander beyond that wise word 'because' circumstances seem +malicious; they conspire to deceive us. I remember passing a window in +London in which a sewing-machine was displayed. The machine was +working. A large doll sat beside it, its hand on the wheel. The +doll's hand appeared to be turning the handle. As a matter of fact, +the machine was electrically driven, and the wheel turned the hand of +the doll. In the realm of cause and effect we are frequently the dupes +and victims of a very dexterous system of legerdemain. The resultant +quantity is invariably clear; the contributing causes are not what they +seem. + +I find myself believing to-day pretty much what I believed twenty years +ago; but I find myself believing the same things for different reasons. +As life goes on, a man learns to put more and more confidence in his +conclusions, and to become more and more chary of the reasons that led +to those conclusions. If a certain course seems to him to be right, he +automatically adopts it, and he confidently persists in it even after +the reasons that first dictated it have fallen under suspicion. 'More +than once in an emergency at sea,' says Dr. Grenfell, the hero of +Labrador, 'I have swiftly decided upon a certain line of action. If I +had waited to hem my reason into a corner before adopting that course, +I should not be here to tell the tale.' We often flatter ourselves +that we base our conclusions upon our reasons. In reality, we do +nothing of the kind. The mind works so rapidly that it tricks us. It +is another case of legerdemain. Once more, it is the machine that +turns the doll, and not the doll that turns the machine. Our thinking +faculties often play at ride-a-cock-horse. We recall Browning's lines: + + When I see boys ride-a-cock-horse, + I find it in my heart to embarrass them + By hinting that their stick's a mock horse, + And they really carry what they say carries them. + +The rugged truth is, that we first of all reach our conclusions. That +is the starting-point. Then, amazed at our own temerity in doing so, +we hasten to tack on a few reasons as a kind of apology to ourselves +for our own intrepidity, a tardy concession to intellectual decency and +good order. But whether we recognize it or not, we do most things +_because_. As Pascal told us long ago, 'the heart has reasons which +the reason does not know. It is the heart that feels God, not the +reason.' When old Samuel Wesley lay dying in 1735, he turned to his +illustrious son John, saying: 'The inward witness, son, the inward +witness! That is the proof, the strongest proof of Christianity!' 'I +did not at the time understand him,' says John, in quoting the words +with approval long afterwards. But the root of the whole matter lies +just there. + +My reference to Dr. Grenfell reminds me. The good doctor was +questioned the other day as to his faith in immortality. 'I believe in +it,' he replied, 'because I believe in it. I am sure of it, because I +am sure of it.' Precisely! That is the point. We believe _because_. +And then, on our sure faith, we pile up a stupendous avalanche of +Christian evidences. Emerson tells us of two American senators who +spent a quarter of a century searching for conclusive evidence of the +immortality of the soul. And Emerson finishes the story by saying that +the impulse which prompted their long search was itself the strongest +proof that they could have had. Of course! Although they knew it not, +they already believed. They believed _because_. And then, finding +their faith naked, and feeling ashamed, they set out to beg, borrow, or +steal a few rags of reasons with which to deck it. It is the problem +of Professor Teufelsdrockh and _Sartor Resartus_ over again. It all +comes back to Carlyle's 'Everlasting Yea.' The shame is mock modesty; +and the craving is a false one. A woman's reason is the best reason. +As the years go by, we become less and less eager for evidence. We are +content to believe _because_. 'I was lately looking out of my window,' +Martin Luther wrote from Coburg to a friend, 'and I saw the stars in +the heavens, and God's great beautiful arch over my head, but I could +not see any pillars on which the great Builder had fixed this arch; and +yet the heavens fell not, and the great arch stood firmly. There are +some who are always feeling for the pillars, and longing to touch them. +And, because they cannot touch them, they stand trembling, and fearing +lest the heavens should fall. If they could only grasp the pillars, +then the heavens would stand fast.' + +'"But how do you know that there is any Christ? You never saw Him!" +said poor Augustine St. Clare, the slave-owner, to Uncle Tom, the slave. + +'"I feel it in my soul, mas'r--feel Him now! Oh, mas'r, the blessed +Lord Jesus loves you!" + +'"But how do you know that, Tom?" said St. Clare. + +'"I feels it in my soul, mas'r; oh, mas'r, the love of Christ that +passeth knowledge." + +'"But, Tom, you know that I have a great deal more knowledge than you; +what if I should tell you that I don't believe your Bible? Wouldn't +that shake your faith some, Tom?" + +'"Not a grain, mas'r!" And St. Clare felt himself borne, on the tide +of Tom's faith and feeling, almost to the gate of heaven. + +'"I like to hear you, Tom; and some time I'll talk more."' + +Uncle Tom's argument was the strongest and most convincing after all; +if only all we arguers, and debaters, and controversialists could come +to recognize it. He believed _because_. And, now that I come to think +of it, Miss Myrtle Reed is wrong in calling it a woman's reason. It is +a divine argument, the oldest, and sweetest, and strongest of all +divine arguments. I said just now that a man loves a woman just +_because_ he loves her, and he could not in a thousand volumes give an +intelligent and convincing explanation of his preference. And--let me +say it in a hushed and reverent whisper--God loves in much the same +way. Listen, and let me read: 'The Lord did not set His love upon you +because ye were more in number than any people, for ye were the fewest +of all people; but _because_ the Lord loved you!' He loved _because_ +He loved. He loved _because_. + +I intend, therefore, to proclaim the magnificent verities of the +Christian gospel. I shall talk with absolute certainty, and with +unwavering confidence, about the sin of man, the love of God, the Cross +of Christ. If my message is met with a 'why' or a 'wherefore,' I have +only one reply--'_Because!_' There is nothing else to be said. The +preacher lives to tell a wonderful love-story. And a love-story is +never arguable. 'God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten +Son!' Why? _Because!_ + + + + +PART II + + +I + +THE HANDICAP + +I + +It was a sunny autumn afternoon. The leaves were rustling about my +feet, and the first nip of winter was in the air. It was Saturday, and +I was out for a stroll. Suddenly a crowd attracted my attention, and, +impelled by that curiosity which such a concourse invariably excites, I +drew near to see whether it meant a fire or a fight. It was neither. +As I approached I caught sight of young fellows moving in and out among +the people, wearing light many-coloured garments, and I guessed that a +race was about to be run. Almost as soon as I arrived, the men were +called up, arranged in a long line, and preparations made for the +start. At a signal two or three of them sprang out from the line and +bounded with an easy stride along the load. A few seconds later, three +or four more followed; then others; until at last only one was left; +and, after a brief period of further waiting, he also left the line and +set out in pursuit. It was a handicap, I was told, and this man had +started from scratch. It was to be a long race, and it would be some +time before any of the runners could be expected back again. The +crowd, therefore, dispersed for the time being, breaking up into knots +and groups, each of which strolled off to while away the waiting time +as its own taste suggested. I turned into a lane that led up into the +bush on the hillside, and, from that sheltered and sunny eminence, +watched for the first sign of the returning runners. + +Sitting there with nothing to do, it flashed upon me that the scene I +had just witnessed was a reflection, as in a mirror, of all human +experience and endeavour. Most men are heavily handicapped; it is no +good blinking the fact. Ask a man to undertake some office or assume +some responsibility in connexion with the church, and he will silence +you at once with a narration of the difficulties that stand in his way. +Ask a man to act on some board or committee for the management of some +charitable or philanthropic enterprise, and he will explain to you that +he has not a minute to spare. Ask a man to subscribe to some most +necessary or deserving object, and he will tell you of the incessant +demands to which he is subjected. Now it is no good putting all this +down to cant. We have no right to assume that these are merely the +lame excuses of men who, in their secret souls, do not desire to assist +us. We must not hastily hurl at them the curse that fell upon Meroz +because it came not to the help of the Lord against the mighty. All +that they say is perfectly true. The difficulties that debar the first +of these men from undertaking the work to which you are calling him are +both real and formidable; the second man has every moment of his time +fully occupied; the third man, because he is known to be generous, is +badgered to death with collecting-lists from the first thing in the +morning till the last thing at night. We must not judge these men too +harshly. In the uncharitableness of our hearts we imagine that they +have given us excuses which are not reasons. The fact is that they +have done exactly the reverse; they have given us reasons which are not +excuses. We are on safer ground when we recognize frankly that it is +very difficult for many men to devote much time, much energy, and much +money to the kingdom of God. Many men are heavily handicapped. + + +II + +'Isn't that one of the runners just coming in sight now?' a friend +asked, pointing along the road. I fancied that he was right, so we +rose and strolled down to the spot from which the race had started. We +must have been mistaken, for when we emerged from the lane there was no +sign of the competitors, I was not sorry, however, that we had returned +prematurely; for I noticed the handicapper strolling idly about, and +got into conversation with him. + +'There seems to me to be very little sense in a race of this kind,' I +suggested to him. 'If those men win who started first, the honour is +very small in view of the start they received; whilst if the man who +started last fails to win, he feels it to be no disgrace, and comforts +himself with the reflection that he was too heavily handicapped. Is +that not so?' + +'Oh, no,' replied the handicapper, politely concealing his pity for my +simplicity; 'it works out just the other way. It isn't fair, don't you +see, to keep those chaps that got away first always running in a class +by themselves. It does not call out the best that is in them. But +to-day it does them good to feel that they are being matched against +some of the finest runners in the State, and they will strain every +effort to try to beat the champions. And it does a man like Brown, who +started from scratch, no harm to see those fellows all getting ahead of +him at the start. He knows very well that he can beat any man in the +country on level terms, and in such races he will only put forth just +as much effort as is needed to get ahead of his opponent. But there is +nothing to show that he could not do much better still if only his +opponent were more formidable. In a race like this, however, he knows +that anything may happen. His usual rivals have all got a start of +him; if he is to defend his good name, he must beat all his previous +records and bring his utmost power into play. And so every man in the +race is put on his mettle. We consider the handicap a very useful race +indeed!' + +'Perhaps so,' I said, feeling that I was beaten, but feebly attempting +to cover my retreat; 'but how do you compute the exact starts and +handicaps which the different men are to take?' + +'Ah,' he said, 'now you've touched the vital question.' I was +gratified at his recognition of the good order of my retirement. 'You +see,' he went on, 'we have to look up the men's previous performances +and work out the differences in their records with mathematical +exactness. But there is something more than that. We have to know the +men. You can't adjust the handicaps by rule of three. Anybody who has +seen Jones run must have noticed that he's a bit downhearted. He has +been beaten every time, and he goes into a race now expecting to be +beaten, and is therefore beaten before he starts. He needs +encouragement, and we have to consider that fact in arranging his +handicap. Then there's Smith. He's too cocksure. He has never had +any difficulty in beating men of his own class. He needs putting on +his mettle. So we increase his handicap accordingly. It takes a lot +of working out, and a lot of thinking about, I tell you. But here they +come!' + +There was no mistake this time. A batch of runners came into sight all +at once, the officials took their places, and the crowd clustered +excitedly round. As we waited, the remarks to which I had just +listened took powerful hold upon my mind. The handicaps of life may +have been more carefully calculated and more beneficently designed than +we have sometimes been inclined to suppose. + + +III + +It was a fine finish. As the first batch of men drew nearer I was +pleased to notice that Brown, the fellow in light blue, who had started +last, was among them. Gradually he drew out from the rest, and, with a +magnificent spurt, asserted his superiority and won the race. A few +minutes later I took the tram citywards. Just as it was starting, +Brown also entered the car. I could not resist the opportunity of +congratulating him. + +'It must have taken the heart out of you,' I said, 'to see all the +other fellows getting away in front of you, and to find yourself left +to the last?' + +'Oh, no,' he replied, with a laugh, 'it's a bit of an honour, isn't it, +to see that they think me so much better than everybody else that they +fancy I have a sporting chance under such conditions? And, besides, it +spurs a fellow to do his best. When you are accustomed to winning +races, it doesn't feel nice to be beaten, even in a handicap, and to +avoid being beaten you've got to go for all you're worth.' + +I shook hands and left him. But I felt that he had given me something +else to think about. + +'It's a bit of an honour!' he had said. 'And, besides, it spurs a +fellow to do his best!' + +The next time a man tells me that he cannot help me because he is so +heavily handicapped, what a tale I shall have to tell him! + + +IV + +My Saturday afternoon experience has convinced me that, in the Church, +we have tragically misinterpreted the significance of handicaps. + +'I am very heavily handicapped,' we say in the Church, 'therefore I +must not attempt this thing!' + +'I am very heavily handicapped,' they say out there at their sports, +'therefore I must put all my strength into it!' + +And who can doubt that the philosophy of the Churchmen is false, or +that the philosophy of the sportsmen is sound? There is a great saying +of Bacon's that every handicapped man should learn by heart. +'Whosoever,' he says, 'hath anything fixed in his person that doth +induce contempt hath also a perpetual spur in himself to rescue and +deliver himself from scorn.' Is that why so many of the world's +greatest benefactors were men who bore in their bodies the marks of +physical affliction--blindness, deafness, disease, and the like? They +felt that they were heavily handicapped, and that their handicap called +them to make a supreme effort 'to rescue and deliver themselves from +scorn.' + +When speaking of the difficulty which a black boy experiences in +America in competing with his white rivals, Booker Washington tells us +that his own pathetic and desperate struggle taught him that 'success +is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in +life as by the obstacles which he has overcome while trying to +succeed.' There is a good deal in that. I was once present at a +meeting of a certain Borough Council, at which an engineer had to +report on a certain proposal which the municipal authorities were +discussing. The engineer contented himself with remarking that there +were serious difficulties in the way of the execution of the plan. +Whereupon the Mayor turned upon the unfortunate engineer and remarked, +'We pay you your salary, Mr. Engineer, not to tell us that difficulties +exist, but to show us how to surmount them!' I thought it rather a +severe rebuke at the time, but very often since, when I have been +tempted to allow my handicaps to divert me from my duty, I have been +glad that I heard the poor engineer censured. + +I was once deeply and permanently impressed by a chairman's speech at a +meeting in Exeter Hall. That noble old auditorium was crowded from +floor to ceiling for the annual missionary demonstration of the +Wesleyan Methodist Church. The chair was occupied by Mr. W. E. Knight, +of Newark. In the course of a most earnest plea for missionary +enthusiasm, Mr. Knight suddenly became personal. 'I was born in a +missionary atmosphere,' he said. 'I have lived in it ever since; I +hope I shall die in it. Over forty years ago my heart was touched with +the story of the world's needs; when I heard such men as Gervase Smith, +Dr. Punshon, Richard Roberts, G. T. Perks, and others, I said, "Lord, +here am I, send me." I came up to London forty-one years ago as a +candidate for the Methodist ministry. I offered myself, but the Church +did not see fit to accept my offer. I remember well coming up to the +college at Westminster and being told of the decision of the committee +by that sainted man, William Jackson. I went to the little room in +which I had slept with a broken heart. I despised myself. I was +rejected of men, and I felt that I was forsaken of God.' Now here is a +man heavily handicapped; but let him finish his story. 'In that moment +of darkness,' Mr. Knight continued, 'the deepest darkness of my life, +there came to me a voice which has influenced my life from then till +now. It said. "If you cannot go yourself, send some one else." I was +a poor boy then; I knew that I could not pay for anybody else to go. +But time rolled on. I prospered in business. And to-night I shall lay +on the altar a sum which I wish the committee to invest, and the +interest on that sum will support a missionary in Africa, not during my +lifetime only, but as long as capital is capable of earning interest. +And, ladies and gentlemen, I assure you that this is a red-letter day +in my life!' + +Of course it was! It was the day on which he had turned his handicap +to that account for which all handicaps were intended. + +'My handicap was an honour and a spur!' said the champion in the +tramcar. + +'My handicap was an honour and a spur!' said the chairman at Exeter +Hall. + +Both the champion and the chairman did by means of their handicaps what +they could never have done without those handicaps. There can be no +doubt about it; handicaps were designed, not as the pitiful excuses of +the indolent, but as the magnificent inspirations of the brave. + + + + +II + +GOG AND MAGOG + +Gog and Magog, let it be dearly understood, are the two tall +poplar-trees that keep ceaseless vigil by my gate. I state this fact +baldly and unequivocally at the very outset in order to set at rest, +once and for ever, all controversies and disputations on that +fascinating point. Historians will reach down the ponderous and dusty +tomes that litter up their formidable shelves, and will tell me that +Gog and Magog were two famous British giants whose life-sized statues, +fourteen feet high, have stood for more than two hundred years in the +Guildhall in London. But that is all that the historians know about +it! Theologians, and especially theologians of a certain school, will +remind me that Gog and Magog are biblical characters. Are they not +mentioned in the prophecy of Ezekiel and in the Book of Revelation? +And then, looking gravely over their spectacles, these learned-looking +gentlemen will ask me if I am seriously of opinion that the inspired +writers were referring to my pair of lofty poplars. I hasten to assure +these nervous and unimaginative gentlemen that I propose to commit +myself to no such heresy. Like Mrs. Gamp, I would not presume. For +ages past these cryptic titles have provided my excellent friends with +ground for interminable speculation, and for the most ingenious +exploits of interpretation. How could I have the heart to exclusively +allocate to these stately sentinels that guard my gate the titles that +have afforded the interpreters such endless pleasure? I would as soon +attempt to snatch from a boy his only peg-top, or from a girl her only +doll, as embark upon so barbarous an atrocity. How could they ever +again declare, with the faintest scrap of confidence, that Gog and +Magog represented any particular pair of princes or potentates if I +deliberately anticipate them by walking off with both labels and coolly +attaching them to my two poplar-trees? The thing is absurd upon the +face of it. And so I repeat that for the purposes of this article, and +for the purposes of this article only, Gog and Magog are the two tall +poplar-trees that keep ceaseless vigil by my gate. + +Trees are very lovable things. We all like Beaconsfield the better +because he was so passionately devoted to the trees at Hughenden. He +was so fond of them that he directed in his will that none of them +should ever be cut down. So I am not ashamed of my tenderness for Gog +and Magog. There they stand, down at the gate; the one on the one +side, and the other on the other. Huge giants they are, with a giant's +strength and a giant's stature, but with more than a giant's grace. +From whichever direction I come, they always seem to salute me with a +welcome as soon as I come round the bend in the road. It is always +pleasant when home has something about it that can be seen at a +distance. The last half-mile on the homeward road is the half-mile in +which the climax of weariness is reached. It is like the last straw +that breaks the camel's back. But if there is a light at the window, +or some clear landmark that distinguishes the spot, the very sight of +the familiar object lures the traveller on, and in actual sight of home +he forgets his fatigue. + +It is a very pleasant thing to have two glorious poplars at your gate. +They always seem to be craning, straining, towering upward to catch the +first glimpse of you; and they make home seem nearer as soon as you +come within sight of them. Gog and Magog are such companionable +things. They always have something to say to you. It is true that +they talk of little but the weather; but then, that is what most people +talk about. I like to see them in August, when a certain olive sheen +mantles their branches and tells you that the swallows will soon be +here. I like to see them in October, when they are a towering column +of verdure, every leaf as bright as though it has just been varnished. +I even like to see them in April, when they strew the paths with a +rustling litter of bronze and gold. They tell me that winter is +coming, with its long evenings, its roaring fires, and its insistence +on the superlative attractions of home. There never dawns a day on +which Gog and Magog are not well worth looking at and well worth +listening to. + +But although I have been speaking of Gog and Magog as though they were +as much alike as two peas, the very reverse is the case. No two +things--not even the two peas--are exactly alike. When God makes a +thing He breaks the mould. The two peas do not resemble each other +under a microscope. Macaulay, in his essay on Madame D'Arblay, +declares that this extraordinary range of distinctions within very +narrow limits is one of the most notable things in the universe. 'No +two faces are alike,' he says, 'and yet very few faces deviate very +widely from the common standard. Among the millions of human beings +who inhabit London, there is not one who could be taken by his +acquaintance for another; yet we may walk from Paddington to Mile End +without seeing one person in whom any feature is so overcharged that we +turn round to stare at it. An infinite number of varieties lies +between limits which are not very far asunder. The specimens which +pass those limits on either side form a very small minority.' + +So is it with trees. When you first drive up an avenue of poplars you +regard each tree as the exact duplicate of all the others. There is +certainly a general similarity, just as, in some households, there is a +striking family likeness. But just as, after spending a few days with +that household, you no longer mistake Jack for Charlie, or Jessie for +Jean, and even laugh at yourself for ever having been so stupid, so, +when you get to know the poplars better, you no longer suppose that +they are all alike. You soon detect the marks of individuality among +them; and, if one were felled and brought you, you could describe with +perfect accuracy the two trees between which it stood. That is +particularly the case with Gog and Magog. A casual visitor would +remark, as he approached the house, that we had a pair of gigantic +poplars at the front gate. It does not occur to him to distinguish +between them. For aught he knows, or for aught he cares, Gog might be +Magog, or Magog might be Gog. But to us the thing is absurd. We know +them so well that we should as soon think of mistaking one of the +children for another as of mistaking Gog for Magog, or Magog for Gog. +We salute the tall trees every morning when we rise; we pass them with +mystic greetings of our own a dozen times a day; and, before retiring +at night, we like to peep from the front windows and see their gigantic +forms grandly silhouetted against the evening sky. Gog is Gog, and +Magog is Magog; and the idea of mistaking the one for the other seems +ludicrous in the extreme. The solar system is as full of mysteries as +a conjurer's portmanteaux; but, of all the mysteries that it contains, +the mystery of individuality is surely the most inscrutable of all. + +'What is the difference between Gog and Magog?' somebody wants to know; +and I am glad that somebody asked the question, for it gives me the +opportunity of pointing out that between Gog and Magog there is all the +difference in the world. There is a difference in girth; there is a +difference in height; and there is a difference in fibre. I have just +run a tape round both trees. Magog gives a measurement of just six +feet; whilst Gog puts those puny proportions to shame with a record of +seven feet six inches. I have not attempted to climb the trees; but I +can see at a glance that Gog is at least eight feet taller than his +brother. Nor do these measurements sum up the whole of Gog's +advantage. For you cannot glance at the twins without seeing that Gog +is incalculably the sturdier. In the trunk of Magog there is a huge +cavity into which a child could creep and be perfectly concealed; but +Gog is as sound as a bell. Any one who has seen two brothers grow up +side by side--the one sturdy, masculine, virile, and full of health; +the other, puny, delicate, fragile, and threatened with disease--knows +how I feel whenever I pass between these two sentries at the gate. I +am full of admiration for the glorious strength of Gog; I am touched to +tenderness by the comparative frailty of poor Magog. It is odd that +two trees of the same age, growing together under precisely identical +conditions, should have turned out so differently. There must be a +reason for it. Is there? There is! + +The fact is, Gog gets all the wind. I have often watched the storm +come sweeping down on the two tall trees, and it is grand to watch +them. The huge things sway and bend like tossing plumes, and sometimes +you almost fancy that they will break like reeds before the fury of the +blast. Great branches are torn off; smaller boughs and piles of twigs +are scattered all around like wounded soldiers on a hotly contested +field; but the trees outlive the storm, and you love them all the +better for it. But, all the time, you can see that it is Gog that is +doing the fighting. The fearful onslaught breaks first upon him; and +the force of the attack is broken by the time it reaches Magog. It may +be that Gog is very fond of Magog, and, pitying his frailty, seeks to +shelter him. It certainly looks like it. But, if so, it is a mistaken +kindness. It is just because Gog has had to bear the brunt of so many +attacks that he has sent down his roots so deeply and has become so +magnificently strong. It is because Magog has always been protected +and sheltered that he is so feeble, and cuts so sorry a figure beside +his stouter brother. + +And now I find myself sitting at the feet of Gog and Magog, not only +literally but metaphorically, and they begin to teach me things. It is +not half a bad thing to be living in a world that has some fight in it. +It is a good thing for a man to be buffeted and knocked about. I fancy +that Gog and Magog could say some specially comforting things to +parents. The tendency among us is to try to secure for our children +the kind of life that Magog leads, hidden, sheltered, and protected. +Yet nobody can take a second glance at poor Magog--his shorter stature, +his smaller girth, his softer fibre--without entertaining the gravest +doubts concerning the wisdom of so apparently considerate a choice. It +is perfectly natural, and altogether creditable to the fond hearts and +earnest solicitude of doting parents, that they should seek to rear +their children like hot-house plants, protected from the nipping frosts +and frigid blasts of a chilling world. But it can be overdone. A +great meeting, attended by five thousand people, was recently held in +London to deal with the White Slave question. And I was greatly struck +by the fact that one of the most experienced and observant of the +speakers--the Rev. J. Ernest Rattenbury, of the West London +Mission--declared with deep emotion and impressive emphasis that 'it is +the girls who come from _the sheltered homes_ who stand in the greatest +peril.' Perhaps I shall render the most practical service if I put the +truth the other way. Instead of dwelling so much on Magog, look at +Gog. I know fathers and mothers who are inclined to break their hearts +because their boys and girls have had to go out from the shielding care +of their homes into the rough and tumble of the great world. Look at +Gog, I say again, look at Gog! + +Was it not Alfred Russel Wallace who tried to help an emperor-moth, and +only harmed it by his ill-considered ministry? He came upon the +creature beating its wings and struggling wildly to force its passage +through the narrow neck of its cocoon. He admired its fine +proportions, eight inches from the tip of one wing to the tip of the +other, and thought it a pity that so handsome a creature should be +subjected to so severe an ordeal. He therefore took out his lancet and +slit the cocoon. The moth came out at once; but its glorious colours +never developed. The soaring wings never expanded. The indescribable +hues and tints and shades that should have adorned them never appeared. +The moth crept moodily about; drooped perceptibly; and presently died. +The furious struggle with the cocoon was Nature's wise way of +developing the splendid wings and of sending the vital fluids pulsing +through the frame until every particle blushed with their beauty. The +naturalist had saved the little creature from the struggle, but had +unintentionally ruined and slain it in the process. It is the story of +Gog and Magog over again. + +In my college days I used to go down to a quaint little English village +for the week-end in order to conduct services in the village chapel on +Sunday. I was always entertained by a little old lady whose face +haunts me still. It was so very human, and so very wise, and withal so +very beautiful; and the white ringlets on either side completed a +perfect picture. She dwelt in a modest little cottage on top of the +hill. It was a queer, tumble-down old place with crooked rafters and +crazy lattice windows. Roses and honeysuckle clambered all over the +porch, straggled along the walls, and even crept under the eaves into +the cottage itself. The thing that impressed me when I first went was +the extraordinary number of old Bessie's visitors. On Saturday nights +they came one after another, young men and sedate matrons, old men and +tripping maidens, and each desired to see her alone. She was very old; +she had known hunger and poverty; the deeply furrowed brow told of long +and bitter trouble. She was a great sufferer, too, and daily wrestled +with her pitiless disease. But, like the sturdier of the poplars by my +gate, she had gathered into herself the force of all the cruel winds +that had beaten so savagely upon her. And the result was that her own +character had become so strong and so upright and so beautiful that she +was recognized as the high-priestess of that English countryside, and +every man and maiden who needed counsel or succour made a beaten path +to her open door. + + + + +III + +MY WARDROBE + +Changing your mind is for all the world like changing your clothes. +You may easily make a mistake, especially if the process is performed +in the dark. And, as a matter of fact, a man is usually more or less +in the dark at the moment in which he changes his mind. An +absent-minded friend of mine went upstairs the other day to prepare for +a social function. To the consternation of his unhappy wife he came +down again wearing his old gardening suit. A man may quite easily make +a mistake. Before he enters upon the process of robing he must be sure +of three things: (1) He must be quite clear that the clothes he +proposes to doff are unsuitable. (2) He must be sure that his wardrobe +contains more appropriate apparel. (3) And he must be certain that the +folded garments that he takes from the drawer are actually those that +he made up his mind to wear. It is a good thing, similarly, to change +one's mind. But the thing must be done very deliberately, and even +with scientific precision, or a man may make himself perfectly +ridiculous. Let me produce a pair of illustrations, one from Boswell, +which is good; and one from the Bible, which is better. + +(1) Dr. Samuel Johnson was a frequent visitor at the house of Mr. +Richardson, the famous novelist. One day, whilst Johnson was there, +Hogarth called. Hogarth soon started a discussion with Mr. Richardson +as to the justice of the execution of Dr. Cameron. 'While he was +talking, he perceived a person standing at a window in the room, +shaking his head, and rolling himself about in a strange, ridiculous +manner. He concluded that he was _an idiot_, whom his relations had +put under the care of Mr. Richardson, as being a very good man. To his +great surprise, however, this figure stalked forwards to where he and +Mr. Richardson were sitting, and all at once took up the argument. He +displayed such a power of eloquence that Hogarth looked at him with +astonishment, and actually imagined that he was _inspired_.' Thus far +Boswell. + +(2) Paul was shipwrecked, as everybody knows, at Malta. He was +gathering sticks for the fire, when a viper, thawed by the warm flesh +and the fierce flame, fastened on his finger. When the natives saw the +snake hanging on his hand, they regarded it as a judgement, and said +that no doubt he was a _murderer_. But when they saw that he was none +the worse for the bite, 'they changed their minds, and said that he was +_a god_!' + +Hogarth thought Johnson was a _lunatic_. He changed his mind, and said +he was _inspired_! + +The Maltese thought Paul was a _murderer_. They changed their minds, +and said he was a _god_! + +They were all wrong, and always wrong. It is the case of my poor +absent-minded friend over again. It was quite clear that his clothes +wanted changing, but he put on the wrong suit. It was evident that +Hogarth's verdict on Johnson wanted revising, but he rushed from Scylla +to Charybdis. It was manifest that the Maltese view of Paul needed +correcting, but they swung, like a pendulum, from one ludicrous extreme +to the opposite. In each case, the hero reappears, wearing the wrong +clothes. In each case he only makes himself ridiculous. If my mind +wants changing, I must be very cautious as to the way in which I do it. + +And, of course, a man _must_ sometimes change both his clothes and his +mind--his _mind_ at any rate. How can you go to a conjuring +entertainment, for example, without changing your mind a hundred times +in the course of the performance? For a second you think that the +vanished billiard ball is _here_. Then, in a trice, you change your +mind, and conclude that it is _there_! First, you believe that, +appearances notwithstanding, the magician really has _no_ hat in his +hand. Then, in a flash, you change your mind, and you fancy he has +_two_! You think for a moment that the clever trick is done in _this_ +way, and then you become certain that it is done in _that_! I once +witnessed in London a very clever artist, who walked up and down the +stage, passing midway behind a screen. And as he reappeared on the +other side, after having been hidden from sight for only a fraction of +a second, he was differently dressed. He stepped behind the screen a +soldier, and emerged a policeman. He disappeared a huntsman, he +reappeared a clergyman. He went a convict, he came again a sailor. He +wore a score of uniforms in almost as many seconds. + +I began by saying that changing your mind is for all the world like +changing your clothes. It is less tedious, however. I have no idea +how my London friend managed to change his garments many times in a +minute. But many a magician has made me change my mind at a lightning +pace. Yes, many a magician. For the universe is, after all, a kind of +magic. The wand of the wizard is at its wonderful work. It is the +highest type of legerdemain. It is very weird and very wonderful, a +thing of marvel and of mystery. No man can sit down and gaze for five +minutes with wide open eyes upon God's worlds without changing his mind +at least five times. The man who never changes his mind will soon +discover to his shame that he is draped in intellectual rags and +tatters. + +I rather think that Macaulay's illustration is as good as any. 'A +traveller,' he says in his essay on Sir James Mackintosh, 'falls in +with a berry which he has never before seen. He tastes it, and finds +it sweet and refreshing. He presses it, and resolves to introduce it +into his own country. But in a few minutes he is taken violently sick; +he is convulsed; he is at the point of death. He, of course, changes +his mind, pronounces this delicious food a poison, blames his own folly +in tasting it, and cautions his friends against it. After a long and +violent struggle he recovers, and finds himself much exhausted by his +sufferings, but free from chronic complaints which had been the torment +of his life. He then changes his mind again, and pronounces this fruit +a very powerful remedy, which ought to be employed only in extreme +cases, and with great caution, but which ought not to be absolutely +excluded from the Pharmacopoeia. Would it not be the height of +absurdity to call such a man fickle and inconsistent because he had +repeatedly altered his judgement?' Of course it would. A man cannot +go all through life wearing the same suit of clothes. For two reasons. +It will not always fit, and it will wear out. And, in precisely the +same way, and for identically similar reasons, a man must sometimes +change his opinions. It is refreshing to think of Augustine carefully +compiling a list of the mistakes that had crept into his writings, so +that he might take every opportunity of repudiating and correcting +them. I never consult my copies of Archbishop Trench's great works on +_The Parables_ and _The Miracles_ without glancing, always with a glow +of admiration, at that splendid sentence with which the 'Publisher's +Note' concludes: 'The author never allowed his books to be stereotyped, +in order that he might constantly improve them, and permanence has only +become possible now that his diligent hand can touch the work no more.' +That always strikes me as being very fine. + +But the thing must be done methodically. Let me not rush upstairs and +change either my clothes or my mind for the mere sake of making a +change. Nor must I tumble into the first suit that I happen to +find--in either wardrobe. When I reappear, the change must commend +itself to the respect, if not the admiration, of my fellows. I do not +want men to laugh at my change as we have laughed at these Maltese +natives, at old Hogarth, and at my absent-minded friend. I want to be +quite sure that the clothes that I doff are the wrong clothes, and that +the clothes that I don are the right ones. + +Mr. Gladstone once thought out very thoroughly this whole question as +to how frequently and how radically a man may change his mental outfit +without forfeiting the confidence of those who have come to value his +judgements. And, as a result of that hard thinking, the great man +reached half a dozen very clear and very concise conclusions. (1) He +concluded that a change of front is very often not only permissible but +creditable. 'A change of mind,' he says, 'is a sign of life. If you +are alive, you must change. It is only the dead who remain the same. +I have changed my point of view on a score of subjects, and my +convictions as to many of them.' (2) He concluded that a great change, +involving a drastic social cleavage, not unlike a change in religion, +should certainly occur not more than once in a lifetime. (3) He +concluded that a great and cataclysmic change should never be sudden or +precipitate. (4) He concluded that no change ought to be characterized +by a contemptuous repudiation of old memories and old associations. +(5) He concluded that no change ought to be regarded as final or worthy +of implicit confidence if it involved the convert in temporal gain or +worldly advantage. (6) And he concluded that any change, to command +respect, must be frankly confessed, and not be hooded, slurred over, or +denied. + +All this is good, as far as it goes. But even Mr. Gladstone must not +be too hard on sudden and cataclysmic changes. What about Saul on the +road to Damascus? What about Augustine that morning in his garden? +What about Brother Laurence and the dry tree? What about Stephen +Grellet in the American forest? What about Luther on Pilate's +staircase? What about Bunyan and Newton, Wesley and Spurgeon? What +about the tales that Harold Begbie tells? And what about the work of +General Booth? Professor James, in his _Varieties of Religious +Experience_, has a good deal to say that would lead Mr. Gladstone to +yet one more change of mind concerning the startling suddenness with +which the greatest of all changes may be precipitated. + +And this, too, must be said. Every wise man has, locked away in his +heart, a few treasures that he will never either give or sell or +exchange. It is a mistake to suppose that all our opinions are open to +revision. They are not. There are some things too sacred to be always +open to scrutiny and investigation. No self-respecting man will spend +his time inquiring as to his wife's probity and honour. He makes up +his mind as to that when he marries her; and henceforth that question +is settled. It is not open to review. He would feel insulted if an +investigation were suggested. It is only the small things of life that +we are eternally questioning. We are reverently restful and serenely +silent about the biggest things of all. A man does not discuss his +wife's virtue or his soul's salvation on the kerbstone. The martyrs +all went to their deaths with brave hearts and morning faces, because +they were not prepared to reconsider or review the greatest decision +they had ever made. There are some things on which no wise man will +think of changing his mind. And he will decline to contemplate a +change because he knows that his wardrobe holds no better garb. It is +of no use doffing the robes of princes to don the rags of paupers. +'Eighty and six years have I served Christ,' exclaimed the triumphant +Polycarp; and he mounted the heavens in wreathing smoke and leaping +flame rather than change his mind after so long and so lovely an +experience. + + + + +IV + +'PITY MY SIMPLICITY!' + +It was a sultry summer's day a hundred and fifty years ago, and John +Wesley was on the rocky road to Dublin. 'The wind being in my face, +tempering the heat of the sun, I had a pleasant ride to Dublin. In the +evening I began expounding the deepest part of the Holy Scripture, +namely, the First Epistle of John, by which, above all other, even +above all other inspired writings, I advise every young preacher to +form his style. Here are sublimity and simplicity together, the +strongest sense and the plainest language! How can any one that would +speak as the oracles of God use harder words than are to be found +here?' With which illuminating extract from the great man's journal we +may dismiss him, the road to Dublin, and the text from which he +preached in the Irish capital, all together. I have no further +business with any of them. The thing that concerns me is the +suggestive declaration, made by the most experienced preacher of all +time, that _sublimity_ and _simplicity_ always go hand in hand. Here, +in this deepest part of Holy Scripture, says the master, are sublimity +and simplicity together. 'By this, above all other writings, I advise +every preacher to form his style. How can any one that would speak as +the oracles of God use harder words than are to be found here?' Such +words from such a source are like apples of gold in pictures of silver, +and I am thankful that I chanced to come upon the great man that hot +July night in Dublin, and gather this distilled essence of wisdom as it +fell from his eloquent lips. + +I have often wondered why we teach children to pray that their +simplicity may be pitied. + + Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, + Look upon a little child! + Pity my simplicity! + Suffer me to come to Thee! + +Why 'pity my simplicity'? It is the one thing about a little child +that is really sublime, sublimity and simplicity being, as we learned +at Dublin, everlastingly inseparable. Pity my simplicity! Why, it is +the sweet simplicity of a little child that we all admire and love and +covet! Pity my simplicity! Why, it is the unspoiled and sublime +simplicity of this little child of mine that takes my heart by storm +and carries everything before it. And, depend upon it, the heart of +the divine Father is affected not very differently. This soft, sweet +little white-robed thing that kneels on my knee, with its arms around +my neck, lisping its + + Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, + Look upon a little child! + Pity my simplicity! + Suffer me to come to Thee! + +shames me by its very sublimity. It outstrips me, transcends me, and +leaves me far behind. It soars whilst I grovel; it flies whilst I +creep. That is what Jesus meant when He took a little child and set +him in the midst of the disciples and said, 'Whosoever shall humble +himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of +heaven!' The simplest, He meant, is always the sublimest. And it was +because the great Methodist had so perfectly caught the spirit of his +great Master that he declared so confidently that night at Dublin, +'Simplicity and sublimity lie here together!' + +It is always and everywhere the same. In literature sublimity is +represented by the poet. What could be more sublime than the inspired +imagination of Milton? And yet, and yet! The very greatest of all our +literary critics, in his essay on Milton, feels it incumbent upon him +to point out that imagination is essentially the domain of childhood. +'Of all people,' he says, 'children are the most imaginative. They +abandon themselves without reserve to every illusion. Every image +which is strongly presented to their mental eye produces on them the +effect of reality. No man, whatever his sensibility may be, is ever +affected by Hamlet or Lear as a little girl is affected by the story of +poor Red Ridinghood. She knows that it is all false, that wolves +cannot speak, that there are no wolves in England. Yet, in spite of +the knowledge, she believes; she weeps; she trembles; she dares not go +into a dark room lest she should feel the teeth of the monster at her +throat.' And from these premisses, Macaulay proceeds to his inevitable +conclusion. 'He who, in an enlightened and literary society, aspires +to be a great poet must,' he says, 'first become a little child. He +must take to pieces the whole web of his mind. He must unlearn much of +that knowledge which has perhaps constituted hitherto his chief title +to superiority. His very talents will be a hindrance to him. His +difficulties will be proportioned to his proficiency in the pursuits +which are fashionable among his contemporaries; and that proficiency +will in general be proportioned to the vigour and activity of his +mind.' Could there be any finer comment on the words of the Master? + +'Simplicity and sublimity always go together!' said John Wesley that +hot July night at Dublin. + +'Whosoever shall humble himself as this little child, the same is the +greatest in the kingdom of heaven!' said the Master on that memorable +day in Galilee. + +'He who aspires to be a great poet must first become a little child!' +says Lord Macaulay in his incomparable essay on Milton. + +I have carefully put the Master in His old place. He is _in the +midst_, with the very greatest of our modern apostles on the one side +of Him, and the very greatest of our modern historians on the other. +But they are all three of them saying the same thing, each in his own +way. It is a pity that we teach our children that the sublimest thing +about them--their simplicity--is a thing of which they need to be +ashamed. And the way in which their tiny tongues stumble over the +great word seems to show that, following a true instinct, they do not +take kindly to that clause in their bedtime prayer. + +I am told that, away beyond the Never-Never ranges, there is a church +from which the children are excluded before the sermon begins. I wish +my informant had not told me of its existence. I am not often troubled +with nightmare, my supper being quite a frugal affair. But just +occasionally I find myself a victim of the terror by night. And when I +am mercifully awakened, and asked why I am gasping so horribly and +perspiring so freely, I have to confess that I was dreaming that I had +somehow become the minister of that childless congregation. As is +usual after nightmare, I look round with a sense of inexpressible +thankfulness on discovering that it was only a horrid dream. An +appointment to such a charge would be to me a most fearsome and +terrifying prospect. I could not trust myself. In a way, I envy the +man who can hold his own under such circumstances. His transcendent +powers enable him to preserve his sturdy humanness of character, his +charming simplicity of diction, his graphic picturesqueness of phrase, +and his exquisite winsomeness of behaviour without the extraneous +assistance which the children render to some of us. But _I_ could not +do it. I should go all to pieces. And so, when I dream that I have +entered a pulpit from which I can survey no roguish young faces and +mischievous wide-open eyes, I fancy I am ruined and undone. I watch +with consternation as the little people file out during the hymn before +the sermon, and I know that the sermon is doomed. The children in the +congregation are my salvation. + +I fancy that the custom to which I have referred was in vogue in the +church to which the Rev. Bruno Leathwaite Chilvers ministered. +Everybody knows Mr. Chilvers; at least everybody who loves George +Gissing knows that very excellent gentleman. Mr. Chilvers loved to +adorn his dainty discourses with certain words of strangely +grandiloquent sound. '"Nullifidian," "morbific," "renascent"--these +were among his favourites. Once or twice he spoke of "psychogenesis" +with an emphatic enunciation which seemed to invite respectful wonder. +In using Latin words which have become fixed in the English language, +he generally corrected the common errors of quantity and pronounced +words as nobody else did. He often alluded to French and German +authors in order that he might recite French and German quotations.' +And so on. Poor Mr. Chilvers! I am sure that the little children +filed out during the hymn before the sermon. No man with a scrap of +imagination could look into the dimpled face of a little girl I know +and hurl 'nullifidian' at her. No man could look down into a certain +pair of sparkling eyes that are wonderfully familiar to me and talk +about things as 'morbific' or 'renascent.' If only the little tots had +kept their seats for the sermon, it would have saved poor Mr. Chilvers +from committing such atrocities. As it is, they went and he collapsed. +Can anybody imagine John Wesley talking to his summer-evening crowd at +Dublin about 'nullifidian,' or quoting German? I will say nothing of +the Galilean preacher. The common people heard _Him_ gladly. He was +so simple and therefore so sublime. As Sir Edwin Arnold says: + + The simplest sights He met-- + The Sower flinging seed on loam and rock; + The darnel in the wheat; the mustard-tree + That hath its seeds so little, and its boughs + Widespreading; and the wandering sheep; and nets + Shot in the wimpled waters--drawing forth + Great fish and small--these, and a hundred such, + Seen by us daily, never seen aright, + Were pictures for Him from the page of life, + Teaching by parable. + +Therein lay the sublimity of it all. + +A little child, especially a little child of a distinctly restless and +mischievous propensity, is really a great help to a minister, and it is +a shame to deprive the good man of such assistance. It is only by such +help that some of us can hope to approximate to real sublimity. Lord +Beaconsfield used to say that, in making after-dinner speeches, he kept +his eye on the waiters. If they were unmoved, he knew that he was in +the realms of mediocrity. But when they grew excited and waved their +napkins, he knew that he was getting home. Lord Cockburn, who was for +some time Lord Chief Justice of Great Britain, when asked for the +secret of his extraordinary success at the bar, replied sagely, 'When I +was addressing a jury, I invariably picked out the stupidest-looking +fellow of the lot, and addressed myself specially to him--for this good +reason: I knew that if I convinced him I should be sure to carry all +the rest!' Dr. Thomas Guthrie, in addressing gatherings of ministers, +used to tell this story of Lord Cockburn with immense relish, and +earnestly commended its philosophy to their consideration. I was +reading the other day that Dr. Boyd Carpenter, formerly Bishop of Ripon +and now Canon of Westminster, on being asked if he felt nervous when +preaching before Queen Victoria, replied, 'I never address the Queen at +all. I know there will be present the Queen, the Princes, the +household, and the servants down to the scullery-maid, and _I preach to +the scullery-maid_.' Little children do not attend political dinners +such as Lord Beaconsfield adorned; nor Courts of Justice such as Lord +Cockburn addressed; nor Royal chapels like that in which Dr. Boyd +Carpenter officiated. And, in the absence of the children, the only +chance of reaching sublimity that offered itself to these unhappy +orators lay in making good use of the waiter, the stupid juryman, and +the scullery-maid. If the Rev. Bruno Leathwaite Chilvers really cannot +induce the children to abandon the bad habit in which they have been +trained, I urge him, as a friend and a brother, to adopt the same +ingenious expedient. But if he can get on the right side of a little +child, persuade him to sit the sermon out, and vow that he will look +straight into that bright little face, and say no word that will not +interest that tiny listener, I promise him that before long people will +say that his sermons are simply sublime. Robert Louis Stevenson knew +what he was doing when he discussed every sentence of _Treasure Island_ +with his schoolboy step-son before giving it its final form. It was by +that wise artifice that one of the greatest stories in our language +came to be written. + +The fact, of course, is that in the soul's sublimest moments it hungers +for simplicity. One of Du Maurier's great _Punch_ cartoons represented +a honeymoon conversation between a husband and wife who had both +covered themselves with glory at Cambridge. And the conversation ran +along these highly intellectual lines: + +'What would Lovey do if Dovey died?' + +'Oh, Lovey would die too!' + +There is a world of philosophy behind the nonsense. We do not make +love in the language of the psychologist; we make love in the language +of the little child. When life approaches to sublimity, it always +expresses itself with simplicity. In the depth of mortal anguish, or +at the climax of human joy, we do not use a grandiloquent and +incomprehensible phraseology. We talk in monosyllables. As we grow +old, and draw near to the gates of the grave, we become more and more +simple. In his declining years, John Newton wrote, 'When I was young I +was sure of many things. There are only two things of which I am sure +now; one is that I am a miserable sinner, and the other that Christ is +an all-sufficient Saviour.' What is this but the soul garbing itself +in the most perfect simplicities as the only fitting raiment in which +it can greet the everlasting sublimities? + +'Here are sublimity and simplicity together!' exclaimed John Wesley on +that hot July night at Dublin. 'How can any one that would speak as +the oracles of God use harder words than are to be found here? By this +I advise every young preacher to form his style!' + +'He who aspires to be a great poet--as sublime as Milton--must first +become a little child!' declares the greatest of all littérateurs. + +'Whosoever shall humble himself as this little child, the same is +greatest in the kingdom of heaven!' says the Master Himself, taking a +little child and setting him in the midst of them. + +'_Pity my simplicity!_' pleads this little thing with its soft arms +round my neck. + +'_Give me that simplicity!_' say I. + + + + +V + +TUNING FROM THE BASS + +I am about to say a good word for Fear. Fear is a fine thing, a very +fine thing; and the world would be a poor place without it. Fear was +one of our firmest but gentlest nurses. Terror was one of our sternest +but kindest teachers. A very wise man once said that the fear of the +Lord is the beginning of wisdom. He might have left out the august and +holy Name, and still have stated a tremendous fact; for fear is always +the beginning of wisdom. + +'No fears, no grace!' said James, in the second part of the _Pilgrim's +Progress_, and Mr. Greatheart seemed of pretty much the same opinion. +They were discussing poor Mr. Fearing. + +'Mr. Fearing,' said Greatheart, 'was one that played upon the bass. +Some say that the bass is the ground of music. The first string that +the musician touches is the bass, when he intends to put all in tune. +God also plays upon this string first, when He sets the soul in tune +for Himself. Only here was the imperfection of Mr. Fearing: he could +play upon no other music but this, till towards his latter end.' + +Here, then, we have the principle stated as well as it is possible to +state it. You must tune from the bass, for the bass is the basis of +music. But you must rise from the bass, as a building must rise from +its foundations, or the music will be a moan and a monotone. The fear +of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; but the wisdom that gets no +farther is like music that rumbles and reverberates in one everlasting +bass. + +But the finest exposition of the inestimable value of fear is not by +John Bunyan. It is by Jack London. _White Fang_ is the greatest story +of the inner life of an animal that has ever been contributed to our +literature. And Jack London, who seems to have got into the very soul +of a wolf, shows us how the wonderful character of White Fang was +moulded and fashioned by fear. First there was the mere physical fear +of Pain; the dread of hurting his tender little nose as the tiny grey +cub explored the dark recesses of the lair; the horror of his mother's +paw that smote him down whenever he approached the mouth of the cave; +and, later on, the fear of the steep bank, learned by a terrible fall; +the fear of the yielding water, learned by attempting to walk upon it; +and the fear of the ptarmigan's beak and the weasel's teeth, learned by +robbing their respective nests. + +And following on the physical fear of _Pain_ came the reverential fear +of _Power_. 'His mother represented Power,' Jack London says, 'and as +he grew older he felt this power in the sharper admonition of her paw, +while the reproving nudge of her nose gave place to the slash of her +fangs. For this he respected his mother.' And afterwards, when he +came upon the Red Indians, and saw men for the first time, a still +greater fear possessed him. Here were creatures who made the very +sticks and stones obey them! They seemed to him as gods, and he felt +that he must worship and serve them. And, later still, when he saw +white men living, not in wigwams, but in great palaces of stone, he +trembled as he had never trembled before. These were superior gods; +and, as everybody knows, White Fang passed from fearing them to knowing +them, and from knowing them to loving them. And at last he became +their fond, devoted slave. It is true that fear was to White Fang only +_the beginning_ of wisdom; but that is precisely what Solomon says. +Afterwards the brave old wolf learned fearlessness; but the early +lessons taught by fear were still of priceless value, for to courage +they added caution; and courage wedded to caution is irresistible. + +We are living in times that are wonderfully meek and mild; and Fear, +the stern old schoolmaster, is looked upon with suspicion. It is +curious how we reverse the fashions of our ancestors. We flaunt in +shameless abandon what they veiled in blushing modesty; but we make up +for it by hiding what they had no hesitation in displaying. Our teeth, +for example. It is considered the depth of impropriety to show your +teeth nowadays, except in the sense in which actresses show them on +post cards. But our forefathers were not afraid of showing their +teeth, and they made themselves feared and honoured and loved in +consequence. Yes, feared and honoured and loved; for I gravely doubt +if any man ever yet taught others to honour and love him who had not +first taught them on occasion to fear him. + +The best illustration of what I mean occurs in the story of the Irish +movement. In the politics of the last century there has been nothing +so dramatic, nothing so pathetic, and nothing so tragic as the story of +the rise and fall of Parnell. Lord Morley's tense and vivid chapters +on that phase of modern statesmanship are far more thrilling and far +more affecting than a similar number of pages of any novel in the +English language. With the tragic fall of the Irish leader we need not +now concern ourselves. But how are we to account for the meteoric rise +of Parnell, and for the phenomenal power that he wielded? For years he +was the most effective figure in British politics. There is only one +explanation; and it is the explanation upon which practically all the +historians of that period agree. Charles Stewart Parnell made it the +first article of his creed that he must make himself feared. His +predecessor in the leadership of the Irish party was Isaac Butt. Mr. +Butt believed in conciliation. He was opposed to 'a policy of +exasperation.' He thought that, if the Irishmen in the House exercised +patience, and considered the convenience of the two great political +parties, they would appeal to the good sense of the British people and +ensure the success of their cause. And in return--to quote from Mr. +Winston Churchill's life of his father--the two great parties treated +Mr. Butt and the Irish members with 'that form of respect which, being +devoid of the element of fear, is closely akin to contempt.' Then +arose Parnell. He held that the Irishmen must make themselves the +terror of the nation. They must embarrass and confuse the English +leaders, and throw the whole political machinery of both parties +hopelessly out of gear. And in a few months Mr. Parnell made the Irish +question the supreme question in the mind of the nation, and became for +years the most hated and the most beloved personality on the +parliamentary horizon. Nobody who knows the history of that troublous +time can doubt that, but for the moral shipwreck of Parnell, a +shipwreck that nearly broke Mr. Gladstone's heart, the whole Irish +question would have been settled, for better or for worse, twenty years +ago. With the merits or demerits of his cause I am not now dealing; +but everybody who has read Lord Morley's _Life of Gladstone_ or Mr. +Barry O'Brien's _Life of Parnell_ must have been impressed by this +striking and dramatic picture of a lonely and extraordinary man +espousing an apparently hopeless cause, deliberately selecting fear as +the weapon of his warfare, and actually leading his little band of +astonished followers within sight of victory. + +It is ridiculous to say that fear possesses no moral value. Whenever I +hear that contention stated, my mind invariably swings back to a great +story told by Sir Henry Hawkins in his _Reminiscences_. He is telling +of his experiences under Mr. Justice Maule, and is praising the +judicial perspicacity of that judge. In a certain murder case a boy of +eight was called to give evidence, and counsel objected to so youthful +a witness being heard. Mr. Justice Maule thought for a minute, and +then beckoned the boy to the bench. + +'"I should like to know," His Honour observed, "what you have been +taught to believe. What will become of you, my little boy, when you +die, if you are so wicked as to tell a lie?"' + +'"Hell-fire!" answered the boy with great promptitude. + +'"But do you mean to say," the judge went on, "that you would go to +hell-fire for telling any lie?" + +'"Hell-fire, sir!" the boy replied again. + +'To several similar questions the boy made the same terrible response. + +'"He does not seem to be competent," said the counsel. + +'"I beg your pardon," returned the judge. "This boy thinks that for +every wilful fault he will go to hell-fire; and he is very likely while +he believes that doctrine to be most strict in his observance of truth. +If you and I believed that such would be the penalty for every act of +misconduct we committed, we should be better men than we are. Let the +boy be sworn!"' + +Sir Henry Hawkins tells the story with evident approval, so that we +have here the valuable testimony of two distinguished judges to the +moral value of fear from a purely judicial point of view. Of course, +the value is not stable or permanent. The goodness that arises from +fear is like the tameness of a terrified tiger, or the willingness of a +wolf to leave the deer unharmed when both are flying from before a +prairie-fire. When the fear passes, the blood-lust will return. But +that is not the point. Nobody said that fear was wisdom. What the +wise man said was that fear is _the beginning_ of wisdom. And as the +beginning of wisdom it has a certain initial and preparatory value. +The sooner that the beginning is developed and brought to a climax, the +better of course it will be. But meanwhile a beginning is something. +It is a step in the right direction. It is the learning of the +alphabet. It is the earnest and promise of much that is to come. + +Now if the Church refuses to employ this potent weapon, she is very +stupid. A beginning is only a beginning, but it is a beginning. If we +ignore the element of terror, we are deliberately renouncing a force +which, in the wilds and in the world, is of really first-class value +and importance. I am not now saying that the ministry would be untrue +to its high calling if it failed to warn men with gravity and with +tears. That is a matter of such sacredness and solemnity that I +hesitate to touch it here; although it is obvious that, under any +conceivable method of interpretation, there is a terrible note of +urgency in the New Testament that no pulpit can decline, without grave +responsibility, to echo. But I am content to point out here that, from +a purely tactical point of view, the Church would be very foolish to +scout this valuable weapon. The element of fear is one of the great +primal passions, and to all those deep basic human elements the gospel +makes its peculiar appeal. And the fears of men must be excited. The +music cannot be all bass; but the bass note must not be absent, or the +music will be ruined. + +There are still those who, far from being cowards, may, like Noah, be +'moved with fear' to the saving of their houses. Cardinal Manning +tells in his Journal how, as a boy at Tetteridge, he read again and +again of the lake that burneth with fire. 'These words,' he says, +'became fixed in my mind, and kept me as boy and youth and man in the +midst of all evil. I owe to them more than will ever be known to the +last day.' And Archbishop Benson used to tell of a working man who was +seen looking at a placard announcing a series of addresses on 'The Four +Last Things.' After he had read the advertisement he turned to a +companion and asked, 'Where would you and I have been without hell?' +And the Archbishop used to inquire whether, if we abandoned the +legitimate appeal to human fear, we should not need some other motive +in our preaching to fill the vacant place. + +I know, of course, that all this may be misconstrued. But the wise +will understand. The naturalist will not blame me, for fear is the +life of the forest. The humanitarian can say no word of censure, for +fear is intensely human. But the preacher who strikes this deep bass +note must strike it very soulfully. No man should be able to speak on +such things except with a sob in his throat and tears in his eyes. We +must warn men to flee from the wrath to come; but that wrath is the +wrath of a Lamb. Andrew Bonar one day told Murray McCheyne that he had +just preached a sermon on hell. 'And were you able to preach it with +tenderness?' McCheyne wistfully inquired. Fear is part of that +wondrous instrument on all the chords of which the minister is called +at times to play; but this chord must be struck with trembling fingers. + +No mistake can be more fatal than to set off this aspect of things +against more attractive themes. All truth is related. Some years ago +in Scotland an express train stopped abruptly on a curve in the time of +a great flood. Just in front of the train was a roaring chasm from +which the viaduct had been swept away. Just behind the train was the +mangled frame of the girl who had warned the driver. _It is impossible +to understand that sacrifice lying just behind the guard's van unless +you have seen the yawning chasm just in front of the engine!_ + +'No fears, no grace!' said James. + +'And this I took very great notice of,' said Mr. Greatheart, 'that the +Valley of the Shadow of Death was as quiet while Mr. Fearing went +through it as ever I knew it before or since; and when he came to the +river without a bridge, I took notice of what was very remarkable; the +water of that river was lower at this time than ever I saw it in all my +life. So he went over at last, not much above wet shod.' + +Fear had done its work, and done it well. The bass notes had proved +the foundation of a music that blended at last with the very harmonies +of heaven. Fear, even with White Fang, led on to love; and perfect +love casteth out fear. + + + + +VI + +A FRUITLESS DEPUTATION + +It was in New Zealand, and I was attending my first Conference. I had +only a month or two earlier entered the Christian ministry. I dreaded +the Assembly of my grave and reverend seniors. With becoming modesty, +I stole quietly into the hall and occupied a back seat. From this +welcome seclusion, however, I was rudely summoned to receive the right +hand of fellowship from the President. Then I once more plunged into +the outer darkness of oblivion and obscurity. Here I remained until +once again I was electrified at the sound of my own name. It seemed +that the sorrows of dissension had overtaken a tiny church in a remote +bush district. One of the oldest and most revered members, the father +of a very large family and the leader of the little brotherhood, had +intimated his intention of withdrawing from fellowship and of joining +another denomination. This formidable secession had thrown the little +congregation into helpless confusion, and an appeal was made to the +courts of the denomination. The letter was read; and the secretary +stated briefly and succinctly the facts of the situation. And then, to +my amazement, he closed by moving that Mr. William Forbury and myself +be appointed a deputation to visit the district, to advise the church, +and to report to Conference. Mr. Forbury, he explained, was a father +in Israel. His grey hairs commanded reverence; whilst his ripe +experience and sound judgement would be invaluable to the small and +troubled community. So far, so good. His reasoning seemed +irresistible. But he went on to say that he had included my name +because I was an absolute stranger. I knew nothing of the internal +disputes that had rent the church. My very freshness would give me a +position of impartiality that older men could not claim. Moreover, he +argued, the visit to a bush congregation, and the insight into its +peculiar difficulties, would be a useful experience for me. I felt +that I could not decently decline; but I confidently expected that the +proposal would be challenged and probably rejected. To my +astonishment, however, it was seconded and carried. And nothing +remained but to arrange with Mr. Forbury the date of our delegation. + +The day came, and we set out. It took the train just four hours to +convey us to the lonely station from which we emerged upon a wilderness +of green bush and a maze of muddy tracks. Mr. Forbury had visited the +district frequently, and knew it well. We called upon several settlers +in the course of the afternoon, taking dinner with one, and afternoon +tea with another. And then we proceeded to the home of the seceder. +The place seemed alive with young people. The house swarmed with +children. + +'How are you, John?' inquired my companion. + +'Ah, William, glad to see you; how are you?' + +They made an interesting study, these two old men. Their forms were +bent with long years of hard and honourable toil. Their faces were +rugged and weatherbeaten, wrinkled with age, and furrowed with care. +They had come out together from the Homeland years and years ago. They +had borne each other's burdens, and shared each other's confidences, +through all the days of their pilgrimage. Their thoughts of each other +were mingled with all the memories of their courtships, their weddings, +and their earlier struggles. A thousand tender and sacred associations +were interwoven, in the mind of each, with the name of the other. When +fortune had smiled, they had delighted in each other's prosperity. In +times of shadow, each had hastened to the other's side. They had +walked together, talked together, laughed together, wept together, +and--very, very often--prayed together. They had been as David and +Jonathan, and the soul of the one was knit to the soul of the other. +Hundreds of times, before the one had come to settle in this new +district, they had walked to the house of God in company. And now a +matter of doctrine had intervened. And, with such men, a matter of +doctrine is a matter of conscience. And a matter of conscience is the +most stubborn of all obstacles to overcome. I looked into their stern, +expressive faces, and I saw that they were no triflers. A fad had no +charm for either of them. They looked into each other's faces, and +each read the truth. The breach was irreparable. + +We sat in the great farm kitchen until tea-time. I felt it was no +business of mine to broach the affairs that had brought us. Several +times I thought that Mr. Forbury was about to touch the matter. But +each time it was adroitly avoided, and the conversation swerved off in +another direction. Once or twice I felt half inclined to precipitate a +discussion. Indeed, I was in the act of doing so when our hostess +brought in the tea. A snowy cloth, home-made scones, delicious +oat-cake, abundance of cream--how tempting it all was! And how +unattractive ecclesiastical controversy in comparison! We sat there in +the twilight for what seemed like an age, talking of everything under +the sun. Of everything, that is to say, save one thing only. And +there brooded heavily over our spirits the consciousness that we were +avoiding the one and only subject on which we were all really and +deeply thinking. + +After tea came family worship. I was invited to conduct it, and did +so. After reading a psalm from the old farm Bible, we all kneeled +together, the flickering flames of the great log-fire flinging strange +shadows on the whitened wall and rafters as we rose and bowed +ourselves. I caught myself attempting, even in prayer, to make obscure +but fitting reference to the special circumstances that had brought us +together. But the reticence of my companion was contagious. It was +like a bridle on my tongue. The sadness of it all haunted me, and +paralysed my speech; and I swerved off again at every threatened +allusion. We sat on for awhile, they on either side of the roomy +fireplace, and I between them, whilst the good woman and her daughters +washed up the tea-things. The clatter of the dishes, and the babel of +many voices, made it impossible for us to speak freely on the subject +nearest our hearts. At length we rose to go. I noticed, on the part +of my two aged companions, a peculiar reluctance to separate. Each +longed, yet dreaded, to speak. There was evidently so much to be said, +and yet speech seemed so hopeless. + +At last our friend said that he would walk a few steps with us. We +said good-bye to the great household and set off into the night. + +I shall never forget that walk! It was a clear, frosty evening. The +moonlight was radiant. Every twig was tipped with silver. The +smallest object could be seen distinctly. I watched the rabbits as +they popped timidly in and out of the great gorse hedgerows. A hare +went scurrying across the field. I felt all at once that I was an +intruder. What right had I to be in the company of these two aged +brethren in the very crisis of their lifelong friendship? No +Conference on earth could vest me with authority to invade this holy +ground! I made an excuse, and hurried on, walking some distance in +front of them. But the night was so still that, even at that distance, +had a word been uttered I must have heard it. I could hear the clatter +of hoofs on the hard road two miles ahead. I could hear the dogs +barking at a farmhouse twice as far away. I could hear a rabbit +squealing in a trap on the fringe of the bush far behind us. But no +word did I hear. For none was uttered. Side by side they walked on +and on in perfect silence. I once paused and allowed them to approach. +They were crying like children. Stern old Puritans! They were built +of the stuff that martyrs are made of. Either would have died a +hundred deaths rather than have been false to conscience, or to truth, +or to the other. Either would have died a hundred deaths to save the +other from one. Neither could be coaxed or cowed into betraying one +jot or tittle of his heart's best treasure. And each knew, whilst he +trembled for himself, that all this was true of the other as well. +Side by side they walked for miles in that pale and silvery moonlight. +Not one word was spoken. Grief had paralysed their vocal powers; and +their eyes were streaming with another eloquence. They wrung each +other's hands at length, and parted without even saying good-night! + +At the next Conference it was the junior member of the deputation who +presented the report. He simply stated that the delegation had visited +the district without having been able to reconcile the differences that +had arisen in the little congregation. The Assembly formally adopted +the report, and the deputation was thanked for its services. It seemed +a very futile business. And yet one member of that deputation has +always felt that life was strangely enriched by the happenings of that +memorable night. It puts iron into the blood to spend an hour with men +to whom the claim of conscience is supreme, and who love truth with so +deathless an affection that the purest and noblest of other loves +cannot dethrone it. + + + + +VII + +TRAMP! TRAMP! TRAMP + +I + +Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! It was like the regular and rhythmic beat +of a great machine. File after file, column after column, I watched +the troops pass by. Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! On they went, and on, +and on; all in perfect time and step; tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! It +reminded me of that haunting passage that tells us that 'all these men +of war that could keep rank came with a perfect heart to make David +king over all Israel.' _They could keep rank_! It is a suggestive +record. There is more in it than appears on the surface. _They could +keep rank_! Right! Left! Right! Left! Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! +All these men of war _that could keep rank_ came with a perfect heart +to make David king over all Israel. + + +II + +Half the art of life lies in learning to keep step. It is a great +thing--a very great thing--to be able to get on with other people. Let +me indulge in a little autobiography. I once had a most extraordinary +experience, an experience so altogether amazing that all subsequent +experiences appear like the veriest commonplaces in comparison. The +fact is, I was born. Such a thing had never happened to me before, and +I was utterly bewildered. I did not know what to make of it. My first +impression was that I was all alone and that I had the solar system all +to myself. Like Robinson Crusoe, I fancied myself monarch of all I +surveyed. But then, like Robinson Crusoe, I discovered a footprint, +and found that the planet on which I had been so mysteriously cast was +inhabited.. There were two of us--myself and The Other Fellow. + +As soon as I could devise means of locomotion, I set out, like Robinson +Crusoe, to find out what The Other Fellow was like. I had a kind of +instinct that sooner or later I should have to fight him. I found that +he differed from me in one essential particular. He had hundreds of +millions of heads; I had but one. He had hundreds of millions of feet; +hundreds of millions of hands; hundreds of millions of ears and eyes; I +had but two. But for all that, it never occurred to me that he was +greater than I. _Myself_ always appeared to me to be vastly more +important than _The Other Fellow_. It was nothing to me that he +starved so long as I had plenty of food. It was nothing to me that he +shivered so long as I was wrapped up snugly. I do not remember that it +ever once crossed my mind in the first six months of my existence that +it would be a bad thing if he died, with all his hundreds of millions +of heads, and left me all alone upon the planet. I was first, and he +was nowhere. I was everything, and he was nothing. Why, dear me, I +must have cut my first teeth before it occurred to me that there was +room on the planet for both of us; and I must have cut my wisdom teeth +before I discovered that the world was on the whole more interesting to +me because of his presence on it. And since then I have spent some +pains, in a blundering, unskilful kind of a way, in trying to make +myself tolerable to him. And the longer I live the more clearly I see +that, although he is an odd fellow at times, he is very quick to +respond to and reciprocate such advances. He is discovering, as I am, +that walking in step has a pleasure peculiar to itself. + + +III + +I said a moment ago that half the air of life lies in learning to keep +step. Conversely, half the tragedy of life consists in our failure so +to do. Here are Mr. and Mrs. Cardew. All lovers of Mark Rutherford +know them well. They were both of them really excellent people; a +minister and his wife; deeply attached to one another; and yet as +wretched as wretched could be. How are you going to account for it? +It is vastly important just because it is so common. Domestic +difficulties rarely arise out of downright wickedness. Husband and +wife may be as free from all outward fault as poor Mr. and Mrs. Cardew. +Mark Rutherford thinks that Mr. Cardew was chiefly to blame, and his +verdict is probably just. A man takes a considerably longer stride +than a woman; but, for all that, it is still possible, even in these +days of hobble skirts, for man and maid to walk in step, as all true +lovers know. But it can only be managed by his moderating his ungainly +stride to her more modest one, and, perhaps, by her unconsciously +lengthening her step under the invigorating influence of his support. +Which is a parable. Mark Rutherford says that 'Mr. Cardew had not +learned the art of being happy with his wife; he did not know that +happiness is an art; he rather did everything he could do to make the +relationship intolerable. He demanded payment in coin stamped from his +own mint, and if bullion and jewels had been poured before him he would +have taken no heed of them. He did not take into account that what his +wife said and what she felt might not be the same; that persons who +have no great command over language are obliged to make one word do +duty for a dozen; and that, if his wife was defective at one point, +there were in her whole regions of unexplored excellence, of faculties +never encouraged, and an affection to which he offered no response.' +There is more philosophy in the cunning way in which those happy lovers +in the lane accommodate their strides to the comfort of each other than +we have been accustomed to suspect. It is done very easily; it is done +almost unconsciously; but they must be very careful to go on doing it +long after they have left the leafy old lane behind them. + + +IV + +I do not mean to suggest that husbands and wives are sinners above all +people on the face of the earth. By no means. Is there a club, a +society, an office, or a church in the wide, wide world that does not +shelter a most excellent individual whose one and only fault is that he +cannot get on with anybody else? That is, of course, my way of putting +it. It is not his. He would say that nobody else can get on with him. +Which again takes our minds back to the troops. A raw Scotch lad +joined the expeditionary force, and on the first parade day his mother +and sister came proudly down to see him march. Jock, sad to say, was +out of step. At least that is my way of putting it. But it is not the +only way. 'Look, mother!' said his fond sister, 'look, they're a' oot +o' step but our Jock!' It is not for me to decide whether Jock is +right or whether the others are. But since the others are all in step +with each other, I am afraid the presumptive evidence is rather heavily +against Jock. And Jock is well known to all of us. Nobody likes him, +and nobody knows why they don't like him. In many respects he is a +paragon of goodness. He loves his church, or he would not have stuck +to it year in and year out as he has done. He is not self-assertive; +he is quite willing to efface his own personality and be invisible. He +is generous to a fault. Nobody is more eager to do anything for the +general good. And yet nobody likes him. The only thing against him is +that he has never disciplined himself to get on with other people. He +has never tried to accommodate himself to their stride. He can't keep +rank. They're a' oot o' step but our Jock! Poor Jock! + + +V + +I know that out of all this a serious problem emerges. The problem is +this: why should Jock destroy his own personality in order to render +himself an exact replica of every other man in the regiment? Is +individuality an evil thing that must be wiped out and obliterated? +The answer to this objection is that Jock is not asked to sacrifice his +personality; he is asked to sacrifice his angularity. The ideal of +British discipline is, not to turn men into machines, but to preserve +individuality and initiative; and yet, at the same time, to make each +man of as great value to his comrades as is by any means possible. In +the church we do the same. Brown means well, but he is all gush. You +ask him to do a thing. 'Oh, certainly, with the greatest pleasure in +the world!' But you have an awkward feeling that he will undertake a +thousand other duties in the same airy way, and that the chances of his +doing the work, and doing it well, are not rosy. Smith, on the other +hand, is cautious. He, too, means well; but he is unduly scared of +promising more than he can creditably fulfil; and, as a matter of fact, +this bogy frightens him out of doing as much as he might and should. +Now here you have Brown running and Smith crawling. You know perfectly +well that Brown will exhaust himself quite prematurely, and that Smith +will never get there. And between Brown's excited scamper and Smith's +exasperating crawl the main host jogs along at a medium pace. Now +Brown's personality is a delightful thing. You can't help loving him. +His willingness is charming, and his enthusiasm contagious. And +Smith's steady persistence and extreme conscientiousness are most +admirable. They do us all good. But if, whilst preserving and +developing their personalities, we could strip them of their +angularities, and get them to walk in step at one steady and regular +pace--tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp!--we should surely stand a better +chance of making David king over all Israel! + + +VI + +It is all a matter of discipline. The ploughman comes up from the +country with a long ungainly stride. The city man, accustomed to +crowded pavements, comes with a short and mincing step. They are +drilled for a fortnight side by side, and away they go. Right! Left! +Right! Left! Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! The harmony is perfect. +Jock must submit himself to the same rigid process of training. He may +be firmly convinced that the stride of the regiment is too short or too +long. But if, on that ground, he adopts a different one, nobody but +his gentle and admiring little sister will believe that he is right and +they are wrong. Jock's isolated attitude invariably reflects upon +himself. 'The whole regiment is out of step!' he declares, drawing +attention to his different stride. That is too often the trouble with +Jock. 'The members of our Church do not read the Bible!' he says. It +may be sadly true; but it sounds, put in that way, like a claim that he +is the one conscientious and regular Bible-reader among them. 'The +members of our Church do not pray!' he exclaims sadly. It may be that +a call to prayer is urgently needed; but poor Jock puts the thing in +such a light that it appears to be a claim on his part that he alone +knows the way to the Throne of Grace. 'Among the faithless faithful +only he!' 'The members of our Church are not spiritually-minded!' he +bemoans; but somehow, said as he says it, it sounds suspiciously like +an echo of little Jack Horner's 'What a good boy am I!' + +In the correspondence of Elizabeth Fry there occurs a very striking and +suggestive passage. When Mrs. Fry began to meet with great success in +her work among the English prisons, some of the Quakers feared that her +triumphs would engender pride in her own soul and destroy her +spirituality. At last the thing became nauseous and intolerable, and +she wrote, 'The prudent fears that the good have for me try me more +than most things, and I find that it calls for Christian forbearance +not to be a little put out by them. I am confident that we often see +the Martha spirit of criticism enter in, even about spiritual things. +_O Lord, enable us to keep our ranks in righteousness!_' + +Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! + + +VII + +'And Enoch walked with God.' + +'And Noah walked with God.' + +'And Abraham walked with God.' + +'And Moses walked with God.' + +Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! + + +'All these men of war _that could keep rank_ came with a perfect heart +to make David king over all Israel.' + +'O Lord, enable us to keep our ranks in righteousness!' + + + + +VIII + +THE FIRST MATE + +'First officers are often worse than skippers,' remarked the night +watchman in Mr. W. W. Jacobs' _Light Freights_. 'In the first place, +they know they ain't skippers, and that alone is enough to put 'em in a +bad temper, especially if they've 'ad their certificate a good many +years, and can't get a vacancy.' I fancy there is something in the +night watchman's philosophy; and I am therefore writing a word or two +for the special benefit of first mates. I am half inclined to address +it 'to first mates only,' for to second mates, third mates, and other +inferior officers I have nothing to say. But the first mate evokes our +sympathy on the ground that the night watchman states so forcibly, +'First mates know they ain't skippers, and that alone is enough to put +'em in a bad temper.' It is horribly vexatious to be next door to +greatness. An old proverb tells us that a miss is as good as a mile; +but like most proverbs, it is as false as false can be. A mile is ever +so much better than a miss. + +I am fond of cricket, and am president of a certain club. I invariably +attend the matches unless the house happens to be on fire. I have +enough of the sporting instinct to be able to take defeat +cheerfully--if the defeat falls within certain limits. It must not be +so crushing as to be a positive humiliation, nor must it be by so fine +a margin as to constitute itself a tantalization. Of the two, I prefer +the former to the latter. The former can be dismissed under certain +recognized forms. 'The glorious uncertainty of cricket!' you say to +yourself. 'It's all in the game; and the best side in the world +sometimes has an off day!' But, if, after a great struggle, you lose +by a run, you go home thinking uncharitable thoughts of the bowler who +might have prevented the other fellow from making a certain boundary +hit, of the wicket-keeper who might have saved a bye, or of the batsman +who might easily have got a few more runs if he hadn't played such a +ridiculously fluky stroke. To be beaten by a hundred runs is bad, but +bearable; to be beaten by an innings and a hundred runs is humiliating +and horrible; to be beaten by a single run is exasperating and +intolerable. + +The same thing meets us at every turn. A few minutes ago I picked up +the _Life of Lord Randolph Churchill_, by his son. In the very first +chapter there is a letter written by Dr. Creighton to the Duchess of +Marlborough commiserating her ladyship on the fact that Lord Randolph +had been placed in the second class at the December examinations at +Oxford. 'I must own,' the Bishop writes, 'that I was sorry when I +heard how narrowly Lord Randolph missed the first class; a few more +questions answered, and a few more omissions in some of his papers, and +he would have secured it. He was, I am told by the examiners, the best +man who was put into the second class; and the great hardship is, as +your Grace observes, that he should be in the same class with so many +who are greatly his inferior in knowledge and ability. It is rather +tantalizing to think that he came so near; _if he had been farther off +I should have been more content_.' Now that is exactly the misery of +the first mate. He is so near to being a skipper, so very near. He +even carries continually in his pocket the official papers that certify +that he is fully qualified to be a skipper. And yet, for all that, he +is not a skipper. Sometimes, indeed, he fancies that he will never be +a skipper. It is very trying. I am sorry--genuinely sorry--for the +first mate. What can I say to help him? + +Perhaps the thing that he will most appreciate is a reminder of the +tremendous debt that the world owes to its first mates. I was reading +the other day Dasent's great _Life of Delane_. Among the most striking +documents printed in these five volumes are the letters that Delane +wrote from the seat of war during the struggle in the Crimea to the +substitute who occupied his own editorial chair in the office of _The +Times_. And the whole burden of those letters is to show that England +was saved in those days by a first mate. 'The admiral,' he says in one +letter, 'is by no means up to his position. The real commander is +Lyons, who is just another Nelson--full of energy and activity.' Two +days later, he says again, 'Nothing but the energy and determination of +Sir E. Lyons overcame the difficulties and "impossibilities" raised by +those who seem to have always a consistent objection to doing anything +until their "to-morrow" shall arrive. All the credit is due to him, +and to him alone, for our admiral never left his ship, which was +anchored three miles from the shore, and contented himself with sending +the same contingent of men and boats as the other ships.' And, writing +again after the landing had been effected, Delane says, 'Remember +always, that, in the great credit which the success of this landing +deserves, Dundas has no share. Lyons has done all, and this in spite +of discouragement such as a smaller man would have resented. Nelson +could not have done better, and, indeed, his case at Copenhagen nearly +resembles this.' Here, then, is a feather in the cap of the first +mate. He may often save a vital situation which, in the hands of a +dilatory skipper, might easily have been lost. The skipper is skipper, +and knows it. He is at the top of the tree, and there remains nothing +to struggle after. He is apt to rest on his laurels and lose his +energy. This subtle tendency is the first mate's opportunity. The +ship must not be lost because the skipper goes to sleep. Everything, +at such an hour, depends on the first mate. + +Nor is it only in time of war and of crisis that the first mate comes +to his own. In the arts of peace the selfsame principle holds good. +What could our literature have done without the first mate? And in the +republic of letters the first mate is usually a woman. It is only +quite lately that women have, to any appreciable extent, applied +themselves to the tasks and responsibilities of authorship. Until well +into the eighteenth century, Mrs. Grundy scowled out of countenance any +intrepid female who threatened to invade the sacred domain. In 1778, +however, Miss Fanny Burney braved the old lady's wrath, published +_Evelina_, and became the pioneer of a new epoch. One of these days, +perhaps on the bi-centenary of that event, the army of women who wield +the pen will erect a statue to the memory of that courageous and +brilliant pathfinder. When they do so, two memorable scenes in the +life of their heroine will probably be represented in bas-relief upon +the pedestal. The one will portray Miss Burney, hopeless of ever +inducing a biased public to read a woman's work, making a bonfire of +the manuscripts to which she had devoted such patient care. The other +will illustrate the famous scene when Miss Burney danced a jig to Daddy +Crisp round the great mulberry-tree at Chessington. It was, her diary +tells us, the uncontrollable outcome of her exhilaration on learning of +the praise which the great Dr. Johnson bestowed on _Evelina_. 'It gave +me such a flight of spirits,' she says, 'that I danced a jig to Mr. +Crisp, without any preparation, music, or explanation, to his no small +amazement and diversion.' Macaulay declared that Miss Burney did for +the English novel what Jeremy Collier did for the English drama; and +she did it in a better way. 'She first showed that a tale might be +written in which both the fashionable and the vulgar life of London +might be exhibited with great force, and with broad comic humour, and +which should yet contain not a single line inconsistent with rigid +morality, or even with virgin delicacy. She took away the reproach +which lay on a most useful and delightful species of composition.' +Prejudice, however, dies hard; and the same writer tells us in another +essay that seventy years later, some reviewers were still of opinion +that a lady who dares to publish a book renounces by that act the +franchises appertaining to her sex, and can claim no exemption from the +utmost rigour of critical procedure. + +But, however strong may have been the prejudice against a woman +becoming captain, and taking her place upon the bridge, nobody could +object to her becoming first mate; and it is as first mate that woman +has rendered the most valuable service. A few, like Fanny Burney and +Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë and George Eliot, may have become +skippers; but we could better afford to lose all the works of such +writers than lose the influence which women have exerted over captains +whom they served in the capacity of first mate. It was a saying of +Emerson's that a man is entitled to credit, not only for what he +himself does, but for all that he inspires others to do. To no subject +does this axiom apply with greater force than to this. It would be a +fatal mistake to suppose that the contribution of women to the republic +of letters begins and ends with the works that bear feminine names upon +their title-pages. Our literature is adorned by a few examples of +acknowledged collaboration between a man and a woman, and only in very +rare instances is the woman the minor contributor. But, in addition to +these, there are innumerable records of men whose names stand in the +foremost rank among our laureates and teachers yet whose work would +have been simply impossible but for the woman in the background. From +a host of examples that naturally rush to mind we may instance, almost +at random, the cases of Wordsworth, Carlyle, and Robert Louis +Stevenson. In the days of his restless youth, when Wordsworth was in +danger of entangling himself in the military and political tumults of +the time, it was his sister who recalled him to his desk and pointed +him along the road that led to destiny. 'It is,' Miss Masson remarks, +'in moments such as this that men, especially those who feed on their +feelings, become desperate, and think and do desperate acts. It was at +this critical moment for Wordsworth that his sister Dorothy stepped +into his life and saved him.' 'She soothed his mind,' the same writer +says again, banished from it both contemporary politics and religious +doubts, and infused instead love of beauty and dependence on faith, and +so she re-awoke craving for poetic expression.' + + She, in the midst of all, preserved him still + A poet; made him seek beneath that name, + And that alone, his office upon earth. + +Poor Dorothy! She accompanied her brother on more than half his +wanderings; she pointed out to him more than half the loveliness that +is embalmed in his verses; she suggested to him half his themes. As +the poet himself confessed: + + She gave me eyes, she gave me ears, + And humble cares, and delicate fears; + A heart, the fountain of sweet tears; + And love, and thought, and joy. + + +Yes, the world owes more than it will ever know to first mates as loyal +and true and helpful as Dorothy Wordsworth. The skipper stands on the +bridge and gets all the glory, but only he and the first mate know how +much was due to the figure in the background. Think, too, of that +bright spring day, nearly fifty years ago now, when a lady, driving +through Hyde Park to see the beauty of the crocuses and the snowdrops, +was seen to lurch suddenly forward in her carriage, and a moment after +was found to be dead. 'It was a loss unspeakable in its intensity for +Carlyle,' Mr. Maclean Watt says in his monograph. 'This woman was one +of the bravest and brightest influences in his life, though, perhaps, +it was entirely true that he was not aware of his indebtedness until +the Veil of Silence fell between.' The skipper never is aware of his +indebtedness to the first mate; that is an essential feature of the +relationship. It is the glory of the first mate that he works without +thought of recognition or reward; glad if he can keep the ship true to +her course; and ever proud to see the skipper crowned with all the +glory. Carlyle's debt to his wife is one of the most tragic stories in +the history of letters. 'In the ruined nave of the old Abbey Kirk,' +the sage tells us, 'with the skies looking down on her, there sleeps my +little Jeannie, and the light of her face will never shine on me more. +I say deliberately her part in the stern battle (and except myself none +knows how stern) was brighter and braver than my own.' + +And in Stevenson's case the obligation is even more marked. 'What a +debt he owed to women!' one of his biographers exclaims. 'In his puny, +ailing infancy, his mother and his nurse Cummie had soothed and tended +him; in his troubled hour of youth he had found an inspirer, consoler, +and guide in Mrs. Sitwell to teach him belief in himself; in his moment +of failure, and struggle with poverty and death itself, he had married +a wife capable of being his comrade, his critic, and his nurse.' We +owe all the best part of Stevenson's work to the presence by his side +of a wife who possessed, as Sir Sidney Colvin testifies, 'a character +as strong, interesting, and romantic as his own. She was the +inseparable sharer of all his thoughts; the staunch companion of all +his adventures; the most open-hearted of friends to all who loved him; +the most shrewd and stimulating critic of his work; and in sickness, +despite her own precarious health, the most devoted and most efficient +of nurses.' + +Dorothy Wordsworth, Jane Carlyle, and Fanny Stevenson are +representatives of a great host of brave and brilliant women without +whom our literature would have been poor indeed. Some day we shall +open a Pantheon in which we shall place splendid monuments to our first +mates. At present we fill our Westminster Abbeys with the statues of +skippers. But, depend upon it, injustice cannot last for ever. Some +day the world will ask, not only, 'Was this man great?' but also, 'Who +made this man so great?' And when this old world of ours takes it into +its head to ask such questions, the day of the first mate will at last +have dawned. + +One other word ought to be said, although it seems a cruel kindness to +say it. It is this. There are people who succeed brilliantly as first +mates, but who fail ignominiously as skippers. Aaron is, of course, +the classical example. As long as Moses was skipper, and Aaron first +mate, everything went well. But Moses withdrew for awhile, and then +Aaron took command. 'And the Lord said unto Moses, Go, get thee down; +for thy people, which thou broughtest out of the land of Egypt, have +corrupted themselves. They have turned aside quickly out of the way +which I commanded them; they have made a molten calf, and have +worshipped it, and have sacrificed thereunto, and said, These be thy +gods, O Israel, which have brought thee up out of the land of Egypt!' +As long, I say, as Moses was skipper and Aaron first mate, Aaron did +magnificently. But when Aaron took command, he was, as Dr. Whyte says, +'a mere reed shaken with the wind; as weak and as evil as any other +man. Those forty days that Moses spent on the mount brought out, among +other things, both Moses' greatness and Aaron's littleness and weakness +in a way that nothing else could have done. "Up, make us gods, which +shall go before us; for, as for this Moses, we know not what is become +of him." And Aaron went down like a broken reed before the idolatrous +clamour of the revolted people.' The day of judgement, depend upon it, +will be a day of tremendous surprises. And not least among its +astonishments will be the disclosure of the immense debt that the world +owes to its first mates. And the first mates who never become skippers +will in that great day understand the reason why. And when they know +the reason why, they will be among the most thankful of the thankful. +It will be so much better for me to be applauded at the last as a good +and faithful first mate than to have to confess that, as skipper, I +drove the vessel on the rocks. + + + + +PART III + + +I + +WHEN THE COWS COME HOME + +I can see them now as they come, very slowly and in single file, down +the winding old lane. The declining sun is shining through the tops of +the poplars, the zest of daytime begins to soften into the hush and +cool of evening, when they come leisurely sauntering through the grass +that grows luxuriously beside the road. One after another they come +quietly along--Cherry and Brindle, Blossom and Darkie, Beauty and +Crinkle, Daisy and Pearl. A stranger watching them as they appear +round the bend of the pretty old lane fancies each of them to be the +last, and has just abandoned all hope of seeing another, when the next +pair of horns makes its unexpected appearance. They never hurry home; +they just come. A particularly tempting wisp in the long sweet grass +under the hedge will induce an instant halt. The least thing passing +along the road stops the whole procession; and they stare fixedly at +the intruder till he is well on his way. And then, with no attempt to +make up for lost time, they jog along at the same old pace once more. +It is good to watch them. When the whirl of life is too much for me; +when my brain reels and my temples throb; when the hurry around me +distracts my spirit and disturbs my peace; when I get caught in the +tumult and the bustle and the rush--then I like to throw myself back in +my chair for a moment and close my eyes. I am back once more in the +dear old lane among the haws and the filberts. I catch once more the +smell of the brier. I see again the squirrel up there in the oak and +the rabbit under the hedge. I listen as of old to the chirp of the +grasshopper in the stubble, to the hum of the bees among the foxgloves, +to the song of the blackbird on the hawthorn, and, best of all--yes, +best of all for brain unsteadied and nerve unstrung--I see the cows +coming home. + +It is a great thing to be able to believe the whole day long that, when +evening comes, the cows will all come home. That is the faith of the +milkmaid. As the day drags on she looks through the lattice window and +catches occasional glimpses of Cherry and Brindle, Blossom and Darkie, +Beauty and Crinkle, Daisy and Pearl. They are always wandering farther +and farther away across the fields; but she keeps a quiet heart. In +her deepest soul she cherishes a lovely secret. She knows that, when +the sunbeams slant through the tall poplar spires, the cows will all +come home. She does not pretend to understand the mysterious instinct +that will later on turn the faces of Cherry and Brindle towards her. +She cannot explain the wondrous force that will direct Blossom and +Darkie into the old lane, and guide them along its folds to the white +gate down by the byre. But where she cannot trace she trusts. And all +day long she clings to her sunny faith without wavering. She never +doubts for a moment that the cows will all come home. + +Is there anything in the wide world more beautiful than the confidence +of a good woman in the salvation of her children? For years they +cluster round her knee; she reads with them; prays with them; welcomes +their childish confidences. Then, one by one, away they go! The heat +of the day may bring waywardness, and even shame; but, like the +milkmaid watching the cows through the lattice, she is sure they will +all come home. Think of Susanna Wesley with her great family of +nineteen children around her. What a wonderful story it is, the tale +of her personal care and individual solicitude for the spiritual +welfare of each of them! And what a picture it is that Sir A. T. +Quiller-Couch has painted of the holy woman's deathbed! John arrives +and is welcomed at the door by poor Hetty, the prodigal daughter. + +'"The end is very near--a few hours perhaps!" Hetty tells him. + +'"And she is happy?" + +'"Ah, so happy!" Hetty's eyes brimmed with tears and she turned away. + +'"Sister, that happiness is for you, too. Why have you, alone of us, +so far rejected it?" + +'Hetty stepped to the door with a feeble gesture of the hands. She +knew that, worn as he was with his journey, if she gave him the chance +he would grasp it and pause, even while his mother panted her last, to +wrestle for and win a soul--not because she, Hetty, was his sister, but +simply because hers was a soul to be saved. Yes, and she foresaw that +sooner or later he would win; that she would be swept into the flame of +his conquest. She craved only to be let alone; she feared all new +experience; she distrusted even the joy of salvation. Life had been +too hard for Hetty.' And on another page we have an extract from +Charles's journal. 'I prayed by my sister, a gracious, tender, +trembling soul; a bruised reed which the Lord will not break.' + +The cows had all come home. The milkmaid's faith had not failed. + +The happiest people in the world, and the best, are the people who go +through life as the milkmaid goes through the day, believing that +before night the cows will all come home. It is a faith that does not +lend itself to apologetics, but, like the coming of the cows, it seems +to work out with amazing regularity. It is what Myrtle Reed would call +'a woman's reasoning.' It is _because_ it is. The cows will all come +home _because_ the cows will all come home. + + 'Good wife, what are you singing for? you know we've lost + the hay, + And what we'll do with horse and kye is more than I can say; + While, like as not, with storm and rain, we'll lose both corn + and wheat.' + She looked up with a pleasant face, and answered low and sweet, + There is a Heart, there is a Hand, we feel but cannot see; + We've always been provided for, and we shall always be.' + + 'That's like a woman's reasoning, we must because we must!' + She softly said, 'I reason not, I only work and trust; + The harvest may redeem the hay, keep heart whate'er betide; + When one door's shut I've always found another open wide. + There is a Heart, there is a Hand, we feel but cannot see + We've always been provided for, and we shall always be.' + + +The fact is that the milkmaid has a kind of understanding with +Providence. She is in league with the Eternal. And Providence has a +way of its own of keeping faith with trustful hearts like hers. I was +reading the other day Commander J. W. Gambier's _Links in my Life_, and +was amused at the curious inconsistency which led the author first to +sneer at Providence and then to bear striking witness to its fidelity. +As a young fellow the Commander came to Australia and worked on a +way-back station, but he had soon had enough. 'I was to try what +fortune could do for a poor man; but I believed in personal endeavour +and the recognition of it by Providence. _I did not know Providence_.' + +'I did not know Providence!' sneers our young bushman. + +'The cows will all come home,' says the happy milkmaid. + +But on the very same page that contains the sneer Commander Gambier +tells this story. When he was leaving England the old cabman who drove +him to the station said to him, 'If you see my son Tom in Australia, +ask him to write home and tell us how he's getting on.' 'I explained,' +the Commander tells us, 'that Australia was a big country, and asked +him if he had any idea of the name of the place his son had gone to. +He had not.' As soon as Commander Gambier arrived at Newcastle, in New +South Wales, he met an exceptionally ragged ostler. As the ostler +handed him his horse, Mr. Gambier felt an irresistible though +inexplicable conviction that this was the old cabman's son. He felt +absolutely sure of it; so he said: + +'Your name is Fowles, isn't it?' + +He looked amazed, and seemed to think that his questioner had some +special reason for asking him, and was at first disinclined to answer. +But Mr. Gambier pressed him and said, 'Your father, the Cheltenham +cab-driver, asked me to look you up.' + +He then admitted that he was the man, and Mr. Gambier urged him to +write to his father. All this on the selfsame page as the ugly sneer +about Providence! + +And a dozen pages farther on I came upon a still more striking story. +Commander Gambier was very unfortunate, very homesick, and very +miserable in Australia. He could not make up his mind whether to stay +here or return to England. 'At last,' he says, 'I resolved to _leave +it to fate_.' The only difference that I can discover between the +'_Providence_' whom Commander Gambier could not trust, and the '_fate_' +to which he was prepared to submit all his fortunes, is that the former +is spelt with a capital letter and the latter with a small one! But to +the story. 'On the road where I stood was a small bush grog-shop, and +the coaches pulled up here to refresh the ever-thirsty bush traveller. +At this spot the up-country and down-country coaches met, and I +resolved that I would get into whichever came in first, _leaving it to +destiny_ to settle. Looking down the long, straight track over which +the up-country coach must come, I saw a cloud of dust, and well can I +remember the curious sensation I had that I was about to turn my back +upon England for ever! But in the other direction a belt of scrub hid +the view, the road making a sharp turn. And then, almost +simultaneously, I heard a loud crack of a whip, and round this corner, +at full gallop, came the down coach, pulling up at the shanty not three +minutes before the other! I felt like a man reprieved, for my heart +was really set on going home; and I jumped up into the down coach with +a great sense of relief!' And thus Mr. Gambier returned to England, +became a Commander in the British Navy, and one of the most +distinguished ornaments of the service. He sneers at '_Providence_,' +yet trusts to '_fate_,' and leaves everything to '_destiny_'! The +milkmaid's may be an inexplicable confidence; but this is an +inexplicable confusion. Both are being guided by the same Hand--the +Hand that leads the cows home. She sees it and sings. He scouts it +and sneers. That is the only difference. + +Carlyle spent the early years of his literary life, until he was nearly +forty, among the mosshags and isolation of Craigenputtock. It was, +Froude says, the dreariest spot in all the British dominions. The +house was gaunt and hungry-looking, standing like an island in a sea of +morass. When he felt the lure of London, and determined to fling +himself into its tumult, he took 'one of the biggest plunges that a man +might take.' But in that hour of crisis he built his faith on one +great golden word. 'All things work together for good to them that +love God,' he wrote to his brother. And, later on, when his mother was +in great distress at the departure of her son, Alick, for America, +Carlyle sent her the same text. 'You have had much to suffer, dear +mother,' he wrote, 'and are grown old in this Valley of Tears; but you +say always, as all of us should say, "Have we not many mercies too?" +Is there not above all, and in all, a Father watching over us, through +whom all sorrows shall yet work together for good? Yes, it is even so. +Let us try to hold by _that_ as an anchor both sure and steadfast.' +Which is another way of saying, 'It is all right, mother mine. Let +them wander as they will whilst the sun is high; when it slants through +the poplars the cows will all come home!' + +The homeward movement of the cows is part of the harmony of the +universe. Man himself goeth forth, the psalmist says, unto his work +and to his labour until the evening. Until the evening--and then, like +the cows, he comes home. It is this sense of harmony between the +coming of the cows on the one hand, and all their environment on the +other, that gave Gray the opening thought for his 'Elegy in a Country +Churchyard': + + The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, + The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, + The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, + And leaves the world to darkness and to me. + +Here are two pictures--the tired ploughman and the lowing herd both +coming home; and the two together make up a perfect harmony. It is a +stroke of poetic genius. We are made to feel the weariness of the +tired ploughman in order that we may be able to appreciate the +restfulness of the evening, the solitude of the quiet churchyard, and +the cows coming slowly home. I blamed myself at the beginning for +sometimes getting caught in the fever and tumult of life; but then, if +I never knew such exhausting experiences, I should never be able to +enjoy the delicious stillness of the evening, I should never be able to +see the beauty of the herd winding so slowly o'er the lea. It is just +because the ploughman has toiled so hard, and done his work so well, +that his weariness blends so perfectly with the restfulness of the +dusk. For it is only those who have bravely borne the burden and heat +of the day who can relish the sweetness and peace of the twilight. It +is a man's duty to keep things in their right place. I do not mean +merely that he should keep his hat in the hall, and his book on the +shelf. I mean that, as far as possible, a man ought to keep his toil +to the daylight, and his rest to the dusk. + +Dr. Chalmers held that our three-score years and ten are really seven +decades corresponding with the seven days of the week. Six of them, he +said, should be spent in strenuous endeavour. But the seventh is the +Sabbath of the Lord thy God, and should be spent in Sabbatic quiet. +That ideal is not always capable of realization. For the matter of +that, it is not always possible to abstain from work on the Lord's Day. +But it is good to keep it before us as an ideal. We may at least +determine that, on the Sunday, we will perform only deeds of necessity +and mercy. And, in the same way, we may resolve that we will leave as +little work as possible to be done in the twilight of life. It was one +of the chiefest of the prophets who told us that 'it is good for a man +to bear the yoke in his youth.' If I were the director of a life +insurance company, I should have that great word blazoned over the +portal of the office. If, by straining an extra nerve in the heyday of +his powers, a man may ensure to himself some immunity from care in the +evening, he is under a solemn obligation to do so. The weary ploughman +has no right to labour after the cows come home. + +For, in some respects, the sweetest part of the day follows the coming +of the cows. I have a notion that most of the old folk would say so. +During the day they fancied that the cows had gone, to return no more. +But they all came home. 'And now,' says old Margaret Ogilvy, 'and now +it has all come true like a dream. I can call to mind not one little +thing I ettled for in my lusty days that hasna' been put into my hands +in my auld age. I sit here useless, surrounded by the gratification of +all my wishes and all my ambitions; and at times I'm near terrified, +for it's as if God had mista'en me for some other woman.' They +wandered long, that is to say, and they wandered far. But they all +came home--Cherry and Brindle, Blossom and Darkie, Beauty and Crinkle, +Daisy and Pearl--they all came home. Happy are all they who sing in +their souls the milkmaid's song, and never, never doubt that, when the +twilight gathers round them, the cows will all come home! + + + + +II + +MUSHROOMS ON THE MOOR + +Mr. G. K. Chesterton does not like mushrooms. That is the most +arresting fact that I have gleaned from reading, carefully and with +delight, his _Victorian Age in Literature_. In his treatment of +Dickens, he writes very contemptuously of 'that Little Bethel to which +Kit's mother went,' and he likens it to '_a monstrous mushroom_ that +grows in the moonshine and dies in the dawn.' Now no man who was +really fond of the esculent and homely fungus would have employed such +a metaphor by way of disparagement. I can only infer that Mr. +Chesterton thinks mushrooms very nasty. His opinion of Little Bethel +does not concern me. It is neither here nor there. But Mr. Chesterton +does not like _mushrooms_! I cannot get over that! + +I feel very sorry for Mr. Chesterton. It is not merely a matter of +taste. I would not presume to set my opinion in a matter of this kind +over against his. But the authorities are with me. I have looked up +the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and its opening sentence on the subject +affirms that 'there are few more delicious members of the vegetable +kingdom than the common mushroom.' I suppose that in these matters +association has a lot to do with it. I cannot forget those delicious +summer mornings in England when we boys, rising with the lark, stole +out of the house like so many burglars, and scampered with our baskets +across the fragrant meadows to gather the white buttons that dotted the +sparkling, dew-drenched grass. It was, as I have said in the +introduction to this book, a large part of childhood's radiant romance! +What tales our fancy wove into the fairy-rings under the elm-trees! We +lifted each moist fungus half expecting to see the brownies and the +elves fly from beneath it! And what fearsome care we took to include +no single hypocritical toadstool among our treasures! I am really +afraid that Mr. Chesterton would have been less conscientious. +Mushrooms and toadstools are all alike to him. He can never have had +such frolics in the fields as we enjoyed in those ecstatic summer +mornings. And he never, therefore, knew the fierce joy of the +breakfast that followed when, hungry as hunters, we returned with +flushed faces to feast upon the spoils of our boisterous foray. Over +such brave memories Mr. Chesterton cannot fondly linger. For Mr. +Chesterton does not like mushrooms. + +What would the Harvester have said to Mr. Chesterton? For, to Gene +Stratton Porter's hero, mushrooms were half-way to destiny. 'In the +morning, brilliant sunshine awoke him, and he arose to find the earth +steaming. + +'"If ever there was a perfect mushroom morning!" he said to his dog. +"We must hurry and feed the stock and ourselves, and gather some!" The +Harvester breakfasted, fed the stock, hitched Betsy to the spring +wagon, and went into the dripping, steamy woods. If any one had asked +him that morning concerning his idea of heaven, he would never have +dreamed of describing gold-paved streets, crystal pillars, jewelled +gates, and thrones of ivory. He would have told you that the woods on +a damp sunny May morning was heaven. He only opened his soul to +beauty, and steadily climbed the hill to the crest, and then down the +other side to the rich, half-shaded, half-open spaces, where big, rough +mushrooms sprang in a night.' + +Yes, a mushroom morning was heaven to the Harvester. And it was the +mushrooms that led him the first step of the way towards the discovery +of his dream-girl. The mushrooms represented the first of those golden +stairs by which he climbed to his paradise. And Mr. Chesterton does +not like mushrooms! What would the Harvester have said to Mr. +Chesterton? + +One faint, struggling glimmer of hope I am delighted to discover. Mr. +Chesterton likens _Little_ Bethel to a _monstrous_ mushroom. There can +be only one reason for this inartistic mixture of analogy and +antithesis. Mr. Chesterton evidently knows that a large mushroom is +not so sweet or so toothsome as a small one. A 'monstrous mushroom,' +even to those who like mushrooms, is coarse and less tasty. Now the +gleam of hope lies in the circumstance that Mr. Chesterton knows the +fine gradations of niceness (or nastiness) that distinguish mushrooms +of one size from mushrooms of another. As a rule, if you get to know a +thing, you get to like it. Mr. Chesterton is coming to know mushrooms. +He will soon be ordering them for breakfast. He may even come, like +certain tribes mentioned in the _Encyclopaedia_, to eat nothing else! +And by that time he may have come to know Little Bethel. And if he +comes to know it, he may come to like it. He will still liken it to a +mushroom. But we shall be able to tell, by the way he says it, that he +means that it is very good. We shall see at once that Mr. Chesterton +likes mushrooms. At present, however, the stern fact remains. Mr. +Chesterton does _not_ like mushrooms. Richard Jefferies, in his +_Amateur Poacher_, says that mushrooms are good either raw or cooked. +The great naturalist is therefore altogether on the side of the +_Encyclopaedia_. 'Some eat mushrooms raw, fresh as taken from the +ground, with a little salt; but to me the taste is then too strong.' +Perhaps that is how Mr. Chesterton has taken his mushrooms--_and Little +Bethel_!' Of the many ways of cooking mushrooms,' Richard Jefferies +goes on, 'the simplest is the best; that is, on a gridiron.' Mr. +Chesterton gives the impression that that is precisely how he would +prefer his mushrooms--_and Little Bethel_! For Mr. Chesterton does not +like mushrooms. + +The really extraordinary feature of the whole thing is that I like +mushrooms all the better for the very reason that leads Mr. Chesterton +to pour upon them his most withering and pitiless contempt. He hates +them because they spring up in the night. Little Bethel is a +'monstrous mushroom that grows in the moonshine.' It is perfectly true +that Little Bethel, like the mushrooms, flourished in the darkness. +Like Mark Tapley, she was at her brightest when her surroundings were +most dreary. In this respect both the meeting-house and the mushrooms +are in excellent company. Many fine things grow in the night. Indeed, +Sir James Crichton-Browne, the great doctor, in his lecture on 'Sleep,' +argues that all things that grow at all grow in the night. Night is +Nature's growing-time. Now Michael Fairless shared Richard Jefferies' +fondness for mushrooms. Every reader of _The Roadmender_ will recall +the night in the woods. 'Through the still night I heard the +nightingales calling, calling, calling, until I could bear it no +longer, and went softly out into the luminous dark. The wood was +manifold with sound. I heard my little brothers who move by night +rustling in grass and tree; and above and through it all the +nightingales sang and sang and sang! The night wind bent the listening +trees, and the stars yearned earthwards to hear the song of deathless +love. Louder and louder the wonderful notes rose and fell in a passion +of melody, and then sank to rest on that low thrilling call which it is +said Death once heard and stayed his hand. At last there was silence. +The grey dawn awoke and stole with trailing robes across earth's floor. +Gathering a pile of mushrooms--_children of the night_--I hasten home.' + +The nightingales--the _singers_ of the night! + +The mushrooms--the _children_ of the night! + +These _singers_ of the night, and these '_children_ of the night,' +almost remind me of Faber: + + Angels of Jesus, angels of light, + Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night! + +But Mr. Chesterton does not like 'the _children_ of the night.' + +Now we must really learn better manners. It will not do to treat +things contemptuously either because they spring up suddenly, or +because they spring up in the night. In this matter we Australians +live in glass houses and must not throw stones. Mr. Chesterton is +treading on our pet corns. For Australia and America are the two most +'monstrous mushrooms' on the face of the earth! Like the nations of +which the prophet wrote, they were 'born in a day.' Think of what +happened in America in the ten short years between 1830 and 1840! No +nation in the history of the world can produce so astounding a record! +In 1830 America had 23 miles of railway; in 1840 she had 800. In 1830 +the country presented all the wilder characteristics of early colonial +settlement; in 1840 it was a great and populous nation. In 1830 +Chicago was a frontier fort; in 1840 Chicago was a city. In 1830 the +population of Michigan was 32,000; in 1840 it was 212,000. It was +during this sensational decade, too, that the first steamships crossed +the Atlantic. And the spirit of the age reflected itself in the +literary wealth of which America became possessed at that extraordinary +time. Whittier and Longfellow, Oliver Wendell Holmes and Nathaniel +Hawthorne, Emerson and Bancroft, Poe and Prescott, all arose during +that eventful period, and made for themselves names that have become +classical and immortal. Here is a monstrous mushroom for you! Or, to +pass from the things of yesterday to the things of to-day, see how, +under the shadow of the Rocky Mountains, Canadian cities are in our own +time shooting up with positively incredible swiftness. No, no; Mr. +Chesterton must not speak disparagingly of mushrooms! + +And look at the rapidity at which these young nations beneath the +Southern Cross sprang into existence! I remember standing on the +sea-shore in New Zealand talking to a couple of old whalers, who told +me of the times they spent before the first emigrant ships arrived, +when they were the only white men for hundreds of miles around. And +now! Why, in their own lifetime these men had seen a great nation +spring into being! Here, I say again, are mushrooms for you! + +But do mushrooms really spring up as suddenly as they appear to do? +Dan Crawford tells us that, in Central Africa, if a young missionary +attempts to prove the existence of God, the natives laugh, and, +pointing to the wonders of Nature around, exclaim, '_No rain, no +mushrooms!_' In effect they mean to say, without some adequate cause. +If there were no God, whence came the forest and the fauna? Now that +African proverb is very suggestive. 'No rain, no mushrooms.' The +mushroom, that is to say, has its roots away back in old rainstorms, in +fallen forests, and in ancient climatic experiences too subtle to +trace. I have been reading Dr. Cooke's text-book, and he and Mr. +Cuthill have convinced me that it takes about a million years to grow a +mushroom. The conditions out of which the fungus suddenly springs are +as old as the world itself. And that same consideration saves America +and Australia from contempt. For both America and Australia--these +mushroom nations--are very, very old. Dr. Stanley Hall, the President +of the Clark University, was speaking on this aspect of things the +other day. 'In a very pregnant psychological sense,' he said, 'ours is +an unhistoric land. Our very constitution had a Minerva birth.' (That +is a classical way of saying that it had a mushroom birth.) 'Our +literature, customs, fashions, institutions, and legislation were +inherited or copied, and our religion was not a gradual indigenous +growth, but both its spirit and its forms were imported ready-made from +Holland, Rome, England, and Palestine. No country is so precociously +old for its years.' It follows, therefore, that Australia is as old as +the Empire. And the Empire has its roots away back where the first man +delved. We must not allow ourselves to be duped by the trickery of +appearances. These new things are very ancient. 'How long did it take +you to paint that picture?' somebody asked Sir Joshua Reynolds. '_All +my life!_' he replied. + +Anybody can grow fine flowers in the daytime. But what can you grow in +the dark? That is the challenge of the mushrooms--_what can you grow +in the dark_? 'The nights are the test!' as Charlotte Brontë used to +say. When things were as black as black could be, poor Charlotte +wrote: 'The days pass in a slow, dark march; the nights are the test; +the sudden wakings from restless sleep, the revived knowledge that one +sister lies in her grave, and another not at my side, but in a separate +and sick-bed. _The nights are the test_.' They are indeed. Tell me: +Can you grow faith, and restfulness, and patience, and a quiet heart in +the darkness? If so, you will never speak contemptuously of mushrooms +again. + +Why, dear me, some of the very finest things in this world of ours +spring up suddenly, like the mushroom, and spring up in the dark! Dean +Hole used to tell how he became a preacher. For years he could not +lift his eyes from his manuscript. Then, one Sunday evening, the light +suddenly failed. His manuscript was useless, and he found himself +speaking heart to heart to his people. The eloquence for which he was +afterwards famed appeared in a moment, and appeared in the dark! And I +am very fond of that story of the old American soldier. He was stone +blind, but very happy, and always wore his medal on his breast. + +'What do you do in these days of darkness?' somebody asked him. + +'Do?' he replied almost scornfully. 'Why, I thank God that for fifty +years I had the gift of sight. I saw Abraham Lincoln, and heard the +bugles call for the victory of Truth and Righteousness. I go back to +those scenes now, and realize them anew. I have lost my sight, but +_memory has been born again in the dark_.' + +If, therefore, we allow mushrooms to be treated with contempt, simply +because they spring up suddenly, and spring up in the night, we shall +soon find other beautiful things, much more precious, brought under the +same cruel condemnation. And what of a sudden conversion? Think of +_Down in Water Street_, and _Broken Earthenware_, and _Varieties of +Religious Experience_! What of that tremendous happening on the road +to Damascus? The Philippian jailer, too! See him, with a grim smile +of satisfaction, locking the apostles in their terrible dungeon; yet +before the night is through, he is tenderly bathing their stripes and +ministering to them with all the gentle graces of Christian courtesy +and compassion!' A monstrous mushroom that grew in the night,' would +you call it? At any rate, it did not die with the dawn. 'Minerva +births' these, with a vengeance. As for me, I have nothing but +reverence for the mushrooms. They are among the wonders of a very +wondrous world. + + + + +III + +ONIONS + +Just along the old rut-riddled road that winds through the bush on its +way to Bulman's Gully there lives a poor old man who fancies that he is +of no use in the world. I am going to send him an onion. I am +convinced that it will cure him of his most distressing malady. I +shall wrap it up in tissue paper, pack it in a dainty box, tie it with +silk ribbons, and post it without delay. No gift could be more +appropriate. The good man's argument is very plausible, but an onion +will draw out all its defects. He thinks, because he never hears any +voice trumpeting his fame or chanting his praise, that he is therefore +without any real worth or value to his fellow men. Could anything be +more preposterous? Who ever heard a panegyric in praise of onions? At +what concert was the song of the onion sung? Roses and violets, +daisies and daffodils, are the theme of every warbler; but when does +the onion come in for adulation? Run through your great poets and show +me the epic, or even the sonnet, addressed to the onion! Are we, +therefore, to assume that onions have no value in a world like this? +What a wealth of appetizing piquancy would vanish from our tables if +the onion were to come no more! As a relish, as a food, and as a +medicine, the onion is simply invaluable; yet no orator ever loses +himself in rhetorical transports in honour of onions! It is clearly +not safe to assume that because we are not much praised, we are +therefore of not much profit. And so I repeat my suggestion that if +any man is known to be depressed over his apparent uselessness, it +would be a service to humanity in general, and to that member of the +race in particular, to post him an onion. + +'I always bless God for making anything so strong as an onion!' +exclaimed William Morris, in a fine and characteristic burst of +fervour. That is the point: an onion is so strong. The very strength +of a thing often militates against applause. If a strong man lifted a +bag of potatoes we should think no more about it; but if a schoolboy +picked it up and ran off with it we should be speechless with +amazement. We take the strength of the strong for granted; it is the +strength of the weak that we applaud. If a man is known to be good or +useful or great, we treat his goodness or usefulness or greatness as +one of the given factors of life's intricate problem, and straightway +dismiss it from our minds. It is when goodness or usefulness or +greatness breaks out in unexpected places or in unexpected people that +we vociferously shout our praise. We applaud the singers at a concert +because it appeals to us as such an amazing and delightful incongruity +that so practical and prosaic a creature as Man should suddenly burst +into melody; but when the angels sang at Bethlehem the shepherds never +thought of clapping. The onion is therefore in company with the +angels. I am not surprised that the Egyptians accorded the onion +divine honours and carved its image on their monuments. I am prepared +to admit that onions do not move in the atmosphere of sentiment and of +poetry. Tears have been shed over onions, as every housewife knows. +Shakespeare speaks of the tears that live in an onion. But, as +Shakespeare implies, they are crocodile tears--without tenderness and +without emotion. Old John Wolcott, the satirist, tells how + + . . . . . . Master Broadbrim + Pored o'er his father's will and dropped the onioned tear. + +And Bernard Shaw writes of 'the undertaker's handkerchief, duly onioned +with some pathetic phrase.' No, onions do not lend themselves to +passion or to pathos. You would scarcely decorate the church with +onions for your sister's wedding, or plant a row of onions on a hero's +grave. And yet I scarcely know why. For, in a suitable setting, a +touch of warm romance may light up even so apparently prosaic a theme. +The coming of the swallows in the spring is scarcely a more delightful +event in Cornwall than the annual arrival of the onion-sellers from +Brittany. What a picturesque world we invade when we get among those +dreamy old fishing-villages that dot the Cornish coast! + + Gold mists upon the sea and sky, + The hills are wrapped in silver veils, + The fishing-boats at anchor lie, + Nor flap their idle orange sails. + +The wild and rugged sea-front is itself suggestive of rich romance and +reminiscent of bold adventure. The smugglers, the pirates, the +wreckers, and the Spanish mariners knew every bluff and headland +perfectly. And, however the world beyond may have changed, these tiny +hamlets have triumphantly defied the teeth of time. They know no +alteration. The brogue of the people is strange but rhythmic, and, +though pleasant to hear, very hard for ordinary mortals to understand. +The fisherfolk, with their strapping and stalwart forms, their bronzed +and weather-beaten features, their dark, idyllic eyes, their tanned and +swarthy skins, their odd and old-world garb, together with their +general air of being the daughters of the ocean and the sons of the +storm, seem to be a race by themselves. And he who tarries long enough +among them to become infected by the charm of their secluded and +well-ordered lives knows that one of the events of their uneventful +year is the coming of the onion-sellers from over the sea. The +historic connexion between Cornwall and Brittany is very ancient, and +is a romance in itself. The English and French coasts, as they face +each other there, are very much alike--broken, precipitous, and grand. +The peoples live pretty much the same kind of lives on either side of +the Channel. And when the onion-sellers come from France they are +greeted with enthusiasm by the Cornish people, and although they speak +their own tongue, they are perfectly understood. See! there is one of +the Breton onion-sellers lounging among a knot of fishermen near the +door of yonder picturesque old Cornish cottage, whilst the wife stands +in the open doorway, arms a-kimbo, listening as the foreigner tells of +the things that he has seen across the Channel since last he visited +this coast. And up the hill there, on the rickety old settle, beneath +the creaking signboard of the village inn, is another such group. As I +gaze upon these masculine but kindly faces I am half inclined to +withdraw my too hasty admission that onions have nothing about them of +sentiment, poetry, or romance. + +It always strikes me as a funny thing about onions that, however fond a +man may be of the onions themselves, he detests things that are +_oniony_. Give him onions, and he will devour them with magnificent +relish. But, through some slip in the kitchen, let his porridge or his +tea taste of onions, and his wry face is a sight worth seeing! A +friend of mine keeps a large apiary. One summer he was in great glee +at the immense stores of honey that his bees were collecting. Then, +one dreadful day, he tasted it. The dainty little square of comb, +oozing with the exuding fluid, was passed round the table. Horror sat +upon every face! It turned out that the bees had discovered a large +onion plantation some distance away, and had gathered their heavy +stores from that odorous and tainted source! What could be more +abominable, even to a lover of onions, than oniony honey? We remember +Thackeray and his oniony sandwiches. Now why is it possible for me to +love onions and to hate all things oniony? The fact is that the world +has a few vigorous, decided, elementary things that absolutely decline +to be modified or watered down. 'Onions is onions!' as a well-known +character in fiction remarked on a memorable occasion, and there is a +world of significance in the bald assertion. There are some things +that are as old as the world, and as universal as man, and that are too +vivid and pronounced to humble their pride or compromise their own +distinctive glory. The exquisite shock of the bather as his naked body +plunges into the flowing tide; the instinctive recoil on seeing for the +first time a dead human body; the delicious thrill with which the lover +presses for the first time his lady's lips; the terrifying roar of a +lion, the flaunting scarlet of a poppy, and the inimitable flavour of +an onion--these are among the world's most familiar quantities, the +things that decline to be modified or changed. You might as well ask +for an ice-cream with the chill off as ask for a diluted edition of any +of these vivid and primitive things. Onions may be regarded by a man +as simply delicious, but oniony honey or oniony tea! The bather's +plunge is a rapture to every stinging and startled nerve in his body, +but to stand ankle-deep in the surf, shivering with folded arms in the +breeze that scatters the spray! Life is full of delightful things that +are a transport to the soul if we take them as they are, but that +become a torment and an abomination if we water them down. And it is +just because Christianity itself is so distinctive, so outstanding, so +boldly pronounced a thing, that we insist on its being unadulterated. +Even a worldling feels that a Christian, to be tolerable, must be out +and out. The man who waters down his religion is like the shivering +bather who, feeling the cold, cold waters tickling his toes, cannot +muster up the courage to plunge; he is like the man who wants an +ice-cream with the chill off; he is like oniony honey or oniony tea! + +A man cannot, of course, live upon onions. Onions have their place and +their purpose, and, as I have said, are simply invaluable. But they +must be kept to that place and to that purpose. The modern tendency is +to eat nothing but onions. We are fast becoming the victims of a +perfect passion for piquancy. Time was when we expected our newspapers +to tell us the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. We +don't care a rap about the truth now, so long as they'll give us a +thrill. We must have onions. We used to demand of the novelist a +love-story; now he must be morbidly sexual and grimly sensational. Our +grandfathers went to a magic lantern entertainment and thought it a +furious frolic. And on Sundays they prayed. 'From lightning and +tempest; from plague, pestilence, and famine; from battle and murder, +and from sudden death, Good Lord, deliver us!' Their grandchildren +pray, 'From all churches and chapels, Good Lord, deliver us!' And, +during the week, they like to see all the blood-curdling horrors of +lightning and tempest; of plague, pestilence, and famine; of battle, +murder, and of sudden death, enacted before their starting eyes with +never a flicker to remind them that the film is only a film. The +dramas, the dances, and the dresses of the period fortify my +contention. The cry is for onions, and the stronger the better. It is +not a healthy sign. Mr. H. G. Wells, in his graphic description of the +changes that overcame Bromstead, and turned it from green fields into +filthy slums, says that he noticed that 'there seemed to be more boards +by the railway every time I passed, advertising pills and pickles, +tonics and condiments, and such-like solicitudes of a people with no +natural health or appetite left in them.' The pills, that is to say, +kept pace with the pickles. The more pickles Bromstead ate, the more +pills Bromstead wanted. That is the worst of the passion for piquancy. +The soul grows sick if fed on sensations. Onions are splendid things, +but you cannot live upon onions. Pickles inevitably lead to pills. + +But that is not all. For the trouble is that, if I develop an +inordinate appetite for onions, I lose all relish for more delicately +flavoured foods. The most impressive instance of such a dietary +tragedy is recorded in my Bible. 'The children of Israel wept and +said, "We remember the _onions_, but now there is nothing except _this +manna_ before our eyes!"' Onions seem to have a special connexion with +Egypt. Herodotus tells us that the men who built the Pyramids fed upon +onions, although the priests were forbidden to touch them. 'We +remember the onions!' cried the children of Israel, looking wistfully +back at Egypt, 'but now we have nothing but this manna!' The onions +actually destroyed their appetite for angels' food! That, I repeat, is +the most mournful aspect of our modern and insatiable passion for +piquancy. If I let my soul absorb itself in the sensational novel, the +hair-raising drama, and the blood-curdling film, I find myself losing +appreciation for the finer and gentler things in life. I no longer +glory, as I used to do, in the sweetness of the morning air and the +glitter of the dew-drenched grass; in the purling stream and the +fern-draped hills; in the curling waves and the twinkling stars. The +bound of the hare and the flight of the sea-bird lose their charm for +me. The world is robbed of its wonder and its witchery when my eyes +grow accustomed to the gaudy blinding glare. Jenny Lind was asked why +she renounced the stage. She was sitting at the moment on the sands by +the seaside, with her Bible on her knee. She pointed her questioner to +the setting sun, transforming the ocean into a sea of glory. 'I +found,' she said, 'that I was losing my taste for that, and'--holding +up her Bible--'my taste for this; so I gave it up!' She was a wise +woman. Onions are fine things in their own way. God has undoubtedly +left a place in His world for the strong, vivid, elemental things. But +they must be kept to that place. God has strewn the ground around me +with the food that angels eat, and I must allow nothing on earth to +destroy my taste for such sublime and wondrous fare. + + + + +IV + +ON GETTING OVER THINGS + +We get over things. It is the most amazing faculty that we possess. +War or pestilence; drought or famine; fire or flood; it does not +matter. However devastating the catastrophe, however frightful the +slaughter, however total the eclipse, we surmount our sorrows and find +ourselves still smiling when the storm is overpast. I remember once +penetrating into the wild and desolate interior of New Zealand. From a +jagged and lonely eminence I surveyed a landscape that almost +frightened one. Not a house was in sight, nor a road, nor one living +creature, nor any sign of civilization. I looked in every direction at +what seemed to have been the work of angry Titans. Far as the eye +could see, the earth around me appeared to have been a battle-field on +which an army of giants had pelted each other with mountains. The +whole country was broken, weird, precipitous, and grand. In every +direction huge cliffs towered perpendicularly about you; bottomless +abysses yawned at your feet; and every scarped pinnacle and beetling +crag scowled menacingly at your littleness and scowled defiance at your +approach. One wondered by what titanic forces the country had been so +ruthlessly crushed and crumbled and torn to shreds. Did any startled +eye witness this volcanic frolic? What a sight it must have been to +have watched these towering ranges split and scattered; to have seen +the placid snowclad heights shivered, like fragile vases, to fragments; +to have beheld the mountains tossed about like pebbles; to have seen +the valleys torn and rent and twisted; and the rivers flung back in +terror to make for themselves new channels as best they could! It must +have been a fearsome and wondrous spectacle to have observed the +slumbering forces of the universe in such a burst of passion! Nature +must have despaired of her quiet and sylvan landscape. 'It is ruined,' +she sobbed; 'it can never be the same again!' No, it can never be the +same again. The bright colours of the kaleidoscope do not form the +same mosaic a second time. But Nature has got over her grief, for all +that. For see! All up these tortured and angular valleys the great +evergreen bush is growing in luxurious profusion. Every slope is +densely clothed with a glorious tangle of magnificent forestry. From +the branches that wave triumphantly from the dizzy heights above, to +those that mingle with the delicate mosses in the valley, the verdure +nowhere knows a break. Even on the steep rocky faces the persistent +vegetation somehow finds for itself a precarious foothold; and where +the trees fear to venture the lichen atones for their absence. Up +through every crack and cranny the ferns are pushing their graceful +fronds. It is a marvellous recovery. Indeed, the landscape is really +better worth seeing to-day than in those tranquil days, centuries ago, +before the Titans lost their temper, and began to splinter the summits. + +Travellers in South America frequently comment upon the same +phenomenon. Prescott tells us how Cortes, on his historic march to +Mexico, passed through regions that had once gleamed with volcanic +fires. The whole country had been swept by the flames, and torn by the +fury of these frightful eruptions. As the traveller presses on, his +road passes along vast tracts of lava, bristling in the innumerable +fantastic forms into which the fiery torrent has been thrown by the +obstacles in its career. But as he casts his eye down some steep +slope, or almost unfathomable ravine, on the margin of the road, he +sees their depths glowing with the rich blooms and enamelled vegetation +of the tropics. His vision sweeps across plains of exuberant +fertility, almost impervious from thickets of aromatic shrubs and wild +flowers, in the midst of which tower up trees of that magnificent +growth which is found only in these latitudes. It is an intoxicating +panorama of brilliant colour and sweetest perfume. Kingsley and +Wallace, too, remark upon these great volcanic rents and gashes that +have been healed by verdure of rare magnificence and orchids of +surpassing loveliness. 'Even the gardens of England were a desert in +comparison! All around them were orange- and lemon-trees, the fruit of +which, in that strange coloured light of the fireflies, flashed in +their eyes like balls of burnished gold and emerald; while great white +tassels, swinging from every tree in the breeze which swept the glade, +tossed in their faces a fragrant snow of blossoms and glittering drops +of perfumed dew.' It is thus that, like the oyster that conceals its +scar beneath a pearl, Nature heals her wounds with loveliness. She +gets over things. + +And so do we. For, after all, the world about us is but a shadow, a +transitory and flickering shadow, of the actual and greater world +within us. Yes, the incomparably greater world within us; for what is +a world of grass and granite compared with a world of blood and tears? +What is the cleaving of an Alp compared with the breaking of a heart? +What is the sweep of a tornado, the roar of a prairie-fire, or the +booming thunder of an avalanche, compared with the cry of a child in +pain?' All visible things,' as Carlyle has taught us, 'are emblems. +What thou seest is not there on its own account; strictly speaking is +not there at all. Matter exists only spiritually, and to represent +some idea and body it forth.' The soul is liable to great volcanic +processes. There come to it tragic and tremendous hours when all its +depths are broken up, all its landmarks shattered, and all its streams +turned rudely back. For weal or for woe everything is suddenly and +strangely changed. Amidst the crash of ruin and the loss of all, the +soul sobs out its pitiful lament. 'Everything has gone!' it cries. 'I +can never be the same again! I can never get over it!' But Time is a +great healer. His touch is so gentle that the poor patient is not +conscious of its pressure. The days pass, and the weeks, and the +months, and the years. Like the trees that start from the rocky faces, +and the ferns that creep out of every cranny in the ruined horizon, new +interests steal imperceptibly into life. There come new faces, new +loves, new thoughts, and new sympathies. The heart responds to fresh +influences and bravely declines to die. And whilst the days that are +dead are embalmed in costliest spices, and lie in the most holy place +of the temple of memory, the soul discovers with surprise that it has +surmounted the cruel shock of earlier shipwreck, and can once more +greet the sea. + +I am writing in days of war. The situation is without precedent. A +dozen nations are in death-grips with each other. Twenty million men +are in the field. Every hour brings us news of ships that have been +sunk, regiments that have been annihilated, thousands of brave men who +have been slaughtered. Never since the world began were so many men +writhing in mortal anguish, so many women weeping, so many children +fatherless. And whilst a hundred thousand women know that they will +see no more the face that was all the world to them, millions of others +are sleepless with haunting fear and terrible anxiety. And every day I +hear good men moan that the world can never be the same again. 'We +shall never get over it!' they tell me. It is the old mistake, the +mistake that we always make in the hour of our sad and bitter grief. +'We shall never get over it!' Of course we shall! And as the fields +are sweeter, and the flowers exhale a richer perfume, after the +thunder-clouds have broken and the storm has spent its strength, so we +shall find ourselves living in a kindlier world when the anguish of +to-day is over-past. Much of our old civilization, with its veneer of +politeness and its heart of barbarism, will have been riven as the +ranges were riven by the earthquake. But out of the wreckage shall +come the healthier day. The wounds will heal as they always heal, and +the scars will stay as they always stay; but they will stay to warn us +against perpetuating our ancient follies. Empires will never again +regard their militarism as their pride. + +Surely this torrent of blood that is streaming through the trenches and +crimsoning the seas is sacrificial blood! It is an ancient principle, +and of loftiest sanction, that it is sometimes good for one man to die +that many may be saved from destruction. If, out of its present agony, +the world emerges into the peace and sunshine of a holier day, every +man who laid down his life in the awful struggle will have died in that +sacred and vicarious way. This generation will have wept and bled and +suffered that unborn generations may go scatheless. It is the old +story: + + No mortal born without the dew + Of solemn pain on mother's brow; + No harvest's golden yield save through + The toil and tearing of the plough. + +It was only through the Cross that the Saviour of men found a way into +the joy that was set before Him, and the world therefore cannot expect +to come to its own along a bloodless road. + +The recuperative forces that lurk within us are the divinest things +about us. I cut my hand; and, before the knife is well out of the +gash, a million invisible agents are at work to repair the damage. It +is our irrepressible faculty for getting over things. No minister can +have failed, at some time or other, to stand in amazement before it. +We have all known men who were not only wicked, but who bore in their +body the marks of their vice. It was stamped upon the face; it was +evident in the stoop of the frame; it betrayed itself in the shuffle +that should have been a stride. We have known such men, I say, and +heard their pitiful confessions. And the most heartrending thing about +them was their despair. They could believe that the love of God was +vast enough to find room for them; but just look! 'Look at me!' a man +said to me one night, remembering what he once was and surveying the +wreckage that remained, 'look at me!' And truly it was a sight to make +angels weep. 'I can never be the same again,' he said in effect, 'I +can never get over it!' But he did; and there is as much difference +between the man that I saw that night and the man who greets me to-day +as there was between the man whom he remembered and the man he then +surveyed. It is wonderful how the old light returns to the eye, the +old grace to the form, the old buoyancy to the step, and how, with +these, a new softness creeps into the countenance and a new gentleness +into the voice when the things that wound are thrown away and the +healing powers get their chance. It is only then that we really +discover the marvel of getting over things. + +Indeed, unless we are on our guard this magical faculty will be our +undoing. The tendency is, as we have seen, to return to our earlier +state, to recover from the change. And the forces that work in that +direction do not pause to ask if the change that has come about is a +change for the better or a change for the worse. They only know that a +cataclysmic change has been effected, and that it is their business to +help us back to our first and natural condition. But there are changes +that sometimes overtake us from which we do not wish to recover; and we +must be on ceaseless vigil against the well-meaning forces that only +live to abolish all signs of alteration. No man ever yet threw on his +old self and entered into new life without being conscious that +millions of invisible toilers were at work to undo the change that had +been effected. They are helping him to get over it, and he must firmly +decline their misdirected offices. + +'"Father!" said young Dr. Ralph Dexter to the old doctor in _The +Spinner in the Sun_, "father! it may be because I'm young, but I hold +before me, very strongly, the ideals of our profession. It seems to me +a very beautiful and wonderful life that is opening up before me, +always to help, to give, to heal. I feel as though I had been +dedicated to some sacred calling, some lifelong service. And service +means brotherhood." + +'"_You'll get over that!_" returned the old doctor curtly, yet not +without a certain secret admiration. "_You'll get over that_ when +you've had to engage a lawyer to collect your modest wages for your +uplifting work, the healed not being sufficiently grateful to pay the +healer. When you've gone ten miles in the dead of winter, at midnight, +to take a pin out of a squalling baby's back, why, you may change your +mind!"' + +And later on in the same story Myrtle Reed gives us another dialogue +between the two doctors. + +'"I may be wrong," remarked Ralph, "but I've always believed that +nothing is so bad that it can't be made better." + +'"The unfailing earmark of youth," the old man replies; "_you'll get +over that!_"' + +Old Dr. Dexter is quite right. Good or bad, the tendency is to get +over things. Many a man has entered his business or profession with +the highest and most roseate ideals, and the tragedy of his life lay in +the fact that he recovered from them. + +Yes, there is nothing that we cannot get over. Our recuperative +faculties know no limit. None of our diseases are incurable. I knew +an old lady who really thought that her malady was fatal. She fancied +that she could never recover. She even told me that the doctor had +informed her that her case was hopeless. She lay back upon her pillow, +and her snowy hair shamed the whiteness about her. 'I shall never get +over it,' she sighed, '_I shall never get over it!_' But she did. We +sang 'Rock of Ages' beside her sunlit grave this afternoon. + + + + +V + +NAMING THE BABY + +Wild horses shall not drag from me the wonderful secret that suggested +my theme. Suffice it to say that it had to do with the naming of a +baby. And the naming of a baby is really one of the most momentous +events upon which the sentinel stars look down. There is more in it +than a cursory observer would suppose. Tennyson recognized this when +his first son was born, the son who was destined to become the +biographer of his distinguished sire and the Governor-General of our +Australian Commonwealth. Whilst revelling in the proud ecstasies of +early fatherhood, he sought the companionship of his intimate friend, +Henry Hallam, the historian. They were strolling together one day in a +beautiful English churchyard. + +'What name do you mean to give him?' asked Hallam. + +'Well, we thought of calling him Hallam,' replied the poet. + +'Oh! had you not better call him Alfred, after yourself?' suggested the +historian. + +'Aye!' replied the naïve bard, '_but what if he should turn out to be a +fool?_' + +Ah, there's the rub. It turned out all right, as it happened. The boy +was no fool, as the world very well knows; but if you examine the story +under a microscope you will discover that it is encrusted with a golden +wealth of philosophy. For the point is that the baby's name sets +before the baby a certain standard of achievement. The baby's name +commits the baby to something. Names, even in the ordinary life of the +home and the street, are infinitely more than mere tags attached to us +for purposes of convenience and identification. + +In describing the striking experiences through which he passed on being +made a freeman, Booker T. Washington, the slave who carved his way to +statesmanship, tells us that his greatest difficulty lay in regard to a +name. Slaves have no names; no authentic genealogy; no family history; +no ancestral traditions. They have, therefore, nothing to live up to. +Mr. Booker Washington himself invented his own name. 'More than once,' +he says 'I tried to picture myself in the position of a boy or man with +an honoured and distinguished ancestry. As it is, I have no idea who +my grandmother was. The very fact that the white boy is conscious +that, if he fails, he will disgrace the whole family record is of +tremendous value in helping him to resist temptations. And the fact +that the individual has behind him a proud family history serves as a +stimulus to help him to overcome obstacles when striving for success.' +Every student of biography knows how frequently men have been +restrained from doing evil, or inspired to lofty achievement, by the +honour in which a cherished memory has compelled them to hold the names +they are allowed to bear. Every schoolboy knows the story of the +Grecian coward whose name was Alexander. His cowardice seemed the more +contemptible because of his distinguished name; and his commander, +Alexander the Great, ordered him either to change his name or to prove +himself brave. + +I notice that the American people have lately been rudely awakened to a +recognition of the fact that a nation that can boast of a splendid +galaxy of illustrious names stands involved, not only in a great and +priceless heritage, but also in a weighty national responsibility. +Three citizens of the United States, bearing three of the most +distinguished names in American history, have recently figured with +painful prominence before the criminal courts of that country. 'It is +not rarely,' as a leading American journal remarks, 'that a man who has +acquired credit and reputation ruins his own good name by some act of +fraud or passion. It is much rarer that the case appears of one who +soils the good name of a distinguished father. But it is without +parallel that three names, borne by men the most famous in our annals, +should all have been so foully soiled by their sons.' And the pitiable +element in the case is not relieved by the circumstance that these +unhappy men have clearly inherited, with their fathers' names, +something of their fathers' genius. The fact is that American soil has +proved singularly congenial to the growth of greatness. The length of +America's scroll of fame is altogether out of proportion to the brevity +of her history. The stirring epochs of her short career have developed +a phenomenal wealth of leaders in all the arts and crafts of national +life. In statesmanship, in arms, in letters, and in inventive science, +she can produce a record of which many nations, very much older, might +be pardonably proud. And she therefore displays a perfectly natural +and honourable solicitude when she looks with serious concern on the +untoward happenings that have recently smudged some of those fair names +which she so justly regards as the shining hoard and cherished legacy +which have been bequeathed to her by a singularly eventful past. + +'Names!' exclaims Carlyle's Teufelsdrockh. 'Could I unfold the +influence of names, I were a second greater Trismegistus!' Names +occupy a place in literature peculiarly their own. From Homer +downwards, all great writers have recognized their magical value. The +most superficial readers of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ must have +noticed how liberally every page is sprinkled with capital letters. +The name of a god or of a hero blazes like an oriflamme in almost every +line. And Macaulay, in accounting for the peculiar charm of Milton, +says that none of his poems are more generally known or more frequently +repeated than those that are little more than muster-rolls of names. +'They are not always more appropriate,' he says, 'or more melodious +than other names. But they are charmed names. Every one of them is +the first link in a long chain of associated ideas. Like the +dwelling-place of our infancy revisited in manhood, like the song of +our country heard in a strange land, these names produce upon us an +effect wholly independent of their intrinsic value. One transports us +back to a remote period of history. Another places us among the novel +scenes and manners of a distant region. A third evokes all the dear, +classical recollections of childhood--the schoolroom, the dog-eared +Virgil, the holiday, and the prize. A fourth brings before us the +splendid phantoms of chivalrous romance--the trophied lists, the +embroidered housings, the quaint devices, the haunted forests, the +enchanted gardens, the achievements of enamoured knights, and the +smiles of rescued princesses.' + +To tell the whole truth, I rather suspect that Macaulay appreciated +this subtle art so highly in Milton because he himself had mastered the +trick so thoroughly. He knew what magic slumbered in that wondrous +wand. His own dexterity in conjuring with heroic names is at least as +marvellous as Milton's. In his _Victorian Age in Literature_, Mr. G. +K. Chesterton says that Macaulay felt and used names like trumpets. +'The reader's greatest joy is in the writer's own joy,' he says, 'when +he can let his last phrase fall like a hammer on some resounding names, +such as Hildebrand or Charlemagne, the eagles of Rome or the pillars of +Hercules. As with Sir Walter Scott, some of the best things in his +prose and poetry are the surnames that he did not make. That is +exactly where Macaulay is great. He is almost Homeric. The whole +triumph turns upon mere names.' We have all wondered at the uncanny +ingenuity that Bunyan and Dickens displayed in the manufacture of names +to suit their droll and striking characters; but we are compelled to +confess that Homer and Milton and Macaulay reveal a still higher phase +of genius, for they succeed in marshalling with rhythmic and dramatic +effect the actual names that living men have borne, and in weaving +those names into glorious pageants of extraordinary impressiveness and +splendour. + +It is very odd, the way in which history and prophecy meet and mingle +in the naming of the baby. A friend of mine has just named his child +after John Wesley. He has clearly done so in the fond hope that the +august virtues of the great Methodist may be duplicated and revived in +a generation that is coming. It is an ingenious device for +transferring the moral excellences of the remote past to the dim and +distant regions of an unborn future. The phenomenon sometimes becomes +positively pathetic. I remember reading, in the stirring annals of the +Melanesian Mission, of a native boy whom Bishop John Selwyn had in +training at Norfolk Island. He had been brought from one of the most +barbarous of the South Sea peoples, and did not promise particularly +well. One day Bishop Selwyn had occasion to rebuke him for his +stubborn and refractory behaviour. The boy instantly flew into a +passion and struck the Bishop a cruel blow in the face. It was an +unheard-of incident, and all who saw it stood aghast. The Bishop said +nothing, but turned and walked quietly away. The conduct of the lad +continued to be most recalcitrant, and he was at last returned to his +own island as incorrigible. There he soon relapsed into all the +debasements of a savage and cannibal people. Many years afterwards a +missionary on that island was summoned post-haste to visit a sick man. +It proved to be Dr. Selwyn's old student. He was dying, and desired +Christian baptism. The missionary asked him by what name he would like +to be known. 'Call me John Selwyn,' the dying man replied, 'because +_he taught me what Christ was like_ that day when I struck him.' + +We have a wonderful way of associating certain qualities with certain +names. The name becomes fragrant, not as the rose is fragrant, but as +the clay is fragrant that has long lain with the rose. I see that two +European newspapers have recently taken a vote as to the most popular +name for a boy and the most popular name for a girl. And in the result +the names of John and Mary hopelessly outdistanced all competitors. +But why? There is nothing in the name of John or in that of Mary to +account for such general attachment. Some names, like Lily, or Rose, +or Violet, suggest beautiful images, and are loved on that account. +But the name of John and the name of Mary suggest nothing but the +memory of certain wearers. How, then, are we to account for it? The +riddle is easily read. Long, long ago, on a green hill far away, there +stood by the cross of Jesus His mother, and the disciple whom Jesus +loved. And, when Mary left that awful and tragic scene, she left it, +as Jesus Himself desired that she should leave it, leaning on the arm +of John. And because those two were first in the human love of Jesus, +their names have occupied a place of special fondness in the hearts of +all men ever since. Like the fly held in the amber, the memory of +great and sterling qualities is encased and perpetuated in the very +names we bear. + +I like to dwell on that memorable scene that took place at the burial +of Longfellow. A notable company gathered at the poet's funeral; and, +among them, Emerson came up from Concord. His brilliant and majestic +powers were in ruins. He stood for a long, long time looking down into +the quiet, dead face of Longfellow, but said nothing. At last he +turned sadly away, and, as he did so, he remarked to those who stood +reverently by, 'The gentleman we are burying to-day was a sweet and +beautiful soul, _but I forget his name!_' Yes, that is the beauty of +it all. The name perpetuates and celebrates the memory of the +goodness; but the memory of the goodness lingers after the memory of +the name is lost. I shall enjoy the fragrance of the roses over my +lattice when I can no longer recall the names by which they are +distinguished. + +Mrs. Booth used to love to tell a beautiful story of a man whose +saintly life left its permanent and gracious impress upon her own. He +seemed to grow in grace and charm and in all nobleness with every day +he lived. At the last he could speak of nothing but the glories of his +Saviour, and his face was radiant with awe and affection whenever he +mentioned that holy name. It chanced that, as he was dying, a document +was discovered that imperatively required his signature. He held the +pen for one brief moment, wrote, and fell back upon the pillows, dead. +And on the paper he had written, not his own name, but the Name that is +above every name. Within sight of the things within the veil, that +seemed to be the only name that mattered. + + + + +VI + +THE MISTRESS OF THE MARGIN + +I love a margin. There is something delicious, luxurious, glorious in +the spacious field of creamy paper bounded by the black letterpress on +the one side and the gilt edges on the other. Could anything be more +abominable than a book that is printed to the uttermost extremities of +every page? It is an outrage, I aver, on human nature. Indeed, it is +an outrage upon Nature herself, for Nature loves her margins even more +than I do. She goes in for margins on a truly stupendous scale. She +wants a bird, so a dozen are hatched. She knows perfectly well that +eleven out of the twelve are merely margin. She will throw them to the +cats, and the foxes, and the weasels, and the snakes, and only keep the +best of the batch. She wants a tree, so she plants a hundred. She +knows that ninety and nine are margin, to be browsed down by cattle, +but she means to make sure of her one. 'The roe of a cod,' Grant Alien +tells me, 'contains nearly ten million eggs; but, if each of those eggs +produced a young fish which arrived at maturity, the whole sea would +immediately become a solid mass of closely packed cod-fish.' But +Nature has no intention of turning her bright blue ocean into a +gigantic box of sardines; she is simply providing herself with a +margin. Linnaeus says that a fly may multiply itself ten thousandfold +in a fortnight. If this increase continued during the three summer +months, he says, one fly at the beginning of summer would produce one +hundred millions of millions of millions before the three months were +over, and the air would be black with the horror. The probability, +however, is that there are never one hundred millions of millions of +millions of flies in the whole world. Nature is not arranging for a +repetition of the plague of Egypt; she is simply gratifying her +appetite for a margin. As Tennyson sings in 'In Memoriam,' + + of fifty seeds + She often brings but one to bear. + + +So I suppose I learned my love of margins from her. At any rate, if +anybody thinks me extravagant, they must quarrel with her and not with +me. + +I fancy there's a good deal in it. It is the margin that makes all the +difference. If the work that absolutely must be done occupies every +waking moment of my time, I am a slave; but if it leaves a margin of a +single hour, I am in clover. If my receipts will only just balance my +expenditure, I am living a mere hand-to-mouth existence; but if they +leave me a margin, I jingle the odd coins in my pocket with the pride +of a prince. Mr. Micawber's philosophy comes back to us. 'Annual +income--twenty pounds; annual expenditure--nineteen nineteen six; +result--_happiness_. Annual income--twenty pounds; annual +expenditure--twenty pounds ought and six; result--_misery_.' I believe +that one of the supreme aims of a man's life should be to secure a +margin. Nature does it, and we must copy her. A good life, like a +good book, should have a good margin. I hate books whose pages are so +crowded that you cannot handle them without putting your thumbs on the +type. And, in exactly the same way, there are very few things more +repelling than the feeling that a man has no time for you. It may be a +most excellent book; but if it has no margin, I shall never grow fond +of it. He may be a most excellent man; but if he lacks leisure, +restfulness, poise, I shall never be able to love him. + +It is difficult to account for it; but the fact most certainly is that +the most winsome people in the world are the people who make you feel +that they are never in a hurry. The man whom you trust most readily is +the man with a little time to spare, or who makes you think that he +has. When my life gets tangled and twisted, and I want a minister to +help me, I shall be too timid to approach the man who is always in a +fluster. I feel instinctively that he is far too busy for poor me. He +tears through life like a superannuated whirlwind. If I meet him on +the street, his coat tails are always flying out behind him; his eyes +wear a hunted look; and a sense of feverish haste is stamped upon his +countenance. He reminds me of poor John Gilpin, for it is always neck +or nothing with him. He seems to be everlastingly consulting his +watch, and is always muttering something about his next engagement. He +gets through an amazing number of odd jobs in the course of a day, and +his diary will be a wonder to posterity. But he would be much better +off in the long run if he cultivated a margin. He makes people feel at +present that he is too busy for them. A poor woman, who is in great +trouble about her son, heard him preach last Sunday, and felt that she +would give anything to have a quiet talk with him about her sorrow, and +kneel with him as he commended both her and her wayward boy to the +Throne of the heavenly grace. But she dreads to be caught in the whirl +of his week-a-day flurry, and stays away, her grief eating her heart +out the while. A shrinking young girl is in perplexity about her love +affairs, and she feels sure, from some things he said in his sermon a +few weeks ago, that he could help her. But she remembers that in his +study he keeps a motto to remind her that his time is precious. If the +words 'Beware of the dog!' were painted on his study door, they could +not be more terrifying. She fears that, before she has half unfolded +the tender tale that she scarcely likes to tell, his hand will be upon +the doorknob. The tendency of the time is indisputably towards +flurry--the flurry of business or the flurry of pleasure. I feel very +sorry for these busy folk. Their energy is prodigious. But, for all +that, they are losing life's best. Surely William Cowper had a secret +in his soul when he told us that, in his mad career, John Gilpin lost +the wine! + + 'And now, as he went bowing down, + His reeking head full low, + The bottles twain behind his back + Were shattered at a blow + + Down ran the wine into the road, + Most piteous to be seen, + Which made his horses' flanks to smoke + As they had basted been. + + +It is very easy to go too fast. In his _Forest_, Mr. Stewart White +gives us some lessons in bushmanship. 'As long as you restrain +yourself,' he says, 'to a certain leisurely plodding, you get along +without extraordinary effort; but even a slight increase of speed drags +fiercely at your feet. One good step is worth six stumbling steps; go +only fast enough to assure that good one. An expert woods-walker is +never in a hurry.' I was chatting the other day with the captain of a +great steamship. The vessel is capable of steaming at the rate of +seventeen knots an hour; but I noticed from the log that she never +exceeds fifteen. I asked the reason. 'It is too expensive!' the +captain answered. And then he told me the difference in the +consumption of coal between steaming at fifteen and steaming at +seventeen knots an hour. It was astounding. I recognized at once his +wisdom in keeping the margin. When I next meet my busy brother, I +shall tell him the story--if he can spare the time to listen. For, +apart from the expense to himself of driving the engines at that high +pressure, and apart from the loss of the wine, I feel sure that the +folk who most need him love the ministry of a man with a margin. Even +as I write, there rush back upon my mind the memories of the great +doctors and eminent lawyers whose biographies I have read. How careful +these busy men were to convey a certain impression of leisureliness! +It will never do for a doctor to burst in upon his poor feverish +patient, and throw everything into commotion. And see how composedly +the lawyer listens to his client's tale! Wise men these; and I must +not be too proud to learn from them. + +Great souls have ever been leisurely souls. I have no right to allow +the rush and throb and tear of life to rob me of my restfulness. I +must keep a quiet heart. I must be jealous of my margins. I must find +time to climb the hills, to scour the valleys, to explore the bush, to +row on the river, to stroll along the sands, to poke among the rocks, +and to fish in the stream. I must cultivate the friendship of the +fields and the ferns and the flowers. I must lie back in my easy +chair, with my feet on the fender, and laugh with my friends. And pity +me, men and angels, if I am too busy to romp with the children and to +tell them a tale if they want it! There are many things in a man's +life that he can give up, just as there are many things in a book that +can be skipped, but the last thing to go must be the margin. + +Now, rising from my desk for a moment, just to stretch my legs a +little, I glance out of my study window at the busy world outside. I +see men making bargains, reading newspapers, and talking politics. And +really, when you come to analyse the thing, this matter of the margin +touches that bustling world at every point. To begin with, the +essential difference between life here in Australia and life in the old +world is mainly a difference in the breadth of the margin. Here life +is not so hemmed in and cramped up as it must of necessity be there. +Then, too, the whole tendency of modern legislation is in the direction +of widening the margin. Everything tends to increase the leisure of +the people. Early closing has come into its own. Shopkeepers put up +their shutters quite early in the evening; the hours of the labourer +have been considerably curtailed; and in other ways the leisure of the +people has been greatly increased. Now in this broadening of life's +margin there lie both tremendous possibilities and tremendous perils. +The idleness of an entire community during a considerable proportion of +its waking hours may become a huge national asset or a serious menace +to the general wellbeing. People are too apt to suppose that character +is determined by the main business of life. It is a fallacy. It is, +as I have said, the margin that really matters. There is a section of +time that remains to a man after the main business of life has been +dealt with. It is the use to which that margin is put that reveals the +true propensities of the individual and that, in the long run, +determines the destiny of the nation. + +Here, for example, are two bricklayers. They walk down the street side +by side on their way to their work. From the time that the hour +strikes for them to commence operations until the time comes to lay +aside their trowels for the day, they are pretty much alike. The one +may be a philosopher and the other a scoundrel; but these traits will +have small opportunity of betraying themselves as they chip away at the +bricks in their hands, and ply their busy tasks. The intellectual +proclivities of the one, and the vicious propensities of the other, +will be held in the severest restraint as they labour side by side. +The inexorable laws of industrial competition will keep their work up +to a certain standard of excellence. But the moment that the tools are +thrown aside the character of each man stands revealed. He is his own +master. He is like a hound unleashed, and will now follow his bent +without let or hindrance. And the more the State restricts the hours +of toil, and multiplies the hours of leisure, the more does it increase +the possibilities of good in the one case and the perils of evil-doing +in the other. It is during that lengthened leisure that the one will +apply himself to self-improvement, and, by developing himself, will +increase the value of his citizenship to the State; and it is during +that prolonged immunity from restraint that the other will compass his +own deterioration and exert his influence for the general +impoverishment. + +Precisely the same law holds good in relation to the expenditure of +money. The way in which a people spends its money represents the most +crucial test of national character. If a man spends his money wisely, +he is a wise man; if he spends his money foolishly, he is a foolish +man. But it is not along the main line of expenditure that the +revelation is made. The principal items of expenditure are inevitable, +and beyond the control of the individual, whoever or whatever he may +be. A man must eat and wear clothes, whether he be a burglar or a +bishop. The butcher, the baker, the grocer, and the milkman will call +at every door; and you cannot argue as to the morals of a man from the +fact that he eats bread, that he is fond of beef, or that he takes +sugar with his porridge. There are certain main lines of expenditure +along which each man, whatever his characteristics and idiosyncrasies, +is resistlessly driven. But after he has submitted to this stern +compulsion, and has paid his butcher, his baker, his grocer, and his +milkman, then comes the test. What about the margin? Is there a +margin? For upon the margin everything depends. We will suppose that, +after paying for the things that he eats and the things that he wears, +he still jingles in his pocket a dozen coins, with which he may do +exactly as he likes. Now it is in the expenditure of that margin of +money--as, in the other case, it was in the expenditure of that margin +of leisure--that the real man will reveal himself. It is the use to +which he puts that margin that declares his true character and +determines the contribution that he, as an individual citizen, will +make to the national weal or woe. + +Now, if this broadening margin means anything at all, it means that the +responsibilities of the Church are increasing. For the Church is +essentially the Mistress of the Margin. Concerning the expenditure of +the hours occupied with labour, and concerning the money spent in the +actual requisites of life, the statesman may have something to say. +Legislation may deal with the hours of labour and the rate of wages. +It may even influence the precise amount of the butcher's or the +baker's bills. But when it comes to the hours that follow toil, and to +the cash that remains after the principal accounts have been paid, the +legislator finds himself in difficulties. He has come to the end of +his tether. He cannot direct the people as to how to spend their spare +cash. And, as we have seen, it is just this spare time and spare cash +that determine everything. It is the dominating and deciding factor in +the whole situation. It is manifest, therefore, that, important as are +the functions of statesmanship, the really fundamental factors of +individual conduct and of national life elude the most searching +enactments of the most vigilant legislators. As the hours of labour +shorten, and the margin of spare cash increases, the authority of the +legislator becomes less and less; and the need for some force that +shall shape the moral tone of the people becomes greater and greater. +If the Church cannot supply that force, and become the Mistress of the +Margin, the outlook is by no means reassuring. On one phase of this +matter of the margin the Church holds a wonderful secret. She knows +that there are people who, through no fault of their own, are +marginless. They have neither a moment nor a penny to spare. +Sickness, trouble, and the war of the world have been too much for +them. They are right up against the wall; and they know it. But the +matter does not end there. I remember once entering a dingy little +dwelling in the slums of London. In the squalid room a cripple girl +sat sewing, and as she sewed she sang: + + My Father is rich in houses and lands, + He holdeth the wealth of the world in His hands! + Of rubies and diamonds, of silver and gold, + His coffers are full--He has riches untold. + I'm the child of a King! the child of a King! + With Jesus my Saviour, I'm the child of a King! + +What did this mean but that she had discovered that her cramped and +narrow life had a spacious white margin after all? In a recent speech +at Glasgow, Mr. Lloyd George told a fine story of a quaint old Welsh +preacher who was conducting the funeral service of a poor old fellow, a +member of his church, who, through no fault of his own, had had a very +bad time of it. They could hardly find a space in the churchyard for +his tomb. At last they got enough to make a brickless grave amidst +towering monuments that pressed upon it, and the old minister, standing +above it, said, 'Well, Davie, vach, you have had a narrow time right +through life, and you have a very narrow place in death; but never you +mind, old friend, I can see a day dawning for you when you will rise +out of your narrow bed, and find plenty of room at the last. Ah!' he +cried in a burst of natural eloquence, 'I can see it coming! I can see +the day of the resurrection! I can see the dawn of immortality! There +will be room, room, room, even for the poor! The light of that morning +already gilds the hilltops!' What did he mean, that old Welsh +minister, as he shaded his eyes with his hands and looked towards the +East? He was pointing away from life's black and crowded letterpress +to the white and spacious margin--the margin with the gilt edge--that +was all. + + + + +VII + +LILY + +I was once advised to write a novel. I scouted the suggestion at the +time; I scout it still. If you write a novel, you run a great risk. +One of these days somebody may read it--you never know what queer +things people may do nowadays. And if somebody should read it, your +secret is out, and the paucity of your imagination stands grimly +exposed. No, I shall not write a novel, although this article will be +something in the nature of a novelette. For I have found a heroine, +and many a full-blown novelist, having found a heroine, would consider +that he had come upon a novel ready made. My heroine is Lily; and +Lily--to break the news gently--was a pig. I say _was_ advisedly, for +Lily is dead, and therein lies the pathos of my story. And so I have +my heroine, and I have my story, and I have my strong suffusion of +sentiment all ready to my hand; and really, I feel half inclined to +write my novel after all. But let me state the facts--for which I am +prepared to vouch--and then it will be time enough to see if we can +weave them into a great and classical romance. + +Away on the top of a hill, in a rural district of Tasmania, there +stands a quaint little cottage. Down the slopes around, and away along +the distant valleys, are great belts of virgin bush. But here on the +hill is our quaint little cottage, and in or about the cottage you will +find a quaint little couple. They may not be able to discuss the +latest aspects of the Balkan question, or the Irish crisis, or the +Mexican embroglio; but they can discuss questions that are very much +older and that are likely to last very much longer. For they can +discuss fowls and sheep and pigs; and, depend upon it, fowls and sheep +and pigs were discussed long before the Balkan question was dreamed of, +and fowls and sheep and pigs will be discussed long after the Balkan +question is forgotten. And so the old couple make you feel ashamed of +your simpering superficiality; you are amazed that you can have grown +so excited about the things of a moment; and you blush for your own +ignorance of the things that were and are and shall be. Yes, John and +Mary can discuss fowls, for they have a dozen of them, and they call +each bird by name. Whilst poor Mary's back was turned for a moment the +rooster flew on to the table. + +'Really, Tom, you naughty boy!' she cried, on discovering the outrage. +'I am ashamed of you!' And to impress the whole feathered community +with the enormity of the offence, she proceeded to drive them all out +of the kitchen. + +'Go on, Lucie,' she cried, a note of sadness betraying itself in her +voice in spite of her assumed severity. 'Go on, Lucie,' and she +flapped her apron to show that she meant it, much as an advancing army +might defiantly flutter its flag. 'Go on; and you too, Minnie; and +Nellie, and Kate, and Nancie; you must all go! It was a dreadful thing +to do; I don't know what you were thinking of, Tom!' I said that John +and Mary could discuss sheep; but their flock was a very limited one, +for it consisted entirely of Birdie, the pet lamb. I cannot +tell--probably through some defect in my imagination--why they called +him 'Birdie,' nor, for the matter of that, why they called him a lamb. +I can imagine that he may have been a lamb once; but of feathers I +could discover no trace at all. Yes, after all, these are prosaic +details, and only show how incompetent a novelist I should prove to be. +I grovel when I ought to soar. John and Mary were very fond of Birdie, +and Birdie was very fond of them. He came trotting up when he was +called, wagging his long tail as though it were proof positive that he +was still a lamb. It was scarcely a triumph of logic on Birdie's part, +and yet it was just about as good as the artistic subterfuges by which +lots of us try to convince the world and his wife that we are still in +the charming stage of lamb-like simplicity. And then there was Lily. + +The old couple were very fond of Lily. How carefully they made her bed +on cold nights! How considerately they fed her on boiled potatoes, +skim milk, and other wondrous delicacies! She, too, came shambling up +whenever she heard her name, and, with a grunt, acknowledged their +bounty. 'Dear old Lily,' poor Mary exclaimed fervently, as Lily lifted +her snout to be rubbed, and looked with queer, piggish eyes into those +of her doting mistress. + +Yes, Lily was a pig, but she was none the worse for that; and if any +ridiculous person objects to my taking a pig for my heroine, I shall +take offence and write no more novels. Lily, I repeat, was none the +worse for being a pig. And I am sure that John and Mary were none the +worse for loving her. It is always safe to love, for if you love that +which cannot profit by your love, your love comes back to you, like +Noah's dove, and you yourself are none the poorer. But I am not at all +sure that affection was wasted on Lily. Why should it be? There is no +disgrace in being born a pig. It did not even show bad taste on Lily's +part, for Lily was not asked. She came; and found, on arrival, that +she was what men called a pig; and as a pig she performed her part so +well that those who knew her grew very fond of her. What more can the +best of us do? And, after all, why this squeamishness? Why this +revulsion of feeling when I announce that my heroine is a pig? I aver +that it is a species of snobbery--a very contemptible species of +snobbery. Booker Washington used to declare that a high-grade +Berkshire boar, or a Poland China sow, is one of the finest sights on +this planet. And one of our own philosophers has gone into rhapsodies +over the pig. 'Pigs,' he says, 'always seem to me like a fallen race +that has seen better days. They are able, intellectual, inquisitive +creatures. When they are driven from place to place, they are not +gentle or meek, like cows and sheep, who follow the line of least +resistance. The pig is suspicious and cautious; he is sure that there +is some uncomfortable plot on foot, not wholly for his good, which he +must try to thwart if he can. Then, too, he never seems quite at home +in his deplorably filthy surroundings; he looks at you, up to the knees +in ooze, out of his little eyes as if he would live in a more cleanly +way if he were permitted. Pigs always remind me of the mariners of +Homer, who were transformed by Circe; there is a dreadful humanity +about them, as if they were trying to endure their base conditions +philosophically, waiting for their release.' All this I entreat my +critic to lay well to heart before he judges me too severely for +selecting Lily as my heroine. + +I suppose the truth is, if only my supercilious critics could be +trusted to tell the whole truth, that Lily is not good-looking enough +for them. But that, again, is all a question of taste. Beauty is +relative and not absolute. My critics may themselves be at fault. The +real trouble may be, not want of comeliness in Lily, but a sad lack of +appreciation in themselves. I notice that the champion Yorkshire sow +at the Sydney Show this year was Mr. E. Jenkins' 'Queen of Beauty'; and +as I gazed upon her photograph and noted her alluring name, I thought +once more of Lily and laughed in my sleeve at my critics. I once spent +a week with an old Lincolnshire gentleman at Kirwee, in New Zealand; +and almost before I had been able to bolt the meal that awaited my +arrival, he begged me to come and see the pigs. And at the very first +animal to which we came my happy host rubbed his hands in an ecstasy of +pride, whilst his eyes fairly sparkled. 'Bean't he a beauty?' he asked +me excitedly. And I answered confidently that he was. I could see at +a glance that the pig was a beauty _to him_; and if he was a beauty to +him, he _was_ a beauty, and there remained no more to be said. I +remember reading a story of two ministers who met beneath the +hospitable roof of an old-fashioned English farm-house. One of them no +sooner approached the table than he uttered an exclamation of delight. +Picking up one of the cups, he spoke of the wonderful beauty of the +china. He held the plates up to the light and asked the others to see +how thin they were, and went into ecstasies over the wondrous old china +that had been in the farm-house for many generations. The other took +little interest in his talk, and could not be aroused to enthusiasm +over the china; but when the farmer took out of his cupboard some old +books, one of which was a black-letter commentary, he became excited. +He turned the pages over lovingly, and pointed to the quaint initials, +and became eloquent over their beauties. The farmer thought both men +silly. Neither the china nor the books seemed precious to him. 'What +a heap o' nonsense ye be talking surely,' he said. 'Now if ye want to +see something worth seeing, come along o' me, and I'll show you the +finest litter o' pigs in the country.' + +I know, of course, that, beaten at every other point, my critics will +take their stand on dietetic grounds. 'How can you have a pig for your +heroine?' they will ask, with their noses turned up in disgust. 'See +what a pig _eats_!' Now I confess that this objection did appear to me +to be serious until I went into the matter a little more carefully. +Before abandoning poor Lily, and consigning her to everlasting +obscurity, it seemed to me that I owed it to her, as a matter of common +gallantry, to investigate this charge. An author has no more right +than any other man to toy with feminine affections; and having pledged +myself to Lily as my heroine, I dared not commit a breach of promise, +save on most serious grounds. Into this matter of Lily's diet I +therefore plunged, with results that have surprised myself. I find +that Lily is the most fastidious of eaters. Experiments made in Sweden +show that, out of 575 plants, the goat eats 449, and refuses 126; the +sheep, out of 528 plants, eats 387, and refuses 141; the cow, out of +494 plants, eats 276, and refuses 218; the horse, out of 474 plants, +eats 262, and refuses 212; whilst the pig, out of 243 plants, eats 72, +and refuses 171. From all these fiery ordeals my heroine, therefore, +emerges triumphant, and her critics cut a sorry figure. Theirs is the +melancholy fate of all those who will insist on judging from +appearances. It is the oldest mistake in the world, and it is +certainly the saddest. Many, like Lily, have been judged hastily and +falsely, and, as in Lily's case, the evil thought has clung to them as +though it were a charge established, and under that dark cloud they +have lived shadowed and embittered lives. Half the pathos of the +universe lies just there. + +One thing affords me unbounded pleasure. If I take Lily for my heroine +after all, I shall be following a noble precedent--Michael Fairless, in +_The Roadmender_, did something very much like it. 'In early spring,' +she says, 'I took a long tramp. Towards afternoon, tired and thirsty, +I sought water at a little lonely cottage. Bees worked and sang over +the thyme and marjoram in the garden; and in a homely sty lived a +solemn black pig, a pig with a history. It was no common utilitarian +pig, but the honoured guest of the old couple who lived there; and the +pig knew it. A year before, their youngest and only surviving child, +then a man of five-and-twenty, had brought his mother the result of his +savings in the shape of a fine young pig. A week later he lay dead of +the typhoid. Hence the pig was sacred, cared for, and loved by this +Darby and Joan. + +'"'E be mos' like a child to me and the mother, an' mos' as sensible as +a Christian, 'e be," the old man said.' + +What a world of illusion this is, to be sure! It takes a good pair of +eyes to see through its good-humoured trickery. You see a pig turning +this way and that way as he wanders aimlessly about the yard, and you +never dream of romance. And yet that pig is none other than Lily! You +see another pig in a commonplace sty, and you never dream of pathos; +but old Joan wipes a tear from her eye with her apron when she +remembers how that pig came into her possession. There is a world of +poetry in pig-sties. Yes, and pathos, too, of its kind. For, as I +said, Lily is dead. It was this way. + +John and Mary are not rich; and a pig is a pig. + +'What about Lily, Mary?' John asked awkwardly one day. 'You see, Mary, +she's got to die. If we keep her, she'll die. And if we sell her, +she'll only die. If we keep her, Mary, she may die of some disease, +and we shall see her in pain. If we sell her, she will die suddenly, +and feel no pain. And then, Mary,' he continued slowly, as though +afraid to introduce so prosaic an aspect of so pathetic a theme, 'and +then, Mary, if she dies here, look at the loss, for Lily's a pig, you +know! And if we sell her, look at the gain! And with part of the +money we can get another pet, and be just as fond of it.' + +There were protests and there were tears, but Lily went to market. + +Awhile afterwards John came home from the city with a parcel. 'Mary,' +he said hesitatingly, 'I've brought ye home a bit o' Lily! I thought +I'd like to see how she'd eat.' + +Next morning at breakfast they neither of them ate heartily, but they +both tasted. There is food that is too sacred for a glut of appetite. + +'Ah, well,' said John, at last, 'those who eat Lily will none of them +say anything but good of her, that's _one_ comfort.' + +And Mary went silently off to see if she could find _another_. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MUSHROOMS ON THE MOOR*** + + +******* This file should be named 24134-8.txt or 24134-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/1/3/24134 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/24134-8.zip b/24134-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f38045d --- /dev/null +++ b/24134-8.zip diff --git a/24134.txt b/24134.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ab01ab5 --- /dev/null +++ b/24134.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6148 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mushrooms on the Moor, by Frank Boreham + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Mushrooms on the Moor + + +Author: Frank Boreham + + + +Release Date: January 3, 2008 [eBook #24134] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MUSHROOMS ON THE MOOR*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +MUSHROOMS ON THE MOOR + +by + +F. W. BOREHAM + +Author of + 'Mountains in the Mist,' + 'The Other Side of the Hill,' + 'The Golden Milestone,' + 'The Silver Shadow,' + 'The Luggage of Life,' + 'Faces in the Fire,' etc., etc. + + + + + + + +The Abingdon Press +New York ------ Cincinnati + +First American Edition Printed May, 1919 +Reprinted August, 1919; May, 1920; July 1921 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + +CHAP. + + I. A SLICE OF INFINITY + II. READY-MADE CLOTHES + III. THE HIDDEN GOLD + IV. 'SUCH A LOVELY BITE!' + V. LANDLORD AND TENANT + VI. THE CORNER CUPBOARD + VII. WITH THE WOLVES IN THE WILD + VIII. DICK SUNSHINE + IX. FORTY! + X. A WOMAN'S REASON + + +PART II + + I. THE HANDICAP + II. GOG AND MAGOG + III. MY WARDROBE + IV. 'PITY MY SIMPLICITY!' + V. TUNING FROM THE BASS + VI. A FRUITLESS DEPUTATION + VII. TRAMP! TRAMP! TRAMP! + VIII. THE FIRST MATE + + +PART III + +CHAP. + + I. WHEN THE COWS COME HOME + II. MUSHROOMS ON THE MOOR + III. ONIONS + IV. ON GETTING OVER THINGS + V. NAMING THE BABY + VI. THE MISTRESS OF THE MARGIN + VII. LILY + + + + +BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION + +I have allowed the Mushrooms on the Moor to throw the glamour of their +name over the entire volume because, in some respects, they are the +most typical and representative things in it. They express so little +but suggest so much! What fun we had, in the days of auld lang syne, +when we scoured the dewy fields in search of them! And yet how small a +proportion of our enjoyment the mushrooms themselves represented! Our +flushed cheeks, our prodigious appetites, and our boisterous merriment +told of gains immensely greater than any that our baskets could have +held. What a contrast, for example, between mushrooms from the moor on +the one hand and mushrooms from the market on the other! What memories +of the soft summer mornings; the fresh and fragrant air; the diffused +and misty sunshine; the sparkle of the dew on the tall wisps of +speargrass; the beaded and shining cobwebs; the scamper, barefooted, +across the glittering green! It was part of childhood's wild romance. +And, in the sterner days that have followed those tremendous frolics, +we have learned that life is full of just such suggestive things. As I +glance back upon the years that lie behind me, I find that they have +been almost equally divided between two hemispheres. But I have +discovered that, under any stars, + + There's part o' the sun in an apple; + There's part o' the moon in a rose; + There's part o' the flaming Pleiades + In every leaf that grows. + +And I shall reckon this book no failure if some of the ideas that I +have tried to suggest are found to point at all steadily to that +conclusion. + +FRANK W. BOREHAM. + +HOBART, TASMANIA, + JUNE, 1915. + + + + +PART I + + +I + +A SLICE OF INFINITY + +I + +Really, as I sit here in this quiet study, and glance round at the +books upon the shelves, I can scarcely refrain from laughing at the fun +we have had together. And to think of the way in which they came into +my possession! It seems like a fairy story or a chapter from romance. +If a man wants to spend an hour or so as delightfully as it is possible +to spend it, let him invite to his fireside some old and valued friend, +the companion of many a frolic and the sharer of many a sorrow; let him +seat his old comrade there in the place of honour on the opposite side +of the hearth, and then let them talk. 'Do you remember, Tom, the way +we met for the first time?' 'My word, I do! Shall I ever forget it?' +And Tom slaps his knee at the memory of it, and they enjoy a long and +hearty laugh together. It is not that the circumstances under which +they met were so ludicrous or dramatic; it is that they were so +commonplace. It seems, on looking back, the oddest chance in the world +that first brought them together, the merest whim of chance, the +veriest freak of circumstance; and yet how all life has taken its +colour and drawn its enrichment from that casual meeting! They +happened to enter the same compartment of a railway train; or they sat +next each other on the tramcar; or they walked home together from a +political meeting; or they caught each other admiring the same rose at +a flower show. Neither sought the other; neither felt the slightest +desire for the other; neither knew, until that moment, of the existence +of the other; and yet there it is! They met; and out of that +apparently accidental meeting there has sprung up a friendship that +many changes cannot change, and a love that many waters cannot quench. +Either would cross all the continents and oceans of the world to-day to +find the other; but as they remember how they met for the first time it +seems too queer to be credible. And they lie back in their easy chairs +and laugh again. + + +II + +That is why I laugh at my books. Some day I intend to draw up a list +of them and divide them into classes. In one class I shall put the +books that I bought, once upon a time, because I was given to +understand that they were the right sort of books to have. Everybody +else had them; and my shelves would therefore be scarcely decent +without them. I purchased them, accordingly, and they have stood on +the shelves there ever since. As far as I know they have done nobody +the slightest harm in all their long untroubled lives. Indeed, they +have imparted such an air of gravity, and such an odour of sanctity, to +the establishment as must have had a steadying effect on their less +sombre companions. But it is not at these formidable volumes that I am +laughing. I would not dare. I glance at them with reverential awe, +and am more than half afraid of them. Then, again, there are other +books that I bought because I felt that I needed them. And so I did, +more than perhaps I guessed when I bore them proudly home. Glorious +times I have had with them. I look up at them gratefully and lovingly. +It is not at these that I am laughing. But there are others, old and +trusted friends, that came into my life in the oddest possible way. I +do not mean that I stole them. I mean rather that they stole me. They +seemed to pounce out at me, and before I knew what had happened I +belonged to them: I certainly did not seek them. In some cases I never +heard of their existence until after they became my own. They have +since proved invaluable to me, and I can scarcely review our long +companionship without emotion. Yet when I glance up at them, and +remember the whimsical way in which we met for the first time, I can +scarce restrain my laughter. + + +III + +It was like this. Years ago I went to an auction sale. A library was +being submitted to the hammer. The books were all tied up in lots. +The work had evidently been done by somebody who knew as much about +books as a Hottentot knows about icebergs. John Bunyan was tied +tightly to Nat Gould, and Thomas Carlyle was firmly fastened to Charles +Garvice. I looked round; took a note of the numbers of those lots that +contained books that I wanted, and waited for the auctioneer to get to +business. In due time I became the purchaser of half a dozen lots. I +had bought six books that I wanted, and thirty that I didn't. Now the +question arose: What shall I do with these thirty waifs and strays? I +glanced over them and took pity on them. Many of them dealt with +matters in which I had never taken the slightest interest. But were +they to blame for that? or was I? I saw at once that the fault was +entirely mine, and that these unoffending volumes had absolutely +nothing to be ashamed of. I vowed that I would read the lot, and I +did. From one or two of them I derived as far as I know, no profit at +all. But these were the exceptions. Some of these volumes have been +the delight of my life during all the days of my pilgrimage. And as I +look tenderly up at them, as they stand in their very familiar places +before me, I salute them as the two old comrades saluted each other +across the hearthstone. But I cannot help laughing at the odd manner +of our first acquaintance. It was thus that I learned one of the most +valuable lessons that experience ever taught me. It is sometimes a +fine thing to sample infinity. + + +IV + +When I was a small boy I dreaded the policeman; when I grew older I +feared the bookseller. And as the years go by I find that my dread of +the policeman has quite evaporated, but my fear of the bookseller grows +upon me. I had an idea as a boy that one day a policeman, mistaking my +identity, would snatch me up and hurl me into some horrid little +dungeon, where I might languish for many a long day. But since I have +grown up I have discovered that it is only the bookseller who does that +sort of thing. And in his case he does it deliberately and of malice +aforethought. It is no case of mistaken identity; he knows who you +are, and he knows you are innocent. But he has his dungeon ready. The +bookseller is a very dangerous person, and every member of the +community should guard against his blandishments. It is not that he +will sell you too many books. He will probably not sell you half as +many as are good for you. But he will sell you the wrong books. He +will sell you the books you least need, and keep on his own shelves the +intellectual pabulum for which your soul is starving. And all with a +view to getting you at last into his wretched little dungeon. See how +he goes about it. A friend of yours goes to the West Indies. You +suddenly wake up to the fact that you know very little about that +wonderful region. You go to your bookseller and ask for the latest +reliable work on the West Indies. You buy it, and he, the rascal, +takes a mental note of the fact. Next time you walk into the shop he +is at you like a flash. + +'Good afternoon, sir. You are specially interested, I know, in the +West Indies. We have a very fine thing coming out now in monthly parts +. . .' + +And so on. His attribution to you of special interest in the West +Indies is no empty flattery. The book you bought on your first visit +has charmed you, and you are most deeply and sincerely interested in +those fascinating islands. You order the monthly parts and the +interest deepens. The bookseller does the thing so slyly that you do +not notice that he is boxing you up in the West Indies. He is doing in +sober fact what the policeman did in childish imagination. He is +driving us into a blind alley, and, unless we are very careful, he will +have us cribb'd, cabin'd, and confined before we know where we are. + + +V + +It was my experience in the auction-room that saved me. When I had +read all these books which I should never have bought if I could have +helped it, I discovered the folly of buying books that interest you. +If a book appeals to me at first sight it is probably because I know a +good deal about the subject with which it deals. But, as against that, +see how many subjects there are of which I know nothing at all! And +just look at all these books that have no attraction for me! And tell +me this: Why do they not appeal to me? Only one answer is possible. +They do not appeal to me because I am so grossly, wofully, culpably +ignorant of the subjects whereof they treat. If, therefore, my +bookseller approaches me, with a nice new book under his arm, and +observes coaxingly that he knows I am interested in history, I always +ask him to be good enough to show me the latest work on psychology. If +he reminds me of my fondness for astronomy, I ask him for a handbook of +botany. If he refers to my predilection for agriculture, I inquire if +there is anything new in the way of poetry; and if he politely refers +to my weakness for the West Indies, I ask him to bring me something +dealing with Lapland. The bookseller must be circumvented, defeated, +and crushed at any cost. He is too clever at trapping us in his narrow +little cell. If a man wants to feel that the world is wide, and a good +place to live in, he must be for ever and for ever sampling infinity. +He must shun the books that he dearly wants to buy, and buy the books +he would do anything to shun. + + +VI + +Yes, I bought thirty-six books that day in the auction-room; six that I +wanted and thirty that I didn't. And some of those thirty volumes have +been the charmers of my solitude and the classics of my soul ever +since. I do not advise any man to rush off to the nearest auction mart +and repeat my experiment. We must not gamble with life. Infinity must +be sampled intelligently. But, if a man is to keep himself alive in a +world like this, infinity must be sampled. Like a dog on a country +road I must poke into as many holes as I can. If I am naturally fond +of music, I had better study mining. If I love painting, I shall be +wise to go in for gardening. If I glory in the seaside, I must make a +point of climbing mountains and scouring the bush. If I am attached to +the things just under my nose, I must be careful to read books dealing +with distant lands. If I am deeply interested in contemporary affairs, +I must at once read the records of the days of long ago and explore the +annals of the splendid past. I must be faithful to old friends, but I +must get to know new people and to know them well. If I hold to one +opinion, I must studiously cultivate the acquaintance of men who hold +the opposite view, and investigate the hidden recesses of their minds +with scientific and painstaking diligence. Above all must I be +constantly sampling infinity in matters of faith. If I find that the +Epistles are gaining a commanding influence upon my mind, I must at +once set out to explore the prophets. If I find some special phase of +truth powerfully attracting me, I must, without shunning it, pay +increasing attention to all other aspects. 'The Lord has yet more +truth to break from out His Word!' said John Robinson; and I must try +to find it. Mr. Goodman is a splendid fellow; but he fell in love with +one lonely little truth one day, and now he never thinks or reads or +preaches of any other. It would be his salvation, and the salvation of +his people, if he would set out to climb the peaks that have no +attraction for him. He would find, when he stood on their sunlit +summits, that they too are part of God's great world. He would have +the time of his life if he would only commence to sample infinity. His +people are accustomed to seeing him every now and again in a new suit +of clothes. If he begins to-day to sample infinity, they will next +week experience a fresh sensation. They will see the same suit of +clothes with a new man inside it. + + + + +II + +READY-MADE CLOTHES + +Carlyle, as everybody knows, once wrote a Philosophy of Clothes, and +called it _Sartor Resartus_. He did his work so thoroughly and so +exhaustively and so well that, from that day to this, nobody else has +cared to tackle the theme. It is high time, however, that it was +pointed out that with one important aspect of his tremendous subject he +does not attempt to deal. Surely there ought to have been a chapter on +Ready-made Clothes! + +I am surprised that Henry Drummond never drew attention to the glaring +omission, for, if Drummond hated one thing more than another, he +loathed and detested ready-made clothes. They were his pet aversion. +Ready-made clothes, he used to say, were things that were made to fit +everybody, and they fitted nobody. Men are not made by machinery and +in sizes; and it follows as a natural consequence that clothes that are +so made will not fit men. The man who is an exact duplicate of the +tailor's model has not yet been born. How Carlyle's omission escaped +the censure of Drummond I cannot imagine. It is true that Drummond was +not particularly attracted by Carlyle; he preferred Emerson. I am +certain that if Drummond had read _Sartor Resartus_ at all carefully he +would have exposed the discrepancy, and Carlyle is therefore to be +congratulated on a very narrow escape. + +Drummond's hatred of ready-made clothes is the essential thing about +him. I happened to be lecturing on Drummond the other evening, and I +felt it my duty to point out that Drummond would take his place in +history, not as a scientist nor as an evangelist, nor as a traveller, +nor as an author, but as the uncompromising and relentless assailant of +ready-made clothes. Unless you grasp this, you will never understand +him. He scorned all affectations and imitations. He would adopt no +style of dress simply because it was usual under certain conditions. +'He was,' as an eye-witness of his ordination remarks, 'the last man +whom you could place by the woman's canon of dress. And yet his dress +was a marvel of adaptation to the part he happened to be playing. On +his ordination day, when most men assume a garb severely clerical, he +was dressed like a country squire, thus proclaiming to fathers and +brethren, and to all the world, that he was not going to allow +ordination to play havoc with his chosen career. Now this was typical, +and it is its typical quality that is important. It applied not to +dress alone. It applied to speech. Drummond would affect no style of +address simply on the ground that it was usual upon certain platforms +or in certain rostrums. Did it fit him? Was it simple, natural, easy, +effective? If not, he would not use it. Nor would he adopt a course +of procedure simply because it was customary and was considered +correct. If, to him, it seemed like wearing ready-made clothes, he +would have none of it. Here you have the key to his whole life. +Everything had to fit him like a glove, or he would have nothing to do +with it. His scientific lectures, his evangelistic addresses, his +personal interviews with students, even his public prayers, were +modelled on no regulation standard, on no established precedent; they +were couched in the language, and expressed in the style, that most +perfectly suited his own charming and magnetic individuality. + +Professor James, of Harvard, said of Henri Bergson, the Parisian +philosopher, that his utterance fitted his thought like that elastic +silk underclothing which follows every movement of the skin. Drummond +would have considered that the ideal. Generally speaking, he was +impervious to criticism; but if you had told him that a single phrase +rang hollow, or that some expression had savoured of artificiality, or +that even a gesture appeared like affectation, you would have stabbed +him to the quick. It was a great question in his day as to whether he +was orthodox or heterodox. Drummond regarded all standards of +orthodoxy and of heterodoxy as so many tailors' models. Orthodoxy and +heterodoxy stand related to truth just as those wonderful wickerwork +stands and plaster busts that adorn every dressmaker's establishment +stand related to the grace and beauty of the female form. If you had +asked Drummond to what school of thought he belonged, he would have +told you that he never wore ready-made clothes. + +I tremble lest, one of these days, these notions of mine on the subject +of ready-made clothes should assume the proportions of a sermon, and +demand pulpit utterance. There will at any rate be no difficulty in +providing them with a text. The classical instance of the contemptuous +rejection of ready-made clothing was, of course, David's refusal to +wear Saul's armour. There is a world of significance in that old-world +story. Saul's armour is a very fine thing--_for Saul_! But if David +feels that he can do better work with a sling, then, in the name of all +that is reasonable, give him a sling! If he has to fight Goliath, why +hamper him with ready-made clothes? I began by saying that Carlyle +omitted to deal, in _Sartor Resartus_, with this profound branch of his +subject. But he saw the importance of it for all that. In his +_Frederick the Great_, he tells us how the young prince's iron-handed +father employed a learned university professor to teach the boy +theology. The doctor dosed his youthful pupil with creeds and +catechisms until his brain whirled with meaningless tags and phrases. +And in recording the story Carlyle bursts out upon the dry-as-dust +professor. 'In heaven's name,' he cries, 'teach the boy nothing at +all, or else teach him something that he will know, as long as he +lives, to be eternally and indisputably true!' + +Now what is this fine outburst of thunderous wrath but an emphatic +protest against the use of ready-made clothes? A man's faith should +fit him like the clothes for which he has been most carefully measured, +if not like the elastic silk to which the Harvard professor refers. A +man might as well try to wear his father's clothes as try to wear his +father's faith. It will never really fit him. There is a great +expression near the end of the brief Epistle of Jude that always seems +to me very striking. 'But ye, beloved,' says the writer, 'building up +yourselves on your most holy faith.' That is the only satisfactory way +of building--to build on your own site. If I build my house on another +man's piece of ground, it is sure to cause trouble sooner or later. +Build your own character on your own faith, says the apostle; and there +is sound sense in the injunction. It is better for me to build a very +modest little house of my own on a little bit of land that really +belongs to me than to build a palace on somebody else's soil. It is +better for me to build up my character, very unpretentiously, perhaps, +on my own faith, than to erect a much more imposing structure on +another man's creed. That is the philosophy of ready-made clothes, +disguised under a slight change of metaphor. + +I have heard that some people spend their time in church inspecting +other people's clothes. If that is so, they must be profoundly +impressed by the amazing proportion of misfits. The souls of thousands +are quite obviously clad in ready-made garments. Here is the spirit of +a bright young girl decked out in all the contents of her grandmother's +spiritual wardrobe. The clothes fitted the grandmother perfectly; the +old lady looked charming in them; but the grand-daughter looks +ridiculous. I was once at a testimony meeting. The thing that most +impressed me was the continual repetition of certain phrases. Speaker +after speaker rang the changes on the same stereotyped expressions. I +saw at once that I had fallen among a people who went in for ready-made +clothes. + +The thing takes even more objectionable forms. Those who are half as +fond as I am of Mark Rutherford will have already recalled Frank Palmer +in _Clara Hopgood_. 'He accepted willingly,' we are told, 'the +household conclusions on religion and politics, but they were not +properly his, for he accepted them merely as conclusions and without +the premisses, and it was often even a little annoying to hear him +express some free opinion on religious questions in a way which showed +that it was not a growth, but something picked up.' Everybody who has +read the story remembers the moral tragedy that followed. What else +could you expect? There is always trouble if a man builds his house on +another man's site. The souls of men were never meant to be attired in +ready-made clothes. Somebody has finely said that Truth must be born +again in the secret silence of each individual life. + +For the matter of that, the philosophy of ready-made clothes applies as +much to unbelief as to faith. Now and then one meets a mind distracted +by genuine doubt, and it is refreshing and stimulating to grapple with +its problems. One respects the doubter because the doubt fits him like +the elastic silk; it seems a part and parcel of his personality. But +at other times one can see at a glance that the doubter is all togged +out in ready-made clothes, and, like a bird in borrowed plumes, is +inordinately proud of them. Here are the same old questions, put in +the same old way, and with a certain effrontery that knows nothing of +inner anguish or even deep sincerity. One feels that his visitor has +seen this gaudy mental outfit cheaply displayed at the street corner, +and has snapped it up at once in order to impress you with the gorgeous +spectacle. How often, too, one is made to feel that the blatancy of +the infidel lecturer, or the flippancy of the sceptical debater, is +simply a matter of ready-made clothes. The awful grandeur of the +subjects of which they treat has evidently never appealed to them. +They are merely echoing quibbles that are as old as the hills; they are +wearing clothes that may have fitted Hobbes, Paine, or Voltaire, but +that certainly were not made to fit their more meagre stature. Doubt +is a very human and a very sacred thing, but the doubt that is merely +assumed is, of all affectations, the most repellent. + +If some suspicious reader thinks that I am overestimating the danger of +wearing ready-made clothes, I need only remind him that even such +gigantic humans as James Chalmers, of New Guinea, and Robert Louis +Stevenson feared that ready-made clothes might yet stand between the +Church and her conquest of the world. Some of the missionaries +insisted in clothing the natives of New Guinea in the garb of Old +England, but Chalmers protested, and protested vigorously. 'I am +opposed to it,' he exclaimed. 'My experience is that clothing natives +is nearly as bad as introducing spirits among them. Wherever clothing +has been introduced, the natives are disappearing before various +diseases, especially consumption, and I am fully convinced that the +same will happen in New Guinea. Our civilization, whatever it is, is +unfitted for them in their present state, and no attempt should be made +to force it upon them.' + +With this, Robert Louis Stevenson most cordially concurred. Nobody who +knows him will suspect Stevenson of any lack of gallantry, but he +always eyed the arrival of the missionary's wife with a certain amount +of apprehension. 'The married missionary,' says Stevenson, 'may offer +to the native what he is much in want of--a higher picture of domestic +life; but the woman at the missionary's elbow tends to keep him in +touch with Europe, and out of touch with Polynesia, and threatens to +perpetuate, and even to ingrain, parochial decencies far best +forgotten. The mind of the lady missionary tends to be continually +busied about dress. She can be taught with extreme difficulty to think +any costume decent but that to which she grew accustomed on Clapham +Common; and to gratify her prejudice, the native is put to useless +expense, his mind is tainted with the morbidities of Europe, and his +health is set in danger.' We remember the pride with which poor John +Williams, the martyr missionary of Erromanga, viewed the introduction +of bonnets among the women of Raratonga; but it was not the greatest of +his triumphs after all. The bonnets have vanished long ago, but the +fragrant influence of John Williams abides perpetually. We sometimes +forget that our immaculate tweed trousers and our dainty skirts and +blouses are no essential part of the Christian gospel. As a matter of +fact, that gospel was first revealed to a people who knew nothing of +such trappings. We do not necessarily hasten the millennium by +introducing among untutored races a carnival of ready-made clothes. + +And it is just as certain that you do not bring the soul nearer to its +highest goal by forcing on it a fashion for which it is totally +unsuited. And here I come back to Drummond. During his last illness +at Tunbridge Wells, he remarked that, at the age of twelve, he made a +conscientious study of Bonar's _God's Way of Peace_. 'I fear,' he +said, 'that the book did me more harm than good. I tried to force my +inner experience into the mould represented by that book, and it was +impossible.' In one of Moody's after-meetings in London, Drummond was +dealing with a young girl who was earnestly seeking the Saviour. At +last he startled her by exclaiming, 'You must give up reading James's +_Anxious Enquirer_.' She wondered how he had guessed that she had been +reading it; but he had detected from her conversation that she was +making his own earlier mistake. She was trying to think as John Angell +James thought, to weep as he wept, and to find her way to faith +precisely as he found his. Drummond told her to read nothing but the +New Testament, and, he said later on, 'A fortnight of that put her +right!' + +There lies the whole secret. Our souls no more resemble each other +than our bodies; they are not made in a mould and turned out by the +million. No two are exactly alike. Ready-made clothes will never +exactly fit. Bonar and James, Bunyan and Law, Doddridge and Wesley, +Mueller and Spurgeon, may help me amazingly. They may help me by +showing me how they--each for himself--found their way into the +presence of the Eternal and, like Christian at the Palace Beautiful, +were robed and armed for pilgrimage. But if they lead me to suppose +that I must experience their sensations, enjoy their elations, pass +through their depressions, struggle and laugh and weep and sing just as +they did, they have done me serious damage. They have led me away from +those secret chambers in which the King adorns the soul in beautiful +and comely garments, and they have left me a mere wearer of ready-made +clothes. + + + + +III + +THE HIDDEN GOLD + +I was enjoying the very modest but very satisfying pleasures of a ride +in a tramcar when the following adventure befell me. It was a bright, +sunny winter's day; the scenery on either hand was extremely +delightful; and I was cogitating upon the circumstance that so much +felicity could be obtained in return for so small an expenditure. But +my admiration of mountain and river and bush was suddenly and rudely +interrupted. A lady fellow passenger reported that, since entering the +car, three sovereigns had been extracted from her purse. That she had +them when she stepped into the car she knew for certain, for she +remembered seeing them when she opened the purse to pay her fare. She +had taken out the two pennies, inserted the ticket in their place, and +returned the purse to her handbag, which had been lying on the seat +beside her. The inspector had now boarded the car; she had opened her +purse to take out the ticket, and, lo, the gold had gone! It was a +most embarrassing situation. I was ruefully speculating as to how I +should again face my congregation after being shadowed by such a dark +suspicion. When, as abruptly as it had arisen, the mystery happily +cleared. With the most profuse apologies, the lady explained that it +was her birthday; her daughter had that morning presented her with a +new purse; the compartments of this receptacle were more elaborate and +ingenious than she had noticed; and she had found the sovereigns +reposing in a division of the purse which had eluded her previous +observation. There was no more to be said. We wished the poor +beflustered soul many happy returns of the day; she left the car at the +next corner; and I once more abandoned myself to the charms of the +landscape. + +Now, this sort of thing is very common. We are continually fancying +that we have been robbed of the precious things we still possess. The +old lady who searches everywhere for the spectacles that adorn her +temples; the clerk who ransacks the office for the pen behind his ear; +and the boy who charges his brother with the theft of the pen-knife +that lurks in the mysterious depths of his own fearful and wonderful +pocket--these are each of them typical of much. + +I happened the other evening to saunter into a room in which a certain +debating society was holding its weekly meeting. The paper out of +which the discussion arose had been read before my arrival. But I +gathered from the remarks of the speakers that it had dealt with a +scientific subject, and that questions of antiquity, geology, and +evolution were involved. After the fashion of debating societies, the +entire universe was promptly subjected to a complete overhaul. If the +truth must be told, I am afraid that I must confess to having forgotten +the eloquent contentions of the different speakers; but out of the +hurly-burly of that wordy conflict one utterance comes back to me. It +appealed to me at the time as being very curious, very pathetic, and +very striking. It made upon my mind an indelible impression. A tall +young fellow rose, and, in the shortest speech of the debate, imparted +to the discussion the only touch of real feeling by which it was +illumined. I do not know what it was that had struck so deep a chord +in his soul and set it all vibrating. It is wonderful how some stray +sound or sight or scent will sometimes summon to the mind a rush of +sacred memories. After a preliminary platitude or two, this speaker +suddenly referred to the connexion between science and faith. His eyes +flashed with manifest feeling; his whole being took on the tone of a +man in deadly earnest; his voice quivered with emotion. In one vivid +sentence he graphically described his aged grandfather as the old man +donned his spectacles and devoutly read--his faith unclouded by any +shadow of doubt--his morning chapter from the well-worn, large-type +Bible. And then, with a ring of such genuine passion that it sounded +to me like the cry of a creature in pain, he exclaimed, 'And, +gentlemen, I would give both my hands, and give them cheerfully, if I +could believe as my old grandfather believed!' He immediately sat +down. One or two members coughed. I could see from the faces of the +others that they all felt that the debate was getting out of bounds. +The world was wide, and the solar system fairly extensive; but this +speaker had wandered beyond the remotest frontiers of the universe. +And yet to me the utterance to which they had just listened was the +speech of the evening, the one speech to be remembered: '_Gentlemen, I +would give both my hands, and give them cheerfully, if I could believe +as my grandfather believed!_' + +Now this was very pathetic, this pair of eager eyes suddenly turned +inward; this discovery of an empty soul; this comparison with his +grandfather's golden hoard; and this pitiful confession of abject +poverty. I felt sorry for him, just as I felt sorry for the lady in +the tramcar. The lady in the tramcar looked into a purse that she +thought to be empty, and suffered all the agony of a great loss. The +young fellow in the debating society looked into the recesses of his +own spirit, and cried out that there was nothing there. And it was all +a mistake--in both cases. The sovereigns were in the purse after all. +And faith was in the apparently empty soul after all. But neither of +the victims knew that they possessed what they lamented. They were +both exactly like the old lady with the spectacles on her temples, like +the clerk with his pen behind his ear, like the boy with the penknife +in his pocket. In the case of the lady in the car the similitude is +clear enough. I aspire to show that the analogy applies just as surely +to the young fellow and his faith. And to that end let me raise a +cloud of questions as a dog might start a covey of birds. + +Why does this young man sigh for his grandfather's faith? Was his +grandfather's a true faith or a false faith? If his grandfather's +faith was a false faith, why does he himself so passionately covet it? +Does not the very fact that he so earnestly desires his grandfather's +faith as his own faith prove that he is certain that his grandfather's +faith was true? And if, in the very soul of him, he feels that his +grandfather's faith was true, does it not follow that he has already +set his seal to the faith of his grandfather? Is he not proving most +conclusively by his flashing eyes, his fervent manner, and his +quivering voice that he believes most firmly in his grandfather's +faith? And, if that is so, is it not a case of the lady in the tramcar +over again? Is he not crying out that his soul is empty, whilst, in a +secret and unexplored recess of that same soul, there reposes the very +faith for which he cries? + +When I was a very small boy I believed in the Man in the Moon; I +believed in Santa Claus; I believed in old Mother Hubbard; I believed +in the Fairy Godmother; I believed in ghosts and brownies and witches +and trolls. It was a wonderful creed, that creed of my infancy. It +has gone now, and it has gone unwept and unsung. I never catch myself +saying that I would give my two hands, and give them cheerfully, if I +could believe in those things all over again. That puerile faith was a +false faith; and because I now know it to have been fictitious I smile +at it to-day, and never dream of wishing that I still believed in the +Man in the Moon. And, when, on the contrary, I catch a man saying with +wet eyes that he would give both his hands, and give them cheerfully, +if he could believe as his grandfather did, I see before me indubitable +evidence of the fact that, all unconsciously, grandsire and grandson +have both subscribed with fervour to the selfsame stately faith. + +But, to save us from the sin of prosiness, let us indulge in a little +romance. Harry and Edith are lovers; but last evening, in the course +of a stroll by the side of the sea, a dark cloud swept over the golden +tranquillity of their enchantment. They parted at length--not as they +usually do. When poor ruffled little Edith reached her dainty room, +she flung herself in a tempest of tears upon the snowy counterpane, and +sobbed again and again and again, 'I would give anything if I could +love him as I loved him yesterday!' And all the while Harry, with +white and tearless face, and his soul in a tumult of agitation, is +lying back in his chair before the fire, his hands in his pockets, +saying to himself over and over again, 'I would give anything if I +could love her as I loved her yesterday!' Now here are a pair of +fascinating specimens for psychological analysis! Why is Edith so +anxious to love Harry as she loved him yesterday? Why is Harry so +eager to love Edith as he loved her yesterday? You do not passionately +desire to love a person whom you do not love. The secret is out! +Edith sobs to herself, 'I would give anything to love Harry as I loved +him yesterday!' because, being the silly little goose that she is, she +does not recognize that she does love Harry as she loved him yesterday. +And Harry, logical in everything but in love, does not see, as he sits +there muttering, that his very anxiety to love Edith just as he loved +her yesterday is the best proof that he could possibly have that his +love for Edith has undergone no change. Each is peering into a purse +that appears to be empty; each is crying for the gold that seems to +have gone; and each is ignorant of the fact that their wealth is still +with them, but is for a moment eluding their agitated scrutiny. + +The philosophy that the new purse revealed to me is capable of an +infinity of applications. The fact is that faith is always the unknown +dimension. A man may know how many children he has, and how much money +he has; but no man knows how much faith he has. Everybody who has read +Carlyle's _History of Frederick the Great_ remembers the petty +squabbles of Voltaire, Maupertius, and the other thinkers who moved +about the person of that famous prince. They seemed to have been for +ever twitting each other with getting ill, and, notwithstanding their +philosophy, sending for a priest to minister beside their supposed +deathbeds. I have heard sceptics and infidels charged with hypocrisy +on the ground that, in the face of sudden terror, they had been known +to call upon that God whose very existence they denied. I am bound to +say that I do not think the evidence sufficient to substantiate the +charge. There was no hypocrisy, but the sudden discovery of +unsuspected faith. In the tumult of emotion induced by sudden fear, a +secret compartment of the soul was opened, and the faith that was +regarded as lost was found to be tranquilly reposing there. + +Perhaps it was just as well that the lady in the tramcar had this +embarrassing experience. It was good for her to have felt the anguish +of imaginary loss, for it led her to discover that her purse was a more +complicated thing than she had supposed. It will do my friend of the +debating society a world of good to make the same discovery. The soul +is not so simple as it seems. You cannot press a spring at a given +moment, and take in all its contents at one glance. And it was +certainly good for my lady fellow traveller to find that the gold was +still there. She needed it, or its loss would not have thrown her into +such a fever. That is the thing that strikes me about my friend the +debater. He evidently needed the faith for which he cried so +passionately. Faith, like gold, is for use and not for ornament. Yes, +he needed the faith that he could not find; needed it, perhaps, more +sorely than he knew. And now that I have proved to him that, in some +secret recess, the treasure still lurks, I am hopeful that, like the +lady in the car, he will smile at his former anguish, and live like a +lord on the wealth that he has found. + + + + +IV + +'SUCH A LOVELY BITE!' + +It is a keen, clear, frosty winter's night, and I am sitting here in a +cheerfully lighted dining-room only a few feet from a roaring fire. An +immense chasm sometimes yawns between afternoon and evening, and it +seems scarcely credible that, only an hour or two ago, I was out on the +river in an open boat, fishing. It was a glorious sunny afternoon when +we pushed off; the great hills around were at their greenest; and the +only reminder vouchsafed to us that to-morrow is midwinter's day was +the glitter of snow away on the top of the mountain. The water around +us, reflecting the cloudless sky above, was a sea of sapphire, out of +which our oars seemed to beat up pearls and silver. Arrived at our +favourite fishing grounds, we lay quietly at anchor, and for a while +the sport was excellent. But, later on, things quietened down. The +fish forsook us, or became too dainty for our blandishments. The sun +went down over the massive ridges. A hint of evening brooded over us. +The blue died out of the water, and the greenness vanished from the +hills. Everything was grey and cold. As though to match the gloom +around us, we ourselves grew silent. Conversation languished, and +laughter was dead. We turned up the collars of our coats, and grimly +bent over our lines. But the cod and the perch were proof against all +our cajolery, and would not be enticed. At length my hands grew so +cold and numb that I could scarcely feel the line. My enthusiasm sank +with the temperature, and I suggested, not without trepidation, that we +should give it up. My companions assented to the abstract proposition; +but, with that wistful half-expectancy so characteristic of anglers, +did not at once commence to wind up their lines. I was, therefore, +just on the point of setting them an example when one of them exclaimed +excitedly, 'Wait a second; I had _such a lovely bite_!' That was all; +but it gave us a fresh lease of life. For half an hour we forgot the +hardening cold and the deepening gloom, and chatted again as merrily as +when we baited our hooks for the first time. It was a bite; that was +all. But, oh, the thrill of a bite when patience is flagging and +endurance ebbing out! + +It is because of a certain cynical tendency to deride the value of a +bite that I have decided to spend the evening with my pen. 'A bite!' +says somebody, with a fine guffaw. 'And what on earth is the good of a +bite, I should like to know? A bite is neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor +good red herring! A bite is of no use for breakfast, dinner, tea, or +supper! Bites can neither be fried nor boiled, measured nor weighed. +A bite, indeed!'--and once more the cynic loses himself in laughter. +That is all he knows about it, and it merely supplies us with another +evidence of the superficiality of cynicism. The critic is sometimes +right, but the cynic is never right; and the roar of laughter that I +hear from the cynic's chair, as he talks about bites, is, therefore, +rightly translated and interpreted, a kind of thunderous applause. +Why, in some respects, a bite is better than a fish. Only very +occasionally does a fish look as well on the bank or in the boat as it +appeared to the excited imagination of the angler when he first felt +the flutter on the line. I have caught thousands of fish in my time; +but most of them I have dismissed from memory as soon as they went +flapping into the basket. But some of the bites that I have had! I +catch myself wondering now what beauteous monsters they can have been. + +'Well, and how many did you catch?' I am regularly asked on my return. + +'Oh, a couple of dozen or so; but, oh, I had such a bite! . . .' + +And so on. It is the bite that lingers fondly in the memory, that +haunts the fancy for days afterwards, and that rushes back upon the +angler in his dreams. + +'Oh, I've lost him!' one of my companions called out from the other end +of the boat this afternoon. 'He got off the line just after I started +to draw him in; such a lovely bite; I'm sure it was the biggest fish +we've had round here this afternoon!' + +Of course it was! The bite is always the biggest fish. There is +something very charming--something of which the cynic knows nothing at +all--about this propensity of ours to attribute superlative qualities +to the unrealized. It is a species of philosophic chivalry. It is a +courtesy that we extend to the unknown. We do not know whether the +joys that never visited us were really great or small, so we gallantly +allow them the benefit of the doubt. The geese that came waddling over +the hill are geese, all of them, and as geese we write them down; but +the geese that never came over the hill are swans every one, and no +swans that we have fed beside the lake glided hither and thither half +as gracefully. + +A young girl comes to my study. She is tall and comely, and her face +reveals a quiet beauty. But she is dressed in black, and the marks of +a great sorrow are stamped upon her pale, drawn countenance. My heart +goes out to her as she tells her story. It was so entirely unexpected, +so totally unthought of, this sudden loss of her lover. Just as she +was dreaming of orange-blossoms for her own hair, her fingers were +employed upon a wreath of lilies for his bier. As she sat in the +church on that dark and dreadful day, the organ that she fancied +greeting her with a wedding march set all the aisles shuddering to a +dirge. And her unfinished bridal array had all been laid aside that +she might garb her graceful form in gloom. As I looked into her sad +eyes, swollen with weeping, I fancied that I could see into her very +soul, and scan the secret pictures she had painted there. The happy +wedding, with all its nonsense and solemnity, its laughter and its +tears; the pretty little home, with his chair of honour, like a throne, +facing hers; his homecoming evening by evening, and the welcome she +would give him; the children, too--the sons so handsome and the girls +so fair! What art gallery contains paintings so perfect? I saw them +all--these lovely visions hung with crape! And as I saw them, I +reverenced our sweet human habit of attributing impossible glories to +the unrealized. + +And what about the parents of the baby I buried yesterday? Are there +no pictures in these stricken souls worth viewing? As you pass through +these chambers of imagery, and view one of these exquisitely painted +pictures after another, you have the whole splendid career mapped out +before you. Such triumphs, such honours, such laurels for his brow! +The glory of the life that would have been is spread out before their +fancy, sketched in the fairest colours! Thus tenderly do we set a halo +on the forehead of the unrealized! Thus charitably do we let the fancy +play about the fish we never caught! Let the cynic hush his +sacrilegious laughter! There is something about all this that is very +human, and very beautiful. + +And just because it is so beautiful, it is worth analysing, this thrill +of joy that I feel when the fish tugs at my line. I shall try to take +the sensation to pieces, in order that I may find out exactly of what +it consists. I suppose that, really, the secret is: I am pleased to +feel that my bait has some attraction for the fish that I now know to +be there. It is horrid to keep on fishing whilst your mind is haunted +by the suspicion that your hooks are bare, or that they are baited in +such a way that they make no appeal to the fish that may be swarming +around you. The sudden bite settles all that, and you feel every +faculty start up to vigorous life once more. + +Now, as a matter of fact, there are few things more pathetic than the +feeling that sometimes steals over the best of men, that there is +nothing in them to attract the affection, the friendship, and the +confidence of others. The classical instance is the case of Mark +Rutherford. How his lonely soul ached for comradeship! 'I wanted a +friend,' he says. 'How the dream haunted me! It made me restless and +anxious at the sight of every new face, wondering whether at last I had +found that for which I searched as if for the kingdom of heaven. God +knows that I would have stood against a wall and have been shot for any +man whom I loved as cheerfully as I would have gone to bed, but nobody +seemed to wish for such a love or to know what to do with it!' Here is +the poor fisherman, who feels that he has no bait that the fish want. +It was not as though he caught the perch whilst the cod fought shy of +him. 'I was avoided,' he says elsewhere, 'both by the commonplace and +by those who had talent. Commonplace persons avoided me because I did +not chatter, and persons of talent because I stood for nothing--_there +was nothing in me_!' But, just as he was giving up, Mark Rutherford +felt the line tremble, and knew the ecstasy of a bite! He was suddenly +befriended. 'Oh, the transport of it!' he exclaims. 'It was as if +water had been poured on a burnt hand, or some miraculous Messiah had +soothed the delirium of a fever-stricken sufferer, and replaced his +visions of torment with dreams of Paradise.' The world holds more of +this sort of thing than we think. A writer who cannot get readers, a +preacher who cannot get hearers, a tradesman who cannot get +customers--it is the same old trouble. Fishing, fishing, fishing, +until the whole head is sick and the whole heart faint. Fishing, +fishing, fishing, until the whole world seems to be pouring its +contempt upon the unhappy fisherman. Fishing, fishing, fishing, until +a man feels that there is nothing in him, nothing in him, _nothing in +him_; and the contempt of his fellows leads to the anguish and hollow +laughter of self-derision. Oh, what a bite means at such an hour! +'Blessed are they,' exclaims poor Mark Rutherford, 'who heal us of our +self-despisings! Of all services which can be done to man, I know of +none more precious.' + +But even a bite may do a man a great deal of harm unless he thinks it +out very carefully. It is certainly very annoying, after waiting so +long, to feel that the fish has come--and gone again! A fisherman must +guard against being soured and embittered just at that point. It was +the tragedy of Miss Havisham. Everybody who has read _Great +Expectations_ remembers Miss Havisham. In some respects she is +Dickens' most striking and dramatic character. Poor Miss Havisham had +been disappointed on her wedding-day; and, in revenge, she remained for +the rest of her life dressed just as she was dressed when the blow +staggered her. When Pip came upon her, years afterwards, she was still +wearing her faded wedding-dress. She still had the withered flowers in +her hair, although her hair was whiter than the dress itself. For the +dress was yellow with age, and everything she wore had long since lost +its lustre. 'I saw, too,' says Pip, 'that the bride within the +bridal-dress had withered like the dress, and like the flowers, and had +no brightness left but the brightness of her sunken eyes. I saw that +the dress had been put upon the rounded figure of a young woman, and +that the figure, upon which it now hung loose, had shrunk to skin and +bone. Once I had been taken to see some ghastly waxwork at the Fair, +representing I know not what impossible personage lying in state. Once +I had been taken to one of our old marsh churches to see a skeleton in +the ashes of a rich dress that had been dug out of a vault under the +church pavement. Now, waxwork and skeleton seemed to have dark eyes +that moved and looked at me.' Poor Pip! And poor Miss Havisham! Miss +Havisham had lost her fish just as she was in the very act of landing +him. And she had let it sour and spoil her, and Pip was frightened at +the havoc it had wrought. + +The peril touches life at every point. It especially affects those of +us who are called to be fishers of men. It is a great art, this human +angling, and needs infinite tact, and infinite subtilty, and infinite +patience. And, above all, it needs a resolute determination never on +any account whatever to be soured by disappointment. When I am tempted +to wind up my line, and give the whole thing up in despair, I revive my +flagging enthusiasm by recalling the rapture of my earlier catches. +What angler ever forgets the wild transport of landing his first +salmon? What minister ever forgets the spot on which he knelt with his +first convert? In the long and tedious hours when the waiting is +weary, and the nibblings vexatious, and the bites disappointing, let +him live on these wealthy memories as the bees live in the winter on +the honey that they gathered in the summer-time. Yes, let him think +about those unforgettable triumphs, and let him talk about them. They +make great talking. And as he recalls and recites the thrilling story, +the leaden moments will simply fly, the old glow will steal back into +his fainting soul, and, long before he has finished his tale, he will +find his fingers busy with another glorious prize. + + + + +V + +LANDLORD AND TENANT + +I heard a capital story the other evening under the most astonishing +circumstances. It was at a public meeting connected with a religious +conference. A certain minister rose to address us. We knew from past +experience that we should have a most suggestive and stimulating +address. But, somehow, it did not occur to us that we should be +favoured with a story. And when this grave and sedate member of our +assembly suddenly launched out into the intricacies of his tale, it was +as great a surprise as though the haildrops turned out to be diamonds, +or Vesuvius had begun to pour forth gold. Before we knew what had +happened, we were electrified by the story of a man who dwelt in a very +comfortable house, with a large, light, airy cellar. The river ran +near by. One day the river overflowed, the cellar was flooded, and all +the hens that he kept in it were drowned. The next day he bounced off +to see the landlord. + +'I have come,' he said, 'to give you notice. I wish to leave the +house.' + +'How is that?' asked the astonished landlord. 'I thought you liked it +so much. It is a very comfortable, well-built house, and cheap.' + +'Oh, yes,' the tenant replied, 'but the river has overflowed into my +cellar, and all my hens are drowned.' + +'Oh, don't let that make you give up the house,' the landlord reasoned; +'try ducks!' + +I entirely forget--I most fervently hope that my friend will never see +this lamentable confession of mine!--I entirely forget what he made of +this delightful story. But, looking back on it now, I can see quite +clearly that half the philosophy of life is wrapped up in its delicious +folds. It raises the question at the very outset as to how far I am +under any obligation to endure the slings and arrows of outrageous +fortune. The river has flooded my cellar and drowned all my hens. +Very well. Now two courses are open to me. Shall I grin and bear it? +or shall I make a change? I must remember that it is very nice living +on the banks of the river. There is the boat-house at the foot of the +garden. What delightful hours we have spent gliding up and down the +bends and reaches of the tranquil stream, watching the reflections in +the water, and picnicking under the willows on its grassy banks! How +the children love to come down here and feed the swans as the graceful +creatures glide proudly hither and thither, seeming to be conscious +that their beauty richly deserves all the homage that is paid to it! +The fishing, too! The whirr of the line, and the bend of the rod, and +the splash of the trout; why, there was more concentrated excitement in +some of those tremendous moments than in all the politics and battles +since the world began! And the bathing! On those hot summer days when +the very air seemed to scorch the skin, how exquisite those swirling +waters seemed! Am I to give up all this enjoyment because, once in +five years perhaps, the swollen stream floods my cellar and drowns my +hens? That is the question, and it is a live question too. + +Now the trouble is a little deeper than appears on the surface. For if +I persuade myself that it is my duty to bounce off down to the owner of +the house and give him notice to quit, I shall soon find myself +spending a considerable proportion of my time in waiting upon my +landlords. In the next house to which I go I shall not only miss the +boating and fishing and bathing, but I shall within six months discover +other disadvantages quite as grave as the occasional flooding of my +riverside cellar. And then I shall have to move again. And moving +will become a habit with me. And, on the whole, it is a bad habit. It +may be good for the hens; but there are other things to be considered +besides hens. The solar system is not kept in operation solely for the +benefit of the hens in the cellar. There are the children, and, with +all respect for the fowl-yard, children are as much worthy of +consideration as chickens. It is not good for children to be +everlastingly moving. It is good for them to have sacred and beautiful +memories of the home of their childhood. It is good for them to feed +the swans, and play under the willows, year in and year out, and to +retain the swans and the willows as part of the background with which +memory will always paint the picture of their infancy. It is good for +children to feel a certain fixity and stability about home and school +and friends. + +George Gissing pathetically tells how the spirit of dereliction stole +into the life of Godwin Peak. It was all owing to the family +gipsyings. 'As a result of the family's removal first from London to +the farm, and then into Twybridge, Godwin had no friends of old +standing. A boy reaps advantage from the half-parental kindness of men +and women who have watched his growth from infancy; in general it +affects him as a steadying influence, keeping before his mind the +social bonds to which his behaviour owes allegiance. Godwin had no +ties which bound him strongly to any district.' He was like a ship +that belongs to no port in particular, and that drifts hither and +thither about the world as fugitive commissions may arise. + +The finest of all the fine arts is the art of putting up with nasty +things. It is not very nice to have all your hens drowned. You get +fond of hens. And apart from the financial loss involved, there is a +sense of bereavement in seeing all your choice Dorkings, your favourite +Leghorns, your lovely Orpingtons, or your beautiful Silver Wyandottes +all lying dead and bedraggled in the muddy cellar. Few things are more +disconcerting. And yet I am writing this article for no other purpose +than to assert that the best thing to do, if you must have hens, is to +bury these as quickly as possible and send down to the market for a +fresh supply. It is certainly gratifying to one's pride as a tenant to +feel that one has a grievance and can now show his glorious +independence of the landlord. There is always a pleasurable piquancy +in being able to resign, or dismiss somebody, or give notice. But my +interest is every bit as well worth considering as my dignity. And +whilst my dignity clamours to get even with the landlord, my interest +reminds me of the swans and the willows, the boating and the fishing. +My dignity shouts angrily about my dead fens; but my interest whispers +significantly about my living children. So that, all things +considered, it is better to bury the hens and the hatchet at the same +time. I may quit my riverside residence and have a waterproof fowl-run +in another street; but when I see somebody else taking his children out +in my old boat, I shall only bite my lip and wish that I had quietly +restocked my chicken-run. It may be a most iniquitous proceeding on +the part of the landlord to allow the river to flood my cellar but, +thinking it over calmly, I am convinced that it is my duty as a +Christian to forgive him. And it always pays a man to do his duty. + +I had thought of devoting a paragraph to ministers and deacons. But +perhaps I had better not. These matters are very intricate and very +delicate, and need a tenderer touch than mine. Things will sometimes +go wrong. The river will rise. The cellar gets flooded, and the hens +get drowned. But, really, I am certain that, nine times out of ten, +perhaps ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it is better to bury the +poor birds quietly and say no more about it. I don't know quite how to +apply this parable. I was afraid I should get out of my depth if I +ventured into such matters. But suppose that the minister finds some +morning that his cellar is flooded and his pet birds drowned. Of +course, it is pleasant to send in your resignation and say that you +will not stand it. And yet, and yet--rivers will rise; it is a way +that rivers have; and the Church Secretary, when he receives the +resignation, feels as helpless as the landlord. And has the minister +any guarantee that the next river on the banks of which he builds his +nest will never rise? And, even if he is certain of perfection in the +fields to which he flies, is he quite justified in avenging his dead +hens by imperilling his living children and his living church? + +Or perhaps I have misinterpreted the story. I am really very nervous +about it, and feel that I have plunged into things too high for me. +Perhaps the minister is the landlord. It is through his wickedness +that the river has risen and drowned some of the Church's best hens, or +at least ruffled the fine feathers of some of the Church's best birds. +It is the easiest thing in the world to give him notice to quit. And +it accords magnificently with the dignity of the situation. But are we +quite sure that the poor minister made the river rise? That is the +question the tenant ought to consider. Was it the landlord's fault? I +repeat that rivers will rise at times, generally at storm times. The +Nile and the Tigris used to rise in prehistoric times. It is a way +rivers have. I really think that it will be as well to say no more +about it. Try to smooth down the ruffled feathers and forget. It may +not have been his fault; and, anyhow, we shall be saying good-bye to a +good many delightful experiences if we part company. + +And, really, when you think it over quietly, there seems to be a great +deal in the landlord's suggestion: 'Try ducks!' Of course, ducks are +the very thing for a riverside dwelling. Every change, however small, +should be dictated by reason and not by caprice. This was the +essential difference between the stupid tenant and the wise landlord. +The tenant said, 'I will make a _fundamental_ change, and I will make +it _capriciously_--I will leave the house!' The landlord said, 'Why +not make an _incidental_ change, and make it _reasonably_? Try ducks!' +I have in my time seen great numbers of people, among all kinds and +conditions of men, throw up their riverside dwellings in high dudgeon +because their hens were drowned in the cellar. But among my saddest +letters I find some from those who tell me how they miss the swans and +the boat-house, the trout and the willows, and how sincerely they wish +now that they had tried ducks. But it is too late; the flashing stream +is the paradise of other tenants; and the children's most romantic +memory of childhood twines itself about the fun of getting the piano +and the dining-room table in and out of the different doors. We may +easily form a stupid habit of giving the landlord notice whenever the +river happens to rise; and we forget that it is from just such +movements--such goings and such stayings--that life as a whole takes +its tint and colour. Destiny is made of trifles. Our weal and our woe +are determined by comparatively insignificant issues. Somebody has +finely said that we make our decisions, and then our decisions turn +round and make us. + +Now let nobody suppose that I am deprecating a change. On the +contrary, I am advocating a change. It will never do to let the fowls +drown, and to take no steps to prevent a recurrence of any such +disaster. I hold no brief for stagnation. I am merely insisting that +the change must commend itself to heart and conscience and reason. It +must be a forward move. Look at this, for example. It is from +Stanley's _Life of Arnold_: 'We are all in the midst of confusion,' +Arnold writes from Laleham, 'the books all packed and half the +furniture; and on Tuesday, if God will, we shall leave this dear place, +this nine-years' home of such exceeding happiness. But it boots not to +look backwards. Forward, forward, _forward_, should be one's motto.' +And thus Arnold moved to Rugby, and made history! There are times when +the landlord's gate is the high-road to glory. + +The whole matter is capable of the widest application, and must be +scientifically treated. Man is always finding his fowls drowned in the +cellar and going the wrong way to put things right. Generally +speaking, it must be confessed that he is too fond of rushing off to +the landlord. In his _Travels in Russia_, Theophile Gautier has a +striking word concerning this perilous proclivity. 'Whatever is of +real use to man,' he says, 'was invented from the beginning of the +world, and all the people who have come along since have worn their +brains out to find something new, but have made no improvements. +_Change is far from being progress_; it is not yet proved that steamers +are better than sailing-vessels, or railways than horse traffic. For +my part, I believe that men will end in returning to the old methods, +which are always the best.' I do not agree with the first part of +Gautier's statement. It is not likely. But when he says that we are +getting back to our starting-point, his contention is indisputable. In +the beginning, man was alone with his earth; and all that he did, he +did in the sweat of his brow. Then came the craze for machinery, and +the world became a network of wires and a wilderness of whirling +wheels. But we are beginning to recognize that it has been a +ridiculous mistake. The thing is too clumsy and too complicated. Mr. +Marconi has already taught us to feel half ashamed of the wires. And +Mr. H. G. Wells predicts that in forty years' time all the activities +of a larger and busier world will be driven by invisible currents of +power, and the whole of our industrial machinery will have gone to the +scrap-heap. Man will find himself once more alone with his world, but +it will be a world that has taken him into its confidence and revealed +to him its wonderful secrets. He will look back with a smile on the +age of screaming syrens and snorting engines, of racing pistons and +whirling wheels. He will be amazed at his own earlier readiness to +resort to such a cumbrous and complicated system when a smaller +transition would have ushered him into his kingdom. + +The whole drift of our modern scientific development is away from our +clinking mechanical complexities and back towards the great primal +simplicities. We have been too fond of the drastic and dramatic +course, too fond of bouncing off to the landlord. We are too apt to +involve ourselves in a big move when we might have gained our point by +simply trying ducks. We love the things that are burdensome, the ways +that are involved, the paths that lead to headache and heartache. It +is a very ancient and very human tendency. Paul wrote the Epistle to +the Galatians to reprove in them the same sad blunder. 'O foolish +Galatians, who hath bewitched you?' They had abandoned the +simplicities under the lure of the complexities. The Church that was +urged by her Lord to return to her first love had made the same +mistake. We are too prone to scorn the simple and the obvious. We +forsake the fountain of living water, and hew out to ourselves clumsy +cisterns. We neglect the majestic simplicities of the gospel, and +involve our tired brains and hungry hearts in tortuous systems that +lead us a long, long way from home. The landlord is right. The +simplest course is almost always the safest. + + + + +VI + +THE CORNER CUPBOARD + +Is there a case on record of a really unsuccessful search? I doubt it. +I believe it to be positively and literally true that he that seeketh, +findeth. I do not mean that a man will always find what he seeks. I +do not know that the promise implies that. I fancy it covers a far +wider range, and embraces a much ampler truth. Yes, I doubt if any man +ever yet sought without finding. When I was a boy I lost my peg-top. +It was a somewhat expensive one, owing partly to the fact that it would +really spin. I noticed this peculiarity about it whilst it was still +the property of its previous possessor. I had several tops; indeed, my +pockets bulged out with my ample store, but none of them would spin. +After pointing out to the owner of the coveted top the frightful +unsightliness of his treasure, and in other ways seeking to lower the +price likely to be demanded as soon as negotiations opened, I at length +secured the top in return for six marbles, a redoubtable horse +chestnut, and a knife with a broken blade. My subsequent alarm, on +missing so costly a possession, can be readily imagined. I could not +be expected to endure so serious a deprivation without making a +desperate effort to retrieve my fallen fortunes. I therefore +proclaimed to all and sundry my inflexible determination to ransack the +house from the top brick of the chimney to the darkest recesses of the +cellar in quest of my vanished treasure. I began with a queer old +triangular cupboard that occupied one corner of the kitchen. And in +the deepest and dustiest corner of the top shelf of that cavernous old +cupboard, what should I find but the cricket ball that I had lost the +previous summer? My excitement was so great that I almost fell off the +table on which I was standing. As soon as the flicker of my candle +fell on the ball I distinctly remembered putting it there. I argued +that it was the only place in the house that I could reach, and that my +brother couldn't, and consequently the only place in the house that was +really safe. The fact that the ball had remained there, untouched, all +through the cricket season abundantly demonstrated the justice of my +conclusion. My jubilation was so exuberant that it drove all thought +of the peg-top out of my mind. There is such a thing as the expulsive +power of an old affection as well as the expulsive power of a new +affection. My delight over my new-found cricket ball entirely +dispelled my grief over my missing peg-top. Indeed, I am not sure to +this day whether I ever saw that peg-top again. I may have +inadvertently deposited it on a shelf that my brother could reach; but +after the lapse of so many years I will endeavour to harbour no dark +suspicions. In any case, it does not matter. What is a paltry peg-top +compared with a half-guinea cricket ball? I had sought, and I had +found. I had not found what I had sought, nor had I sought what I had +found. Perhaps if I had continued my search for the peg-top with the +enthusiasm and assiduity with which I had lugged the kitchen table up +to the corner cupboard, I should have found it. Perhaps if I had +searched for the cricket ball with the same zest that marked my quest +of the peg-top, I should have found it. But that is not my point. My +point is the point with which I set out. I do not believe that a case +of a really unsuccessful search has ever been recorded. He that +seeketh, findeth, depend upon it. + +The days of the peg-top and the cricket ball seem a long way behind me +now, and I am glad that the fate of the queer old corner cupboard has +been mercifully hidden from my eyes. But, by sea and land, the +principle that I first discovered when I stood on tiptoe on the kitchen +table has followed me all down the years. The secret that I learned +that day has acted like a talisman, and has turned every spot that I +have visited into an enchanted ground. Even my study table is not +immune from its magic spell. A more prosaic spectacle never met the +eye. The desk, the pigeon-holes, the drawers, and the piles of papers +might have to do with a foundry or a fish-market, so very unromantic do +they appear. And yet, what times I have whenever I manage to lose +something! It is almost worth while losing something just for the fun +of looking for it! If a catalogue or a circular will only go astray, +all the excitements of a chase lie open before me. And the things that +I shall find! I shall come on letters that will make me laugh and +letters that will make me cry. Hullo, what's this? Dear me, I must +write to so-and-so, or he will think I have forgotten him! And just +look here! I must run round and see what's-his-name this afternoon, +and fix this matter up. And so I go on. The probability is that I +shall no more find the catalogue that set me searching than I found the +peg-top in the days of auld lang syne; but what has that to do with it? +Look at the things I have found, the memories I have revived, the tasks +that have been suggested! Life has been incalculably enriched by the +fruits of this search through the papers on my study table. If I do +not find the peg-top-papers for which I sought, I have found +cricket-ball-papers immensely more valuable, and the rapture of my +sensational discoveries renders the fate of my poor peg-top-papers a +matter of comparative indifference. The series of thrills produced by +such a search is reminiscent of the emotions with which I enjoyed my +first magic-lantern entertainment. On they came, one after another, +those wonderful, wonderful pictures in the darkness. On they came, one +after another, these startling surprises from out these musty-fusty +piles of papers. A search is really a marvellous experience. The +imagination flies with lightning rapidity from one world of things to +another and another as the papers rustle between the fingers. John +Ploughman used to say that, even if the fowls got nothing by it, it did +them good to scratch. I am not a poultry expert, as I am frequently +reminded, but I dare say that there is a wealth of wisdom in the +observation. At any rate, I know that, in my own case, the success or +failure of my search expeditions stand in no way related to the +original object of my quest. I never remember having set out to look +for a thing, and afterwards regretted having done so. + +I was wondering the other day if the same principle applied to other +people, and I cruelly determined on a little experiment. My girls +collect orchids, and much of their time in the city is spent in +recounting the foraging expeditions that they have conducted in happy +days gone by, and in anticipating similar adventures in the golden +times before them. Some of the pleasantest holidays that we have +enjoyed together have been spent away in the heart of the bush where +Nature runs riot and revels in undisturbed profusion. It is delightful +to see them come traipsing along the track through the bush, their +faces flushed with the excitement of their foray, and their arms filled +with the booty they have gathered. They are tired, evidently, but not +too tired to run when they catch sight of us. 'Look at this!' cries +one; and 'Isn't that a pretty colour?' asks the other. 'Did you ever +see one that shape before?' 'Fancy finding one of these!' And so on. +And then the evening is spent in pressing and classifying the treasures +they have gathered. + +One day they came back, earlier than usual, and showed us their +discoveries. + +'But, oh, father, it was an awful shame! You know that kind that Ella +Simpson showed us once, and told us they were very rare? Well, we +found one of those, a real beauty, away over in that valley beyond the +sandhills; and on the way home we lost it. Wasn't it a pity?' + +'Do you mean the little pale blue one, with the orange fringe?' I +inquired. + +'Yes, and it was just in full flower, and ready for picking.' + +'It was a pity,' I confessed, 'for, do you know I specially want one of +those. Do you think you could go back and try hard to find one?' + +They agreed. I advised them to search with the greatest care, and to +poke into places that they had not disturbed before. They returned an +hour later with no further specimen of the blue and orange variety, +although on a subsequent date they succeeded in unearthing one, but +they were rejoicing over a number of very rare specimens that are now +considered among the most valuable in their collection. + +In _It is Never Too Late to Mend_, Charles Reade has a story that is +right into our hands just here. 'Once upon a time,' he makes one of +his characters say, 'once upon a time there was an old chap who had +heard about treasure being found in odd places, a pot full of guineas +or something; and it took root in his heart. One morning he comes down +and says to his wife, "It is all right, old woman; I've found the +treasure!" "No, have you, though?" says she. "Yes," says he; +"leastways, it is as good as found; it is only waiting till I've had my +breakfast, and then I'll go out and fetch it in!" "La, John, but how +did you find it!" "It was revealed to me in a dream," says John, as +grave as a judge; "it is under a tree in the orchard." After breakfast +they went to the plantation, but John could not again recognize the +tree. "Drat your stupid old head," cried his wife, "why didn't you put +a nick on the right one at the time?" But John was not to be beaten. +He resolved to dig under every tree. How the neighbours laughed! But +springtime came. Out burst the trees. "Wife," says he, "our bloom is +richer than I have known it this many a year; it is richer than our +neighbours'!" Bloom dies, and then out come about a million little +green things quite hard. In the autumn the old trees were staggering, +and the branches down to the ground with the crop; and so the next +year, and the next; sometimes more, sometimes less, according to the +year. The trees were old, and wanted a change. His letting in the air +to them, and turning the subsoil up to the frost and sun, had renewed +their youth.' And so poor John found his treasure. It was not exactly +the pot of guineas that he sought; but it was just as valuable, and +probably afforded him a deeper gratification. He did not find what he +sought, but who shall say that his search was unsuccessful? He that +seeketh, findeth. There is no case on record of a really fruitless +search. + +Mr. Gilbert West and Lord Lyttelton once undertook to organize a +campaign to expose the fictitious character of the biblical narrative. +In order to make their attack the more damaging and the more effective +they agreed to specialize. Mr. West promised to study thoroughly the +story of the Resurrection of Jesus. Lord Lyttelton selected as the +point of his assault the record of the conversion of Paul. They +separated; and each began a careful and exhaustive search for +inaccuracies, incongruities, and contradictions in the documents. They +were engaged in exposing error, they said, and in searching after +truth. Yes, they were searching after truth, and they sought with +earnestness and sincerity. They were searching after truth, and they +found it. For when, at the appointed time, they met to arrange the +details of their projected campaign, each had to confess to the other +that he had become convinced of the authenticity of the records and had +yielded to the claims of Christ! Here was a search! Here was a find! +They sought what they never found, and they found what they never +sought. Was the search unsuccessful? Seekers after truth, they +called themselves; and did they not find the Truth? Like the Magi, +they followed a star in the firmament with which they were familiar. +But, to their amazement, the star led them to the Saviour, and neither +of them ever regretted participating in so astonishing a quest. + +'And thus,' as Oliver Cromwell finely says, 'to be a seeker is to be of +the best sect next to a finder, and such an one shall every faithful +humble seeker be at the end.' It always seems to me that the old +Puritan's lovely letter to his daughter, the letter from which I have +just quoted, is the gem of Carlyle's great volume. Bridget was +twenty-two at the time. 'Your sister,' her father tells her, 'is +exercised with some perplexed thoughts. She sees her own vanity and +carnal mind, and, bewailing it, she seeks after what will satisfy. And +thus to be a seeker is to be of the best sect next to a finder, and +such an one shall every faithful humble seeker be at the end. Happy +seeker; happy finder! Dear heart, press on! Let not husband, let not +anything, cool thy affections after Christ!' + +With which strong, tender, fatherly words from an old soldier to his +young daughter we may very well take leave of the subject. 'Happy +seeker; happy finder! Dear heart, press on!' Oliver Cromwell knew +that there is no such thing as a fruitless search. If we do not come +upon our shining treasure in the exact form that our ignorance had +fancied, we discover it after a similitude that a much higher wisdom +has ordained. But the point is that we do find it. That was the +lesson that I learned as I peered into the abysmal darkness of the +mysterious old cupboard in my childhood, and the longer I live the more +certain I become of its truth. + + + + +VII + +WITH THE WOLVES IN THE WILD + +I + +I like to think that Jesus spent forty nights of His wondrous life out +in the Wild with the wolves. 'He was with the wild beasts,' Mark tells +us, and the statement is not recorded for nothing. Night is the great +leveller. Desert and prairie are indistinguishable in the night. +Night folds everything in sable robes, and the loveliest landscape is +one with the dreariest prospect. North and South, East and West, are +all alike in the night. Here is the Wild of the West. 'A vast silence +reigned,' Jack London tells us. 'The land itself was a desolation, +lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was +not even that of sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter--the +masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the +futility of life and the effort of life. It was the Wild--the savage, +frozen-hearted Northern Wild!' Here, I say, is the Wild. And here is +the life of the Wild: 'Bill opened his mouth to speak, but changed his +mind. Instead, he pointed towards the wall of darkness that pressed +about them from every side. There was no suggestion of form in the +utter blackness; only could be seen a pair of eyes gleaming like live +coals. Henry indicated with his hand a second pair and a third. A +circle of the gleaming eyes had drawn about their camp. Now and again +a pair of eyes moved, or disappeared to appear again a moment later.' + +What did it mean--those restless flashing eyes, like fireflies breaking +across the surface of the darkness? It simply meant that they were in +the Wild at night, and they were with the wild beasts. And what does +it mean, this vivid fragment from my Bible? It means that _He_ was in +the Wild at night, night after night for forty nights, and _He_ was +with the wild beasts. He heard the roar of the lion as it awoke the +echoes of the slumbering forest. He saw the hyena pass stealthily near +Him in the track of a timid deer, and watched the cheetah prowl through +the brushwood in pursuit of a young gazelle. He heard the squeal of +the hare as the crouching fox sprang out; and the flutter of the +partridge as the jackal seized its prey. He heard the slither of the +viper as it glided through the grass beside His head; and was startled +by the shrieking of the nightbirds, and the flapping of their wings, as +they whirled and swooped about Him. And He too saw the gleaming eyes +of the hungry wolves as they drew their fierce cordon around Him. For +He was out in the Wild for forty nights, and He was with the wild +beasts. + + +II + +And yet He was unhurt! Now why was He unharmed those forty nights with +the scrub around Him alive with claws and talons and fangs? He was +with the wild beasts, Mark tells us, and yet no lion sprang upon Him; +no lone wolf slashed at Him with her frightful fangs; no serpent bit +Him. + +'Henry,' said one of Jack London's heroes to the other, as they watched +the wolfish eyes flashing hither and thither in the darkness, 'it's an +awful misfortune to be out of ammunition!' + +But _He_ was unarmed and unprotected! No blade was in His hand; no +ring of fire blazed round about Him to affright the prowling brutes. +And yet He was unharmed! Not a tooth nor a claw left scratch or gash +upon Him! Why was it? It will never do to fall back upon the +miraculous, for the very point of the story of the Temptation is His +sublime refusal to sustain Himself by superhuman aid. By the +employment of miracle He could easily have commanded the stones to +become bread, and He might thus have grandly answered the taunt of the +Tempter and have appeased the gnawings of His body's hunger at one and +the same time. But it would have spoiled everything. He went into the +Wild to be tempted 'like as we are tempted'; and since miracle is not +at _our_ disposal He would not let it be at _His_. It is impossible, +therefore, to suppose that He scorned the aid of miracle to protect Him +from hunger, but called in the aid of miracle to protect Him from the +beasts. + +Now in order to solve this problem I turned to my Bible, beginning at +the very beginning. And there, in the very first chapter, I found the +explanation. 'Have dominion,' God said, 'over the fish of the sea, and +over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon +the earth.' There was nothing really miraculous in Christ's authority +over the fish. I never see a man dangling with a line without a sigh +for our lost dominion. There was nothing really miraculous in Christ's +immunity from harm. The wolves did not tear Him; He told them not to +do so. He was a man, just such a man as God meant all men to be. And +therefore He 'had dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl +of the air, and over every living thing that creepeth upon the earth.' +He was unscathed in the midst of the wolves, not because He was +superhuman, but because He was truly human. We are something less than +human, the wrecks and shadows of men. Having forfeited the authority +of our humanity, the fish no longer obey us, and we have perforce to +dangle for them with hooks and strings. The wolves and the tigers no +longer stand off at our command, and we have to fall back upon +camp-fires and pistols. It is very humiliating! The crown is fallen +from our heads, and all things finned and furred and feathered mock us +in our shame. But Thine, O Man of men, is the power and the dominion, +and all the creatures of the Wild obey Thee! 'He was with the wild +beasts.' + + +III + +What did those wild, dumb, eloquent eyes say to Jesus as they looked +wonderingly at Him out there in the Wild? As they bounded out of the +thicket, crouched, stared at Him, and slunk away, what did they say to +Him, those great lean wolves? And what did He say to them? Animals +are such eloquent things, especially at such times. 'The foxes have +holes,' Jesus said, long afterwards, remembering as He said it how He +watched the creatures of the Wild seek out their lairs. 'And the birds +of the air have nests,' He said, remembering the twittering and +fluttering in the boughs above His head as the feathered things settled +down for the night. 'But the Son of Man hath not where to lay His +head,' He concluded, as He thought of those long, long nights in the +homeless Wild. Did He mean that the wolves were better off than He +was? We are all tempted to think so when the conflict is pressing too +hardly upon us. There seems to be less choice, and therefore less +responsibility, among the beasts of the field; less play of right and +wrong. 'I think,' said Walt Whitman-- + + I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so + placid and self-contained; + I stand and look at them sometimes an hour at a stretch. + They do not sweat and whine about their condition, + They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, + They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, + Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania + of owning things, + Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived + thousands of years ago, + Not one is respectable or industrious over the whole earth. + +Was some flitting, hovering thought like this part of the Temptation in +the Wild? Is that what Mark means when he says so significantly that +'He was with the wild beasts'? Surely; for He was tempted in _all_ +points like as we are, and we have all been tempted in this. 'Good old +Carlo!' we have said, as we patted the dog's head, looking down out of +our eyes of anguish into his calm, impassive gaze. 'Good old Carlo, +you don't know anything of such struggles, old boy!' And we have +fancied for a moment that Carlo had the best of it. It was a black and +blasphemous thought, and He struck it away, as we should strike at a +hawk that fluttered in front of our faces and threatened to pick at our +eyes. But for one moment it hovered before Him, and He caught its ugly +glance. It is a very ugly glance. Our capacity for great inward +strife and for great inward suffering is the one proof we have that we +were made in the image of God. + + +IV + +Was He thinking, I wonder, when He went out to the wolves in the Wild +of those who, before so very long, would be torn to pieces by hungry +beasts for His dear sake? + +'To-day,' said Amplonius, a teacher of the persecuted Roman Christians, +'to-day, by the cruel order of Trajan, Ignatius was thrown to the wild +beasts in the arena. He it was, my children, whom Jesus took, when as +yet he was but a little child, and set him in the midst of the +disciples and said, "Except ye be converted, and become as little +children, ye cannot enter the kingdom of heaven." And now, from the +same Lord who that day laid His sacred hands upon his head, he has +received the martyr crown. But Ignatius did not fear the beasts, my +children. I have seen a letter which he wrote but yesterday to the +aged Polycarp, the angel of the Church of Smyrna. In it he says that +the hungry creatures have no terrors for him. "Would to God," he said, +"that I were come to the beasts prepared for me. I wish that, with +their gaping mouths, they were now ready to rush upon me. Let the +angry beasts tear asunder my members so that I may win Christ Jesus." +Thus Ignatius wrote but yesterday to the beloved Polycarp; and to-day, +with a face like the face of an angel, he gave himself to the wolves. +We know not which of us shall suffer next, my children. The people are +still crying wildly, "The Christians to the lions!" It may be that I, +your teacher, shall be the next to witness for the faith. But let us +remember that for forty days and forty nights Jesus was Himself with +the wild beasts, and not one of them durst harm Him. And He is still +with the wild beasts wherever we His people, are among them; and their +cruel fangs can only tear us so far as it is for our triumph and His +glory.' So spake Amplonius, and the Church was comforted. + +And at this hour there is, in the catacomb at St. Callixtus, at Rome, a +rude old picture of Jesus among the untamed creatures of the Wild. The +thought that lions and leopards crouched at His feet in the days of His +flesh, and were subject unto Him, was very precious to the hunted and +suffering people. + + +V + +Sometimes, too, I fancy that He saw, in these savage brutes that harmed +Him not, a symbol and a prophecy of His own great conquest. For they, +with their hateful fangs and blooded talons, were part of His vast +constituency. 'The whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain +together,' Paul declares. Richard Jefferies pointed to a quaint little +English cottage beside a glorious bank of violets. But he could never +bring himself to pluck the fragrant blossoms, for, in the cottage, the +dreaded small-pox had once raged. 'It seemed,' says Jefferies, 'to +quite spoil the violet bank. There is something in disease so +destructive; as it were, to flowers.' And as the violets shared the +scourge, so the creatures shared the curse. And as they stared dumbly +into the eyes of the Son of God they seemed to half understand that +their redemption was drawing nigh. 'In Nature herself,' as Longfellow +says, 'there is a waiting and hoping, a looking and yearning, after an +unknown something. Yes, when above there, on the mountain, the lonely +eagle looks forth into the grey dawn to see if the day comes not; when +by the mountain torrent the brooding raven listens to hear if the +chamois is returning from his nightly pasture in the valley; and when +the rising sun calls out the spicy odours of the Alpine flowers, then +there awake in Nature an expectation and a longing for a future +revelation of God's majesty.' Did He see this brooding sense of +expectancy in the fierce eyes about Him? And did He rejoice that the +hope of the Wild would in Him be gloriously fulfilled? Who knows? + +In his _Cloister and the Hearth_, Charles Reade tells of the temptation +and triumph of Clement the hermit. 'And one keen frosty night, as he +sang the praises of God to his tuneful psaltery, and his hollow cave +rang with his holy melody, he heard a clear whine, not unmelodious. It +became louder. He peeped through the chinks of his rude door, and +there sat a great red wolf moaning melodiously with his nose high in +the air! Clement was delighted. "My sins are going," he cried, "and +the creatures of God are owning me!" And in a burst of enthusiasm he +sang: + + Praise Him, all ye creatures of His! + Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord! + +And all the time he sang the wolf bayed at intervals.' Did Jesus, I +wonder, see the going of the world's sin and the departure of its +primal curse in the faces of the wild things that howled and roared +around Him? As the fierce things prowled around Him and left Him +unharmed, did He see a symbol of His final subjugation of all earth's +savage and restless elements? Who shall say? + + +VI + +'He was with the wild beasts,' says Mark, 'and the angels ministered +unto Him.' Life always hovers between the beasts and the angels; and +however wolfish may be the eyes that affright us in the day of our +temptation, we may be sure that our solitary struggle is watched by +invisible spectators, and that, after the baying of the beasts, we +shall hear the angels sing. + + + + +VIII + +DICK SUNSHINE + +Dick Sunshine was not his real name; at least so they said. But the +thing that they called his real name did not describe him a scrap; it +seemed to abandon all attempt at description as hopelessly impossible; +but when you called him Dick Sunshine it fitted him like a glove. That +is the immense advantage that nicknames possess over real names. Of +all real things, real names are the most unreal. There is no life in +them. They stand for nothing; they express nothing; they reveal +nothing. They bear no kind of relationship to the unfortunate +individuals who are sentenced to wear them, like meaningless badges, +for the term of their natural lives. But nicknames, on the other hand, +sparkle and flash; they bring the man himself vividly and palpitatingly +before you; and without more introduction or ado, you know him at once +for what he is. That is the reason why we prefer to be called by our +real names. We know in our secret souls that our nicknames are our +true names, and that our real names are mere tags and badges; but we +prefer the meaningless tag to the too candid truth. There are obvious +disadvantages in being constantly spoken of as Mr. Grump, Mrs. +Crosspatch, or Miss Spitfire; whereas Mr. Smith, Mrs. Robinson, or Miss +Jones are much safer and more non-committal. But, for all that, the +nicknames, depend upon it, are the true names. Nicknames reveal the +man; real names conceal the man. And since, in the case of my present +hero, I desire to reveal everything and to conceal nothing, it is +obviously desirable to speak of him by his nickname, which is his true +name, rather than by his real name, which is a mere affectation and +artificiality. He was always Dick Sunshine to me, and I noticed that +the children always called him Dick Sunshine, and children are not +easily deceived. Besides, he _was_ Dick Sunshine, so what is the use +of beating about the bush? + +Who was Dick Sunshine? It is difficult to say. He was partly a grocer +and party a consumptive. He spent half his time laughing, and half his +time coughing. He only stopped laughing in order to cough; and he only +stopped coughing in order to laugh. You could always tell which he was +doing at any particular time by taking a glance at the shop. If the +shop was open, you knew that Dick was behind the counter laughing. If +it was closed, you knew that he was in bed coughing. A fine-looking +fellow was Dick, or would have been if only his health had given him a +chance. Fine wavy golden hair tossed in naive disorder about his lofty +forehead; and a small pointed golden beard set off a frank, cheery, +open face. Somehow or other, there was a certain touch of chivalry +about Dick, although it is not easy to say exactly how it made itself +felt. It was a certain knightly bearing, perhaps, a haughty contempt +for his own suffering, a rollicking but resolute refusal of anything in +the shape of pity. Coughing or laughing, there was always a roguish +little twinkle in the corner of his eye, a kind of danger signal that +kept you on constant guard lest his next sally should take you by +surprise. + +The church at North-East Valley has had its ups and downs, like most +churches, but as long as Dick was its secretary it never had a gloomy +church meeting. However grave or unexpected might be the crisis, he +came up smiling, and greeted the unseen with a cheer. When things were +going well, he always made the most of it, and drew attention to the +encouraging features in the church's outlook. If things were so-so, he +pointed out that they might have been a great deal worse, and that the +church was putting up a brave fight against heavy odds. If anybody +criticized the minister, Dick was on his feet in a minute. Could the +minister do everything? Dick wanted to know. Was he solely +responsible for the unsatisfactory conditions? Why, anybody who +watches the minister can see that the poor man is doing his best, +which, Dick slyly added, is more than can be said for some of us! And +the ministers of North-East Valley used to tell me that when they +themselves got down in the dumps, Dick treated their collapse as a +glorious joke. He would come down to the Manse and laugh until he +coughed, and cough until he could laugh again, and, by the time that he +stopped laughing and coughing, the masses of his golden hair were +tumbled about his high forehead like shocks of corn blown from the +stocks by playful winds in harvest-time; and when he went home to +finish his coughing, the Manse was flooded with the laughter and the +sunshine that he had left behind him. + +I was sitting one morning in my study at Mosgiel, when there came a +ring at the front door bell. On answering it, I found myself standing +face to face with Dick. He was laughing so violently that he could at +first scarcely salute me. He followed me into the study, and assured +me as he sank into a chair that it was the fun of the world. I asked +him to explain the cause of his boisterous merriment. + +'Had to give it up!' he gasped. 'The doctors told me that I should die +in a week if I remained in the shop any longer. So I've left it to +look after itself, and come away. No fun in dying in a week, you know!' + +I admitted that there was something in that, and inquired what he was +going to do now. + +'That's the joke!' he roared, between laughter and coughing. 'I've +come to stay with you.' + +There was nothing for it but to let him take his time, so I patiently +awaited further explanation. At length it came. + +'Just as I was locking up the shop,' he said, presently, 'I heard that +the temperance people wanted a lecturer and organizer to work this +district. Except the lecturing, it will be all open-air work, so I +applied for it, and got it!' + +'But, my dear fellow,' I remonstrated, 'I never knew that you could +lecture. Why, outside the church meeting, you never made a speech in +your life!' + +'That's part of the joke!' he cried, going off again into a paroxysm of +laughter. 'But I told them that you would help me at the first, and +they appointed me on that condition. So this is to be my head +quarters!' + +His duties were to commence the following week, and we arranged that he +should make his debut as a lecturer at a place called Outram, about +eight miles across country from Mosgiel. I promised to accompany him, +and to fill up such time as he found it impossible or inconvenient to +occupy. In the meantime he got to work with his visiting and +organizing. The open air suited him, his health improved amazingly, +and the Mosgiel Manse simply rocked under the storms of his boisterous +gaiety. Sometimes the shadow of the coming ordeal spread itself +heavily over his spirit, and he came to the study with unwonted gravity +to ask how this or that point in his maiden effort had better be +approached. To prevent his anxiety under this head from becoming too +much for his fragile frame, I lent him a book, and sent him out on to +the sunlit verandah to read it. It chanced to be _The Old Curiosity +Shop_. He had never read anything of Dickens, and it opened a new +world to him. I have never seen anybody fall more completely under the +spell of the magician. From the study I would hear him suddenly yell +with laughter, and come rushing through the hall to read me some +passage that had just captivated his fancy. Whenever he came stealing +along like a thief, I knew it was to talk about the lecture; when he +came like an incarnate thunderstorm, I knew it was about the book. + +One passage in the famous story especially appealed to him. It was the +part about Codlin and Short, the Punch and Judy men. In the middle of +dinner, without the slightest provocation or warning, he would suddenly +drop his knife and fork, throw himself back in his chair, slap his leg +a sounding blow with his hand, and shriek out, 'Codlin's your friend, +not Short,' and then go off into ecstasies of glee as he told the tale +all over again. + +Well, Monday--the day of his opening lecture--came at last. During the +day he was unusually quiet and taciturn, although, even in face of the +grim test that awaited him, the Punch and Judy men haunted his memory +and led to occasional subdued outbursts of fun. After tea we set out. +It was a delicious evening. Few things are sweeter than the early +evenings of early summer. The sunset is throwing long shadows across +the fresh green grass, and the birds are busy in the boughs. +Everything about us was clad in its softest and loveliest garb. We +drove on between massive hedges of fragrant hawthorn, and up huge +avenues of stately blue gum trees, scattering the rabbits before us. +Then we caught sight of the river, and drove over the bridge into the +quiet little town in which such unsuspected adventures awaited us. +Dick was pale and quiet; his sunshine was veiled in banks of cloud, and +I found it difficult to rouse him. On arrival at the hall we found it +crowded. I was naturally delighted; his pleasure was more restrained. +Indeed, he confided to me, with a look that, for him, was positively +lugubrious, that he would have been more gratified if the horrid place +had been empty. However, there was nothing for it. Not a soul, except +myself, knew that Dick was lecturing for the first time in his life; +the chairman led us to the platform; and, after a brief introduction +relative to the renown of the speakers, he called upon Dick to address +the townsfolk. As a maiden effort it was a triumph; his native good +humour combined with careful preparation to produce a really excellent +effect; and he sat down amidst a thunder of applause. I filled in an +odd half-hour, and then the chairman nearly killed Dick at one blow. + +'Would anybody in the audience care to ask either of the speakers a +question?' he gravely inquired. + +Poor Dick was the picture of abject dismay. This was a flank attack +for which he was totally unprepared. An elderly gentleman, in the body +of the hall, rose slowly, adjusted his spectacles, and, with grave +deliberation, announced that he wished to submit a question to the +first speaker. Dick looked like a man whose death-warrant was about to +be signed. The problem was duly enunciated, and it turned out to be a +carefully planned and decidedly awkward one. I wondered how on earth +poor Dick would face the music. He paused, as though considering his +reply. Then a sudden light mantled his face. A wicked twinkle +sparkled in his eye. He rose smartly, looked straight into the face of +his questioner, and exclaimed confidently: + +'Codlin's your friend, not Short!' + +The audience was completely mystified. The answer had no more to do +with the question than Dutch cheese has to do with the rings of Saturn. +For a fraction of a second you could have heard a pin drop. I saw that +the only way of saving the situation was by commencing to applaud, and +I smote my hands together with a will, and laughed as I have rarely +allowed myself to laugh in public. The sympathetic section of the +audience followed suit. A general impression seemed to exist that, +somehow, Dick had made a particularly clever point. The old gentleman +who had asked the question was manifestly bewildered; he gazed +helplessly round on his cheering fellow citizens, and evidently +regarded the answer as some recondite allusion of which it would never +do to display his ignorance. He resumed his seat, discomfited and +ashamed. When the applause and laughter had somewhat subsided, I rose +and moved a vote of thanks to the chairman, which Dick seconded, +though, I fancied, without much show of enthusiasm. Thus the meeting, +which Dick never forgot, came to an eminently satisfactory end, +although I heard privately long afterwards that, as the people took +their homeward way along those country roads, many who had applauded +vigorously inquired confidentially of their neighbours the exact +bearing of the cryptic reply on the particular matter in hand. + +If Dick lacked laughter on the way across the plains to the meeting, he +amply atoned for the deficiency on the way home. How he roared, and +yelled, and screamed in his glee! + +'I had to say something,' he exclaimed. 'I hadn't the slightest idea +what the old gentleman was talking about; and the only thing I could +think of was the Punch and Judy!' + +He laughed and coughed his way through that campaign. Everybody grew +wonderfully fond of him, and looked eagerly for his coming. He did a +world of good, and shamed scores of us out of the gloom in which we +bore our slighter maladies. My mail from New Zealand tells me that, at +last, his cough has proved too much for him, so he has given it up. +But I like to fancy that, in the land where coughing is no more heard, +Dick Sunshine is laughing still. + + + + +IX + +FORTY! + +Life moves along so smoothly with most of us that there seems to be +very little difference between one birthday and another; but to this +rule there is one brilliant and outstanding exception. There is one +birthday on which a man should certainly take a holiday, go for a quiet +stroll, and indulge in a little serious stock-taking. That birthday +is, of course, the fortieth. A man's fortieth birthday is one of the +really great days in his life's little story; and he must make the most +of it. I live in a city which boasts a comparatively meagre +population. The number of people who reach their fortieth birthday +simultaneously must be very small. But in a city of any size some +hundreds of people must daily become forty. And if I dwelt in such a +place, I should feel tempted to conduct a service every now and again +for men and women who were celebrating their fortieth birthday. People +so circumstanced, naturally impressed by the dignity and solemnity of +the occasion, would welcome such a service, and the preacher would have +a chance of sowing the seed in ground that was well prepared, and of +the greatest possible promise. The selection of a text would present +no difficulty. I can think of two right off--one in the Old Testament, +and one in the New--and there must be scores of others equally +appropriate. At forty a man enters upon middle life. What could be +more helpful to him, then, than a short inspiring word on such a text +as Habakkuk's prayer: '_O Lord, revive Thy work in the midst of the +years, in the midst of the years make Thyself known!_' + +I have been recalling, this morning, some painful memories. In my time +I have several times known that peculiarly acute species of anguish +that only comes to us when we discover a cherished idol in ruins. +Men--some of them ministers--upon whose integrity I would cheerfully +have staked everything I possessed, suddenly whelmed themselves in +shame, and staggered out into the dark. It is an experience that makes +a man feel that the very earth is rocking beneath him; it makes him +wonder if it is possible for a good man to be somehow caught in a hot +gust of devilry and swept clean off his feet. But the thing that has +impressed me as I have counted such names sadly on my fingers is that, +without an exception, they were all in the forties, most of them in the +early forties. Youth, of course, often sins, and sins grievously; but +youth recovers itself, and frequently emerges chastened and ennobled by +the bitter experience; but I can recall no instance of a man who fell +in the forties and who ever really recovered himself. Wherefore let +him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall. I remember that, +some time ago, Sir W. Robertson Nicoll quoted a brilliant essayist as +saying that 'the most dangerous years are the forties--the years when +men begin to be rich, when they have opportunities of gratifying their +passions, when they, perhaps, imagine that they have led a starved and +meagre existence.' And so, as I let my mind play about these old and +saddening memories, and as I reflect upon the essayist's corroboration +of my own conclusion, I fancy I could utter, from the very heart of me, +a particularly timely and particularly searching word to those who had +just attained their fortieth birthdays. Or, if I felt that the +occasion was too solemn for speech, I could at least lead them in +prayer. And when I led them in prayer, it would certainly be +Habakkuk's prayer: 'O Lord, revive Thy work in the midst of the years; +in the midst of the years make Thyself known!' It is a prayer for +revival and for revelation. + +The real significance of that prayer lies in the fact that the supreme +tendency of middle life is towards prosiness. Young people write +poetry and get sentimental: so do old people. But people in the +forties--never! A man of forty would as soon be suspected of picking +his neighbour's pocket as of writing poetry. He would rather be seen +walking down the street without collar or necktie than be seen shedding +tears. Ask a company of young people to select some of their favourite +hymns or songs. They will at once call for hymns about heaven or songs +about love. So will old people. But you will never persuade +middle-aged people to sing such songs. They are in the practical or +prosy stage of life. The romance of youth has worn off; the romance of +age has not arrived. They are between the poetry of the dawn and the +poetry of the twilight. And midway between the poetry of the dawn and +the poetry of the twilight comes the panting perspiration of noonday. +When, therefore, I find myself face to face with my congregation of +people who are in the very act of celebrating their fortieth birthday, +I shall urge them to pray with the old prophet that, in the midst of +the years, the youthful romance of their first faith may be revived +within them, and that, in the midst of the years, the revelations that +come at eventide may be delightfully anticipated. + +I said just now, however, that I had an alternative text from the New +Testament. I have an idea that if my first service is a success, I +shall hold another; and, for the sake of variety, I shall address +myself to this second theme. Concerning the very first apostolic +miracle we are expressly and significantly told that '_the man was +above forty years old on whom this miracle of healing was showed_.' +Now I cannot imagine why that particular is added unless it is to tell +those of us who are now 'above forty years old' that we are not beyond +the reach of the sensational. We have not outlived the romance of the +miraculous. We are not 'too old at forty' to experience all the marvel +and the wonder of the grace divine. And, even as I write, I +confidently anticipate the sparkle that will light up the eyes of these +forty-year-olds as I remind them that that man was above forty years of +age upon whom this first triumph of the Church was wrought. + +But there are worse things than prosiness. The mere change from the +poetry of youth to the prose of middle life need not in itself alarm +us. Some of the finest classics in our literature are penned in prose. +But within this minor peril lies the germ of a major peril. The +trouble is that prosiness may develop into pessimism. And when +prosiness curdles into pessimism the case of the patient is very grave. +I heard a young fellow in his teens telling a much older man of his +implicit faith in the providence of God. 'Yes,' said the senior, with +a sardonic smile, 'I used to talk like that when I was your age!' I +heard a young girl telling a woman old enough to be her mother of the +rapture of her soul's experience. 'Ah!' replied the elder lady, 'You +won't talk like that when you have seen as much of the world as I +have!' Here, then, at last we have put our finger on the tragedy that +threatens us in the forties. Why is it? + +The reason is not far to seek. The fact is that at forty a man must +drop something. He has been all his life accumulating until he has +become really overloaded. He has maintained his interest in all the +things that occupied his attention in youth; and, all the way along the +road, fresh claims have been made upon him. His position in the world +is a much more responsible one, and makes a greater drain upon his +thought and energy. He has married, too, and children have come into +his home. There has been struggle and sickness and anxiety. Interests +have multiplied, and life has increased in seriousness. But, +increasing in seriousness, it must not be allowed to increase in +sordidness. A man's life is like a garden. There is a limit to the +things that it will grow. You cannot pack plants in a garden as you +pack sardines in a tin. That is why the farmer thins out the turnips; +that is why the orchardist prunes his trees; and that is why the +husbandman pinches the grapebuds off the trailing vines. Life has to +be similarly treated. At forty a man realizes that his garden is +getting overcrowded. It contains all the flowers that he planted in +his sentimental youth and all the vegetables that he set there in his +prosaic manhood. It is too much. There must be a thinning out. And, +unless he is very, very careful, he will find that the thinning-out +process will automatically consist of the sacrifice of all the pansies +and the retention of all the potatoes. + +Now, when I address my congregation of people who are celebrating their +fortieth birthday, I shall make a most fervent appeal on behalf of the +pansies. Potatoes are excellent things, and the garden becomes +distinctly wealthier when, in the twenties and thirties, a man begins +to moderate his passion for pansies, and to plant a few potatoes. But +a time comes when he must make a stand on behalf of the pansies, or he +will have no soul for anything beyond potatoes. Round his potato beds +let him jealously retain a border of his finest pansies; and, depend +upon it, when he gets into the fifties and the sixties he will be glad +that, all through life, he remained true to the first fondnesses of +youth. + +Not that he will have to wait for the fifties and the sixties. As soon +as a man has faced the situation, taken his stand, and made his +decision, he begins to congratulate himself upon it. That is one of +life's most subtle laws. Let us, then, see how it operates in another +field. Sir Francis Jeune, the great divorce judge, said that the +eighth year was the dangerous year in wedded life. More tragedies +occurred in the eighth year than in any other. And Mr. Philip Gibbs +has recently written a novel entitled _The Eighth Year_, in which he +makes the heroine declare that, in marriage, the eighth year is the +fatal year. + +'"It's a psychological fact," said Madge. "I work it out in this way. +In the first and second years a wife is absorbed in the experiment of +marriage and in the sentimental phase of love. In the third and fourth +years she begins to study her husband and to find him out. In the +fifth and sixth years, having found him out completely, she makes a +working compromise with life and tries to make the best of it. In the +seventh and eighth years she begins to find out herself. Life has +become prosaic. Her home has become a cage to her. In the eighth year +she must find a way of escape--anyhow, anywhere. And in the eighth +year the one great question is, in what direction will she go? There +are many ways of escape."' And so comes the disaster. + +All this seems to show that the eighth year of marriage is like the +fortieth year of life. It is the year in which husband and wife are +called upon to make their supreme stand on behalf of the pansies. And +supposing they do it? Suppose that they make up their minds that +everything shall not be sacrificed to potatoes; what follows? Why, to +be sure, the best follows. Coventry Patmore, in his _Angel in the +House_--the classic of all young husbands and young wives--says that +the years that follow the eighth are the sweetest and the fullest of +all. What, he asks-- + + What + For sweetness like the ten years' wife, + Whose customary love is not + Her passion, or her play, but life? + With beauties so maturely fair, + Affecting, mild, and manifold, + May girlish charms no more compare + Than apples green with apples gold. + Ah, still unpraised Honoria, Heaven, + When you into my arms it gave, + Left naught hereafter to be given + But grace to feel the good I have. + + +Here, then, is the crisis reached; the stand successfully made on +behalf of the pansies; and all life fuller and richer for ever +afterwards in consequence. Every man and woman at forty is called upon +for a similar chivalrous effort. At forty we become the knights of the +pansies, and if we let them go we shall find that at fifty it will be +difficult to find even a sprig of heartsease anywhere. + +Whether I take as my text the prophet's prayer for a revival and a +revelation in the midst of the years, or the story of the man who was +more than forty years old when he fell under the spell of the +miraculous, I know how I shall close my sermon. I shall close by +telling the story of Dr. Kenn and Maggie Tulliver from _The Mill on the +Floss_. It will convince my hearers that folk in the forties have a +great and beautiful and sacred ministry to exercise. Maggie was young, +and the perplexities of life were too much for her. Dr. Kenn was +arrested by the expression of anguish in her beautiful eyes. Dr. Kenn +was himself neither young nor old, but middle-aged; and Maggie felt a +childlike, instinctive relief when she saw that it was Dr. Kenn's face +that was looking into hers. 'That plain, middle-aged face, with a +grave, penetrating kindness in it, seeming to tell of a human being who +had reached a firm, safe strand, but was looking with helpful pity +towards the strugglers still tossed by the waves, had an effect on +Maggie at this moment which was afterwards remembered by her as if it +had been a promise.' And then George Eliot makes this trite and +significant remark. 'The middle-aged,' she says, 'who have lived +through their strongest emotions, but are yet in the time when memory +is still half-passionate and not merely contemplative, should surely be +a sort of natural priesthood, whom life has disciplined and consecrated +to be the refuge and rescue of early stumblers and victims of +self-despair. Most of us, at some moment in our young lives, would +have welcomed a priest of that natural order in any sort of canonicals +or uncanonicals, but had to scramble upwards into all the difficulties +of nineteen entirely without such aid.' + +And after hearing that fine story my congregation of folk on the +threshold of the forties will return from the quiet church to the busy +street humming the songs that they sang at nineteen; vowing that, come +what may, the potatoes shall not elbow out all the pansies; and +congratulating themselves that the richest wine in the chalice of life +still waits their thirsty lips. + + + + +X + +A WOMAN'S REASON + +"Will you go with me?" + +'"No, indeed; you must go alone. I shall not appear at all." + +'"Why, mother?" + +'"_Because!_"' + +I came across the above passage near the beginning of one of Myrtle +Reed's stories--_The Master's Violin_--and, towards the end, I found +this: + +'"Iris, I have been miserable ever since I told you I wrote the +letters." + +'"Why, dear?" + +'"_Because!_"' + +And then, in quite another book--Maurice Thompson's _Sweetheart +Manette_--I came upon this: + +'"Why can't you tell me?" asked Rowland Hatch. + +'"I don't know that I have the right," replied Manette. + +'"Why?" + +'"_Because!_"' + +Now, that word '_because_' is very interesting. 'It is a woman's +reason,' Miss Reed confides to us. That may, or may not, be so. I +know nothing about that. It is not my business. I only know that it +is the oldest reason, and the safest reason, and by far the strongest. + +Now, really, no man can say why. As Miss Reed says in another passage +lying midway between the two quoted: 'We all do things for which we can +give no reason.' We do them _because_. No man can say why he prefers +coffee to cocoa, or mutton to beef. He likes the one better than the +other _because_. No man can say why he chose his profession. He +decided to be a doctor or a carpenter _because_. No man can say why he +fell in love with his wife. It would be an affectation to pretend that +she is really incomparably superior to all other women upon the face of +the earth. And yet to him she is not only incomparably superior, and +incomparably lovelier, and incomparably nobler, but she is absolutely +the one and only woman on the planet or off it. No other swims into +the field of vision. She is first, and every other woman is nowhere. +Why? '_Because!_' There is no other reason. + +The fact is that we get into endless confusion when we sail out into +the dark, mysterious seas that lie beyond that 'because.' Nine times +out of ten our conclusions are unassailable. And nine times out of ten +our reasons for reaching those conclusions are absurdly illogical, +totally inadequate, or grossly mistaken. Everybody remembers the fable +of the bantam cock who assured the admiring farmyard that the sun rose +every morning because of its anxiety to hear him crow! The fact was +indisputable; the sun did certainly rise every morning. It was only at +the attempt to ascribe a specific reason for its rising that the +argument broke down. It is always safer to say that the sun rises +every morning _because_. Ministers at least will recall the merriment +that Hugh Latimer made of Master More. The good man had been appointed +to investigate the cause of the Goodwin Sands. He met with small +success in his inquiries. At last he came upon an old man who had +lived in the district nearly a hundred years. The centenarian knew. +The secret sparkled in his eyes. Master More approached the prodigy. +'Yes, sir,' the old man answered, 'I know. Tenterden Steeple is the +cause of Goodwin Sands! I remember when they built the steeple. +Before that we never heard of sands, or flats, or shallows off this +haven. They built the steeple, and then came the sands. Yes, sir, +Tenterden Steeple is the cause of the destruction of Sandwich Harbour!' + +When we wander beyond that wise word 'because' circumstances seem +malicious; they conspire to deceive us. I remember passing a window in +London in which a sewing-machine was displayed. The machine was +working. A large doll sat beside it, its hand on the wheel. The +doll's hand appeared to be turning the handle. As a matter of fact, +the machine was electrically driven, and the wheel turned the hand of +the doll. In the realm of cause and effect we are frequently the dupes +and victims of a very dexterous system of legerdemain. The resultant +quantity is invariably clear; the contributing causes are not what they +seem. + +I find myself believing to-day pretty much what I believed twenty years +ago; but I find myself believing the same things for different reasons. +As life goes on, a man learns to put more and more confidence in his +conclusions, and to become more and more chary of the reasons that led +to those conclusions. If a certain course seems to him to be right, he +automatically adopts it, and he confidently persists in it even after +the reasons that first dictated it have fallen under suspicion. 'More +than once in an emergency at sea,' says Dr. Grenfell, the hero of +Labrador, 'I have swiftly decided upon a certain line of action. If I +had waited to hem my reason into a corner before adopting that course, +I should not be here to tell the tale.' We often flatter ourselves +that we base our conclusions upon our reasons. In reality, we do +nothing of the kind. The mind works so rapidly that it tricks us. It +is another case of legerdemain. Once more, it is the machine that +turns the doll, and not the doll that turns the machine. Our thinking +faculties often play at ride-a-cock-horse. We recall Browning's lines: + + When I see boys ride-a-cock-horse, + I find it in my heart to embarrass them + By hinting that their stick's a mock horse, + And they really carry what they say carries them. + +The rugged truth is, that we first of all reach our conclusions. That +is the starting-point. Then, amazed at our own temerity in doing so, +we hasten to tack on a few reasons as a kind of apology to ourselves +for our own intrepidity, a tardy concession to intellectual decency and +good order. But whether we recognize it or not, we do most things +_because_. As Pascal told us long ago, 'the heart has reasons which +the reason does not know. It is the heart that feels God, not the +reason.' When old Samuel Wesley lay dying in 1735, he turned to his +illustrious son John, saying: 'The inward witness, son, the inward +witness! That is the proof, the strongest proof of Christianity!' 'I +did not at the time understand him,' says John, in quoting the words +with approval long afterwards. But the root of the whole matter lies +just there. + +My reference to Dr. Grenfell reminds me. The good doctor was +questioned the other day as to his faith in immortality. 'I believe in +it,' he replied, 'because I believe in it. I am sure of it, because I +am sure of it.' Precisely! That is the point. We believe _because_. +And then, on our sure faith, we pile up a stupendous avalanche of +Christian evidences. Emerson tells us of two American senators who +spent a quarter of a century searching for conclusive evidence of the +immortality of the soul. And Emerson finishes the story by saying that +the impulse which prompted their long search was itself the strongest +proof that they could have had. Of course! Although they knew it not, +they already believed. They believed _because_. And then, finding +their faith naked, and feeling ashamed, they set out to beg, borrow, or +steal a few rags of reasons with which to deck it. It is the problem +of Professor Teufelsdrockh and _Sartor Resartus_ over again. It all +comes back to Carlyle's 'Everlasting Yea.' The shame is mock modesty; +and the craving is a false one. A woman's reason is the best reason. +As the years go by, we become less and less eager for evidence. We are +content to believe _because_. 'I was lately looking out of my window,' +Martin Luther wrote from Coburg to a friend, 'and I saw the stars in +the heavens, and God's great beautiful arch over my head, but I could +not see any pillars on which the great Builder had fixed this arch; and +yet the heavens fell not, and the great arch stood firmly. There are +some who are always feeling for the pillars, and longing to touch them. +And, because they cannot touch them, they stand trembling, and fearing +lest the heavens should fall. If they could only grasp the pillars, +then the heavens would stand fast.' + +'"But how do you know that there is any Christ? You never saw Him!" +said poor Augustine St. Clare, the slave-owner, to Uncle Tom, the slave. + +'"I feel it in my soul, mas'r--feel Him now! Oh, mas'r, the blessed +Lord Jesus loves you!" + +'"But how do you know that, Tom?" said St. Clare. + +'"I feels it in my soul, mas'r; oh, mas'r, the love of Christ that +passeth knowledge." + +'"But, Tom, you know that I have a great deal more knowledge than you; +what if I should tell you that I don't believe your Bible? Wouldn't +that shake your faith some, Tom?" + +'"Not a grain, mas'r!" And St. Clare felt himself borne, on the tide +of Tom's faith and feeling, almost to the gate of heaven. + +'"I like to hear you, Tom; and some time I'll talk more."' + +Uncle Tom's argument was the strongest and most convincing after all; +if only all we arguers, and debaters, and controversialists could come +to recognize it. He believed _because_. And, now that I come to think +of it, Miss Myrtle Reed is wrong in calling it a woman's reason. It is +a divine argument, the oldest, and sweetest, and strongest of all +divine arguments. I said just now that a man loves a woman just +_because_ he loves her, and he could not in a thousand volumes give an +intelligent and convincing explanation of his preference. And--let me +say it in a hushed and reverent whisper--God loves in much the same +way. Listen, and let me read: 'The Lord did not set His love upon you +because ye were more in number than any people, for ye were the fewest +of all people; but _because_ the Lord loved you!' He loved _because_ +He loved. He loved _because_. + +I intend, therefore, to proclaim the magnificent verities of the +Christian gospel. I shall talk with absolute certainty, and with +unwavering confidence, about the sin of man, the love of God, the Cross +of Christ. If my message is met with a 'why' or a 'wherefore,' I have +only one reply--'_Because!_' There is nothing else to be said. The +preacher lives to tell a wonderful love-story. And a love-story is +never arguable. 'God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten +Son!' Why? _Because!_ + + + + +PART II + + +I + +THE HANDICAP + +I + +It was a sunny autumn afternoon. The leaves were rustling about my +feet, and the first nip of winter was in the air. It was Saturday, and +I was out for a stroll. Suddenly a crowd attracted my attention, and, +impelled by that curiosity which such a concourse invariably excites, I +drew near to see whether it meant a fire or a fight. It was neither. +As I approached I caught sight of young fellows moving in and out among +the people, wearing light many-coloured garments, and I guessed that a +race was about to be run. Almost as soon as I arrived, the men were +called up, arranged in a long line, and preparations made for the +start. At a signal two or three of them sprang out from the line and +bounded with an easy stride along the load. A few seconds later, three +or four more followed; then others; until at last only one was left; +and, after a brief period of further waiting, he also left the line and +set out in pursuit. It was a handicap, I was told, and this man had +started from scratch. It was to be a long race, and it would be some +time before any of the runners could be expected back again. The +crowd, therefore, dispersed for the time being, breaking up into knots +and groups, each of which strolled off to while away the waiting time +as its own taste suggested. I turned into a lane that led up into the +bush on the hillside, and, from that sheltered and sunny eminence, +watched for the first sign of the returning runners. + +Sitting there with nothing to do, it flashed upon me that the scene I +had just witnessed was a reflection, as in a mirror, of all human +experience and endeavour. Most men are heavily handicapped; it is no +good blinking the fact. Ask a man to undertake some office or assume +some responsibility in connexion with the church, and he will silence +you at once with a narration of the difficulties that stand in his way. +Ask a man to act on some board or committee for the management of some +charitable or philanthropic enterprise, and he will explain to you that +he has not a minute to spare. Ask a man to subscribe to some most +necessary or deserving object, and he will tell you of the incessant +demands to which he is subjected. Now it is no good putting all this +down to cant. We have no right to assume that these are merely the +lame excuses of men who, in their secret souls, do not desire to assist +us. We must not hastily hurl at them the curse that fell upon Meroz +because it came not to the help of the Lord against the mighty. All +that they say is perfectly true. The difficulties that debar the first +of these men from undertaking the work to which you are calling him are +both real and formidable; the second man has every moment of his time +fully occupied; the third man, because he is known to be generous, is +badgered to death with collecting-lists from the first thing in the +morning till the last thing at night. We must not judge these men too +harshly. In the uncharitableness of our hearts we imagine that they +have given us excuses which are not reasons. The fact is that they +have done exactly the reverse; they have given us reasons which are not +excuses. We are on safer ground when we recognize frankly that it is +very difficult for many men to devote much time, much energy, and much +money to the kingdom of God. Many men are heavily handicapped. + + +II + +'Isn't that one of the runners just coming in sight now?' a friend +asked, pointing along the road. I fancied that he was right, so we +rose and strolled down to the spot from which the race had started. We +must have been mistaken, for when we emerged from the lane there was no +sign of the competitors, I was not sorry, however, that we had returned +prematurely; for I noticed the handicapper strolling idly about, and +got into conversation with him. + +'There seems to me to be very little sense in a race of this kind,' I +suggested to him. 'If those men win who started first, the honour is +very small in view of the start they received; whilst if the man who +started last fails to win, he feels it to be no disgrace, and comforts +himself with the reflection that he was too heavily handicapped. Is +that not so?' + +'Oh, no,' replied the handicapper, politely concealing his pity for my +simplicity; 'it works out just the other way. It isn't fair, don't you +see, to keep those chaps that got away first always running in a class +by themselves. It does not call out the best that is in them. But +to-day it does them good to feel that they are being matched against +some of the finest runners in the State, and they will strain every +effort to try to beat the champions. And it does a man like Brown, who +started from scratch, no harm to see those fellows all getting ahead of +him at the start. He knows very well that he can beat any man in the +country on level terms, and in such races he will only put forth just +as much effort as is needed to get ahead of his opponent. But there is +nothing to show that he could not do much better still if only his +opponent were more formidable. In a race like this, however, he knows +that anything may happen. His usual rivals have all got a start of +him; if he is to defend his good name, he must beat all his previous +records and bring his utmost power into play. And so every man in the +race is put on his mettle. We consider the handicap a very useful race +indeed!' + +'Perhaps so,' I said, feeling that I was beaten, but feebly attempting +to cover my retreat; 'but how do you compute the exact starts and +handicaps which the different men are to take?' + +'Ah,' he said, 'now you've touched the vital question.' I was +gratified at his recognition of the good order of my retirement. 'You +see,' he went on, 'we have to look up the men's previous performances +and work out the differences in their records with mathematical +exactness. But there is something more than that. We have to know the +men. You can't adjust the handicaps by rule of three. Anybody who has +seen Jones run must have noticed that he's a bit downhearted. He has +been beaten every time, and he goes into a race now expecting to be +beaten, and is therefore beaten before he starts. He needs +encouragement, and we have to consider that fact in arranging his +handicap. Then there's Smith. He's too cocksure. He has never had +any difficulty in beating men of his own class. He needs putting on +his mettle. So we increase his handicap accordingly. It takes a lot +of working out, and a lot of thinking about, I tell you. But here they +come!' + +There was no mistake this time. A batch of runners came into sight all +at once, the officials took their places, and the crowd clustered +excitedly round. As we waited, the remarks to which I had just +listened took powerful hold upon my mind. The handicaps of life may +have been more carefully calculated and more beneficently designed than +we have sometimes been inclined to suppose. + + +III + +It was a fine finish. As the first batch of men drew nearer I was +pleased to notice that Brown, the fellow in light blue, who had started +last, was among them. Gradually he drew out from the rest, and, with a +magnificent spurt, asserted his superiority and won the race. A few +minutes later I took the tram citywards. Just as it was starting, +Brown also entered the car. I could not resist the opportunity of +congratulating him. + +'It must have taken the heart out of you,' I said, 'to see all the +other fellows getting away in front of you, and to find yourself left +to the last?' + +'Oh, no,' he replied, with a laugh, 'it's a bit of an honour, isn't it, +to see that they think me so much better than everybody else that they +fancy I have a sporting chance under such conditions? And, besides, it +spurs a fellow to do his best. When you are accustomed to winning +races, it doesn't feel nice to be beaten, even in a handicap, and to +avoid being beaten you've got to go for all you're worth.' + +I shook hands and left him. But I felt that he had given me something +else to think about. + +'It's a bit of an honour!' he had said. 'And, besides, it spurs a +fellow to do his best!' + +The next time a man tells me that he cannot help me because he is so +heavily handicapped, what a tale I shall have to tell him! + + +IV + +My Saturday afternoon experience has convinced me that, in the Church, +we have tragically misinterpreted the significance of handicaps. + +'I am very heavily handicapped,' we say in the Church, 'therefore I +must not attempt this thing!' + +'I am very heavily handicapped,' they say out there at their sports, +'therefore I must put all my strength into it!' + +And who can doubt that the philosophy of the Churchmen is false, or +that the philosophy of the sportsmen is sound? There is a great saying +of Bacon's that every handicapped man should learn by heart. +'Whosoever,' he says, 'hath anything fixed in his person that doth +induce contempt hath also a perpetual spur in himself to rescue and +deliver himself from scorn.' Is that why so many of the world's +greatest benefactors were men who bore in their bodies the marks of +physical affliction--blindness, deafness, disease, and the like? They +felt that they were heavily handicapped, and that their handicap called +them to make a supreme effort 'to rescue and deliver themselves from +scorn.' + +When speaking of the difficulty which a black boy experiences in +America in competing with his white rivals, Booker Washington tells us +that his own pathetic and desperate struggle taught him that 'success +is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in +life as by the obstacles which he has overcome while trying to +succeed.' There is a good deal in that. I was once present at a +meeting of a certain Borough Council, at which an engineer had to +report on a certain proposal which the municipal authorities were +discussing. The engineer contented himself with remarking that there +were serious difficulties in the way of the execution of the plan. +Whereupon the Mayor turned upon the unfortunate engineer and remarked, +'We pay you your salary, Mr. Engineer, not to tell us that difficulties +exist, but to show us how to surmount them!' I thought it rather a +severe rebuke at the time, but very often since, when I have been +tempted to allow my handicaps to divert me from my duty, I have been +glad that I heard the poor engineer censured. + +I was once deeply and permanently impressed by a chairman's speech at a +meeting in Exeter Hall. That noble old auditorium was crowded from +floor to ceiling for the annual missionary demonstration of the +Wesleyan Methodist Church. The chair was occupied by Mr. W. E. Knight, +of Newark. In the course of a most earnest plea for missionary +enthusiasm, Mr. Knight suddenly became personal. 'I was born in a +missionary atmosphere,' he said. 'I have lived in it ever since; I +hope I shall die in it. Over forty years ago my heart was touched with +the story of the world's needs; when I heard such men as Gervase Smith, +Dr. Punshon, Richard Roberts, G. T. Perks, and others, I said, "Lord, +here am I, send me." I came up to London forty-one years ago as a +candidate for the Methodist ministry. I offered myself, but the Church +did not see fit to accept my offer. I remember well coming up to the +college at Westminster and being told of the decision of the committee +by that sainted man, William Jackson. I went to the little room in +which I had slept with a broken heart. I despised myself. I was +rejected of men, and I felt that I was forsaken of God.' Now here is a +man heavily handicapped; but let him finish his story. 'In that moment +of darkness,' Mr. Knight continued, 'the deepest darkness of my life, +there came to me a voice which has influenced my life from then till +now. It said. "If you cannot go yourself, send some one else." I was +a poor boy then; I knew that I could not pay for anybody else to go. +But time rolled on. I prospered in business. And to-night I shall lay +on the altar a sum which I wish the committee to invest, and the +interest on that sum will support a missionary in Africa, not during my +lifetime only, but as long as capital is capable of earning interest. +And, ladies and gentlemen, I assure you that this is a red-letter day +in my life!' + +Of course it was! It was the day on which he had turned his handicap +to that account for which all handicaps were intended. + +'My handicap was an honour and a spur!' said the champion in the +tramcar. + +'My handicap was an honour and a spur!' said the chairman at Exeter +Hall. + +Both the champion and the chairman did by means of their handicaps what +they could never have done without those handicaps. There can be no +doubt about it; handicaps were designed, not as the pitiful excuses of +the indolent, but as the magnificent inspirations of the brave. + + + + +II + +GOG AND MAGOG + +Gog and Magog, let it be dearly understood, are the two tall +poplar-trees that keep ceaseless vigil by my gate. I state this fact +baldly and unequivocally at the very outset in order to set at rest, +once and for ever, all controversies and disputations on that +fascinating point. Historians will reach down the ponderous and dusty +tomes that litter up their formidable shelves, and will tell me that +Gog and Magog were two famous British giants whose life-sized statues, +fourteen feet high, have stood for more than two hundred years in the +Guildhall in London. But that is all that the historians know about +it! Theologians, and especially theologians of a certain school, will +remind me that Gog and Magog are biblical characters. Are they not +mentioned in the prophecy of Ezekiel and in the Book of Revelation? +And then, looking gravely over their spectacles, these learned-looking +gentlemen will ask me if I am seriously of opinion that the inspired +writers were referring to my pair of lofty poplars. I hasten to assure +these nervous and unimaginative gentlemen that I propose to commit +myself to no such heresy. Like Mrs. Gamp, I would not presume. For +ages past these cryptic titles have provided my excellent friends with +ground for interminable speculation, and for the most ingenious +exploits of interpretation. How could I have the heart to exclusively +allocate to these stately sentinels that guard my gate the titles that +have afforded the interpreters such endless pleasure? I would as soon +attempt to snatch from a boy his only peg-top, or from a girl her only +doll, as embark upon so barbarous an atrocity. How could they ever +again declare, with the faintest scrap of confidence, that Gog and +Magog represented any particular pair of princes or potentates if I +deliberately anticipate them by walking off with both labels and coolly +attaching them to my two poplar-trees? The thing is absurd upon the +face of it. And so I repeat that for the purposes of this article, and +for the purposes of this article only, Gog and Magog are the two tall +poplar-trees that keep ceaseless vigil by my gate. + +Trees are very lovable things. We all like Beaconsfield the better +because he was so passionately devoted to the trees at Hughenden. He +was so fond of them that he directed in his will that none of them +should ever be cut down. So I am not ashamed of my tenderness for Gog +and Magog. There they stand, down at the gate; the one on the one +side, and the other on the other. Huge giants they are, with a giant's +strength and a giant's stature, but with more than a giant's grace. +From whichever direction I come, they always seem to salute me with a +welcome as soon as I come round the bend in the road. It is always +pleasant when home has something about it that can be seen at a +distance. The last half-mile on the homeward road is the half-mile in +which the climax of weariness is reached. It is like the last straw +that breaks the camel's back. But if there is a light at the window, +or some clear landmark that distinguishes the spot, the very sight of +the familiar object lures the traveller on, and in actual sight of home +he forgets his fatigue. + +It is a very pleasant thing to have two glorious poplars at your gate. +They always seem to be craning, straining, towering upward to catch the +first glimpse of you; and they make home seem nearer as soon as you +come within sight of them. Gog and Magog are such companionable +things. They always have something to say to you. It is true that +they talk of little but the weather; but then, that is what most people +talk about. I like to see them in August, when a certain olive sheen +mantles their branches and tells you that the swallows will soon be +here. I like to see them in October, when they are a towering column +of verdure, every leaf as bright as though it has just been varnished. +I even like to see them in April, when they strew the paths with a +rustling litter of bronze and gold. They tell me that winter is +coming, with its long evenings, its roaring fires, and its insistence +on the superlative attractions of home. There never dawns a day on +which Gog and Magog are not well worth looking at and well worth +listening to. + +But although I have been speaking of Gog and Magog as though they were +as much alike as two peas, the very reverse is the case. No two +things--not even the two peas--are exactly alike. When God makes a +thing He breaks the mould. The two peas do not resemble each other +under a microscope. Macaulay, in his essay on Madame D'Arblay, +declares that this extraordinary range of distinctions within very +narrow limits is one of the most notable things in the universe. 'No +two faces are alike,' he says, 'and yet very few faces deviate very +widely from the common standard. Among the millions of human beings +who inhabit London, there is not one who could be taken by his +acquaintance for another; yet we may walk from Paddington to Mile End +without seeing one person in whom any feature is so overcharged that we +turn round to stare at it. An infinite number of varieties lies +between limits which are not very far asunder. The specimens which +pass those limits on either side form a very small minority.' + +So is it with trees. When you first drive up an avenue of poplars you +regard each tree as the exact duplicate of all the others. There is +certainly a general similarity, just as, in some households, there is a +striking family likeness. But just as, after spending a few days with +that household, you no longer mistake Jack for Charlie, or Jessie for +Jean, and even laugh at yourself for ever having been so stupid, so, +when you get to know the poplars better, you no longer suppose that +they are all alike. You soon detect the marks of individuality among +them; and, if one were felled and brought you, you could describe with +perfect accuracy the two trees between which it stood. That is +particularly the case with Gog and Magog. A casual visitor would +remark, as he approached the house, that we had a pair of gigantic +poplars at the front gate. It does not occur to him to distinguish +between them. For aught he knows, or for aught he cares, Gog might be +Magog, or Magog might be Gog. But to us the thing is absurd. We know +them so well that we should as soon think of mistaking one of the +children for another as of mistaking Gog for Magog, or Magog for Gog. +We salute the tall trees every morning when we rise; we pass them with +mystic greetings of our own a dozen times a day; and, before retiring +at night, we like to peep from the front windows and see their gigantic +forms grandly silhouetted against the evening sky. Gog is Gog, and +Magog is Magog; and the idea of mistaking the one for the other seems +ludicrous in the extreme. The solar system is as full of mysteries as +a conjurer's portmanteaux; but, of all the mysteries that it contains, +the mystery of individuality is surely the most inscrutable of all. + +'What is the difference between Gog and Magog?' somebody wants to know; +and I am glad that somebody asked the question, for it gives me the +opportunity of pointing out that between Gog and Magog there is all the +difference in the world. There is a difference in girth; there is a +difference in height; and there is a difference in fibre. I have just +run a tape round both trees. Magog gives a measurement of just six +feet; whilst Gog puts those puny proportions to shame with a record of +seven feet six inches. I have not attempted to climb the trees; but I +can see at a glance that Gog is at least eight feet taller than his +brother. Nor do these measurements sum up the whole of Gog's +advantage. For you cannot glance at the twins without seeing that Gog +is incalculably the sturdier. In the trunk of Magog there is a huge +cavity into which a child could creep and be perfectly concealed; but +Gog is as sound as a bell. Any one who has seen two brothers grow up +side by side--the one sturdy, masculine, virile, and full of health; +the other, puny, delicate, fragile, and threatened with disease--knows +how I feel whenever I pass between these two sentries at the gate. I +am full of admiration for the glorious strength of Gog; I am touched to +tenderness by the comparative frailty of poor Magog. It is odd that +two trees of the same age, growing together under precisely identical +conditions, should have turned out so differently. There must be a +reason for it. Is there? There is! + +The fact is, Gog gets all the wind. I have often watched the storm +come sweeping down on the two tall trees, and it is grand to watch +them. The huge things sway and bend like tossing plumes, and sometimes +you almost fancy that they will break like reeds before the fury of the +blast. Great branches are torn off; smaller boughs and piles of twigs +are scattered all around like wounded soldiers on a hotly contested +field; but the trees outlive the storm, and you love them all the +better for it. But, all the time, you can see that it is Gog that is +doing the fighting. The fearful onslaught breaks first upon him; and +the force of the attack is broken by the time it reaches Magog. It may +be that Gog is very fond of Magog, and, pitying his frailty, seeks to +shelter him. It certainly looks like it. But, if so, it is a mistaken +kindness. It is just because Gog has had to bear the brunt of so many +attacks that he has sent down his roots so deeply and has become so +magnificently strong. It is because Magog has always been protected +and sheltered that he is so feeble, and cuts so sorry a figure beside +his stouter brother. + +And now I find myself sitting at the feet of Gog and Magog, not only +literally but metaphorically, and they begin to teach me things. It is +not half a bad thing to be living in a world that has some fight in it. +It is a good thing for a man to be buffeted and knocked about. I fancy +that Gog and Magog could say some specially comforting things to +parents. The tendency among us is to try to secure for our children +the kind of life that Magog leads, hidden, sheltered, and protected. +Yet nobody can take a second glance at poor Magog--his shorter stature, +his smaller girth, his softer fibre--without entertaining the gravest +doubts concerning the wisdom of so apparently considerate a choice. It +is perfectly natural, and altogether creditable to the fond hearts and +earnest solicitude of doting parents, that they should seek to rear +their children like hot-house plants, protected from the nipping frosts +and frigid blasts of a chilling world. But it can be overdone. A +great meeting, attended by five thousand people, was recently held in +London to deal with the White Slave question. And I was greatly struck +by the fact that one of the most experienced and observant of the +speakers--the Rev. J. Ernest Rattenbury, of the West London +Mission--declared with deep emotion and impressive emphasis that 'it is +the girls who come from _the sheltered homes_ who stand in the greatest +peril.' Perhaps I shall render the most practical service if I put the +truth the other way. Instead of dwelling so much on Magog, look at +Gog. I know fathers and mothers who are inclined to break their hearts +because their boys and girls have had to go out from the shielding care +of their homes into the rough and tumble of the great world. Look at +Gog, I say again, look at Gog! + +Was it not Alfred Russel Wallace who tried to help an emperor-moth, and +only harmed it by his ill-considered ministry? He came upon the +creature beating its wings and struggling wildly to force its passage +through the narrow neck of its cocoon. He admired its fine +proportions, eight inches from the tip of one wing to the tip of the +other, and thought it a pity that so handsome a creature should be +subjected to so severe an ordeal. He therefore took out his lancet and +slit the cocoon. The moth came out at once; but its glorious colours +never developed. The soaring wings never expanded. The indescribable +hues and tints and shades that should have adorned them never appeared. +The moth crept moodily about; drooped perceptibly; and presently died. +The furious struggle with the cocoon was Nature's wise way of +developing the splendid wings and of sending the vital fluids pulsing +through the frame until every particle blushed with their beauty. The +naturalist had saved the little creature from the struggle, but had +unintentionally ruined and slain it in the process. It is the story of +Gog and Magog over again. + +In my college days I used to go down to a quaint little English village +for the week-end in order to conduct services in the village chapel on +Sunday. I was always entertained by a little old lady whose face +haunts me still. It was so very human, and so very wise, and withal so +very beautiful; and the white ringlets on either side completed a +perfect picture. She dwelt in a modest little cottage on top of the +hill. It was a queer, tumble-down old place with crooked rafters and +crazy lattice windows. Roses and honeysuckle clambered all over the +porch, straggled along the walls, and even crept under the eaves into +the cottage itself. The thing that impressed me when I first went was +the extraordinary number of old Bessie's visitors. On Saturday nights +they came one after another, young men and sedate matrons, old men and +tripping maidens, and each desired to see her alone. She was very old; +she had known hunger and poverty; the deeply furrowed brow told of long +and bitter trouble. She was a great sufferer, too, and daily wrestled +with her pitiless disease. But, like the sturdier of the poplars by my +gate, she had gathered into herself the force of all the cruel winds +that had beaten so savagely upon her. And the result was that her own +character had become so strong and so upright and so beautiful that she +was recognized as the high-priestess of that English countryside, and +every man and maiden who needed counsel or succour made a beaten path +to her open door. + + + + +III + +MY WARDROBE + +Changing your mind is for all the world like changing your clothes. +You may easily make a mistake, especially if the process is performed +in the dark. And, as a matter of fact, a man is usually more or less +in the dark at the moment in which he changes his mind. An +absent-minded friend of mine went upstairs the other day to prepare for +a social function. To the consternation of his unhappy wife he came +down again wearing his old gardening suit. A man may quite easily make +a mistake. Before he enters upon the process of robing he must be sure +of three things: (1) He must be quite clear that the clothes he +proposes to doff are unsuitable. (2) He must be sure that his wardrobe +contains more appropriate apparel. (3) And he must be certain that the +folded garments that he takes from the drawer are actually those that +he made up his mind to wear. It is a good thing, similarly, to change +one's mind. But the thing must be done very deliberately, and even +with scientific precision, or a man may make himself perfectly +ridiculous. Let me produce a pair of illustrations, one from Boswell, +which is good; and one from the Bible, which is better. + +(1) Dr. Samuel Johnson was a frequent visitor at the house of Mr. +Richardson, the famous novelist. One day, whilst Johnson was there, +Hogarth called. Hogarth soon started a discussion with Mr. Richardson +as to the justice of the execution of Dr. Cameron. 'While he was +talking, he perceived a person standing at a window in the room, +shaking his head, and rolling himself about in a strange, ridiculous +manner. He concluded that he was _an idiot_, whom his relations had +put under the care of Mr. Richardson, as being a very good man. To his +great surprise, however, this figure stalked forwards to where he and +Mr. Richardson were sitting, and all at once took up the argument. He +displayed such a power of eloquence that Hogarth looked at him with +astonishment, and actually imagined that he was _inspired_.' Thus far +Boswell. + +(2) Paul was shipwrecked, as everybody knows, at Malta. He was +gathering sticks for the fire, when a viper, thawed by the warm flesh +and the fierce flame, fastened on his finger. When the natives saw the +snake hanging on his hand, they regarded it as a judgement, and said +that no doubt he was a _murderer_. But when they saw that he was none +the worse for the bite, 'they changed their minds, and said that he was +_a god_!' + +Hogarth thought Johnson was a _lunatic_. He changed his mind, and said +he was _inspired_! + +The Maltese thought Paul was a _murderer_. They changed their minds, +and said he was a _god_! + +They were all wrong, and always wrong. It is the case of my poor +absent-minded friend over again. It was quite clear that his clothes +wanted changing, but he put on the wrong suit. It was evident that +Hogarth's verdict on Johnson wanted revising, but he rushed from Scylla +to Charybdis. It was manifest that the Maltese view of Paul needed +correcting, but they swung, like a pendulum, from one ludicrous extreme +to the opposite. In each case, the hero reappears, wearing the wrong +clothes. In each case he only makes himself ridiculous. If my mind +wants changing, I must be very cautious as to the way in which I do it. + +And, of course, a man _must_ sometimes change both his clothes and his +mind--his _mind_ at any rate. How can you go to a conjuring +entertainment, for example, without changing your mind a hundred times +in the course of the performance? For a second you think that the +vanished billiard ball is _here_. Then, in a trice, you change your +mind, and conclude that it is _there_! First, you believe that, +appearances notwithstanding, the magician really has _no_ hat in his +hand. Then, in a flash, you change your mind, and you fancy he has +_two_! You think for a moment that the clever trick is done in _this_ +way, and then you become certain that it is done in _that_! I once +witnessed in London a very clever artist, who walked up and down the +stage, passing midway behind a screen. And as he reappeared on the +other side, after having been hidden from sight for only a fraction of +a second, he was differently dressed. He stepped behind the screen a +soldier, and emerged a policeman. He disappeared a huntsman, he +reappeared a clergyman. He went a convict, he came again a sailor. He +wore a score of uniforms in almost as many seconds. + +I began by saying that changing your mind is for all the world like +changing your clothes. It is less tedious, however. I have no idea +how my London friend managed to change his garments many times in a +minute. But many a magician has made me change my mind at a lightning +pace. Yes, many a magician. For the universe is, after all, a kind of +magic. The wand of the wizard is at its wonderful work. It is the +highest type of legerdemain. It is very weird and very wonderful, a +thing of marvel and of mystery. No man can sit down and gaze for five +minutes with wide open eyes upon God's worlds without changing his mind +at least five times. The man who never changes his mind will soon +discover to his shame that he is draped in intellectual rags and +tatters. + +I rather think that Macaulay's illustration is as good as any. 'A +traveller,' he says in his essay on Sir James Mackintosh, 'falls in +with a berry which he has never before seen. He tastes it, and finds +it sweet and refreshing. He presses it, and resolves to introduce it +into his own country. But in a few minutes he is taken violently sick; +he is convulsed; he is at the point of death. He, of course, changes +his mind, pronounces this delicious food a poison, blames his own folly +in tasting it, and cautions his friends against it. After a long and +violent struggle he recovers, and finds himself much exhausted by his +sufferings, but free from chronic complaints which had been the torment +of his life. He then changes his mind again, and pronounces this fruit +a very powerful remedy, which ought to be employed only in extreme +cases, and with great caution, but which ought not to be absolutely +excluded from the Pharmacopoeia. Would it not be the height of +absurdity to call such a man fickle and inconsistent because he had +repeatedly altered his judgement?' Of course it would. A man cannot +go all through life wearing the same suit of clothes. For two reasons. +It will not always fit, and it will wear out. And, in precisely the +same way, and for identically similar reasons, a man must sometimes +change his opinions. It is refreshing to think of Augustine carefully +compiling a list of the mistakes that had crept into his writings, so +that he might take every opportunity of repudiating and correcting +them. I never consult my copies of Archbishop Trench's great works on +_The Parables_ and _The Miracles_ without glancing, always with a glow +of admiration, at that splendid sentence with which the 'Publisher's +Note' concludes: 'The author never allowed his books to be stereotyped, +in order that he might constantly improve them, and permanence has only +become possible now that his diligent hand can touch the work no more.' +That always strikes me as being very fine. + +But the thing must be done methodically. Let me not rush upstairs and +change either my clothes or my mind for the mere sake of making a +change. Nor must I tumble into the first suit that I happen to +find--in either wardrobe. When I reappear, the change must commend +itself to the respect, if not the admiration, of my fellows. I do not +want men to laugh at my change as we have laughed at these Maltese +natives, at old Hogarth, and at my absent-minded friend. I want to be +quite sure that the clothes that I doff are the wrong clothes, and that +the clothes that I don are the right ones. + +Mr. Gladstone once thought out very thoroughly this whole question as +to how frequently and how radically a man may change his mental outfit +without forfeiting the confidence of those who have come to value his +judgements. And, as a result of that hard thinking, the great man +reached half a dozen very clear and very concise conclusions. (1) He +concluded that a change of front is very often not only permissible but +creditable. 'A change of mind,' he says, 'is a sign of life. If you +are alive, you must change. It is only the dead who remain the same. +I have changed my point of view on a score of subjects, and my +convictions as to many of them.' (2) He concluded that a great change, +involving a drastic social cleavage, not unlike a change in religion, +should certainly occur not more than once in a lifetime. (3) He +concluded that a great and cataclysmic change should never be sudden or +precipitate. (4) He concluded that no change ought to be characterized +by a contemptuous repudiation of old memories and old associations. +(5) He concluded that no change ought to be regarded as final or worthy +of implicit confidence if it involved the convert in temporal gain or +worldly advantage. (6) And he concluded that any change, to command +respect, must be frankly confessed, and not be hooded, slurred over, or +denied. + +All this is good, as far as it goes. But even Mr. Gladstone must not +be too hard on sudden and cataclysmic changes. What about Saul on the +road to Damascus? What about Augustine that morning in his garden? +What about Brother Laurence and the dry tree? What about Stephen +Grellet in the American forest? What about Luther on Pilate's +staircase? What about Bunyan and Newton, Wesley and Spurgeon? What +about the tales that Harold Begbie tells? And what about the work of +General Booth? Professor James, in his _Varieties of Religious +Experience_, has a good deal to say that would lead Mr. Gladstone to +yet one more change of mind concerning the startling suddenness with +which the greatest of all changes may be precipitated. + +And this, too, must be said. Every wise man has, locked away in his +heart, a few treasures that he will never either give or sell or +exchange. It is a mistake to suppose that all our opinions are open to +revision. They are not. There are some things too sacred to be always +open to scrutiny and investigation. No self-respecting man will spend +his time inquiring as to his wife's probity and honour. He makes up +his mind as to that when he marries her; and henceforth that question +is settled. It is not open to review. He would feel insulted if an +investigation were suggested. It is only the small things of life that +we are eternally questioning. We are reverently restful and serenely +silent about the biggest things of all. A man does not discuss his +wife's virtue or his soul's salvation on the kerbstone. The martyrs +all went to their deaths with brave hearts and morning faces, because +they were not prepared to reconsider or review the greatest decision +they had ever made. There are some things on which no wise man will +think of changing his mind. And he will decline to contemplate a +change because he knows that his wardrobe holds no better garb. It is +of no use doffing the robes of princes to don the rags of paupers. +'Eighty and six years have I served Christ,' exclaimed the triumphant +Polycarp; and he mounted the heavens in wreathing smoke and leaping +flame rather than change his mind after so long and so lovely an +experience. + + + + +IV + +'PITY MY SIMPLICITY!' + +It was a sultry summer's day a hundred and fifty years ago, and John +Wesley was on the rocky road to Dublin. 'The wind being in my face, +tempering the heat of the sun, I had a pleasant ride to Dublin. In the +evening I began expounding the deepest part of the Holy Scripture, +namely, the First Epistle of John, by which, above all other, even +above all other inspired writings, I advise every young preacher to +form his style. Here are sublimity and simplicity together, the +strongest sense and the plainest language! How can any one that would +speak as the oracles of God use harder words than are to be found +here?' With which illuminating extract from the great man's journal we +may dismiss him, the road to Dublin, and the text from which he +preached in the Irish capital, all together. I have no further +business with any of them. The thing that concerns me is the +suggestive declaration, made by the most experienced preacher of all +time, that _sublimity_ and _simplicity_ always go hand in hand. Here, +in this deepest part of Holy Scripture, says the master, are sublimity +and simplicity together. 'By this, above all other writings, I advise +every preacher to form his style. How can any one that would speak as +the oracles of God use harder words than are to be found here?' Such +words from such a source are like apples of gold in pictures of silver, +and I am thankful that I chanced to come upon the great man that hot +July night in Dublin, and gather this distilled essence of wisdom as it +fell from his eloquent lips. + +I have often wondered why we teach children to pray that their +simplicity may be pitied. + + Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, + Look upon a little child! + Pity my simplicity! + Suffer me to come to Thee! + +Why 'pity my simplicity'? It is the one thing about a little child +that is really sublime, sublimity and simplicity being, as we learned +at Dublin, everlastingly inseparable. Pity my simplicity! Why, it is +the sweet simplicity of a little child that we all admire and love and +covet! Pity my simplicity! Why, it is the unspoiled and sublime +simplicity of this little child of mine that takes my heart by storm +and carries everything before it. And, depend upon it, the heart of +the divine Father is affected not very differently. This soft, sweet +little white-robed thing that kneels on my knee, with its arms around +my neck, lisping its + + Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, + Look upon a little child! + Pity my simplicity! + Suffer me to come to Thee! + +shames me by its very sublimity. It outstrips me, transcends me, and +leaves me far behind. It soars whilst I grovel; it flies whilst I +creep. That is what Jesus meant when He took a little child and set +him in the midst of the disciples and said, 'Whosoever shall humble +himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of +heaven!' The simplest, He meant, is always the sublimest. And it was +because the great Methodist had so perfectly caught the spirit of his +great Master that he declared so confidently that night at Dublin, +'Simplicity and sublimity lie here together!' + +It is always and everywhere the same. In literature sublimity is +represented by the poet. What could be more sublime than the inspired +imagination of Milton? And yet, and yet! The very greatest of all our +literary critics, in his essay on Milton, feels it incumbent upon him +to point out that imagination is essentially the domain of childhood. +'Of all people,' he says, 'children are the most imaginative. They +abandon themselves without reserve to every illusion. Every image +which is strongly presented to their mental eye produces on them the +effect of reality. No man, whatever his sensibility may be, is ever +affected by Hamlet or Lear as a little girl is affected by the story of +poor Red Ridinghood. She knows that it is all false, that wolves +cannot speak, that there are no wolves in England. Yet, in spite of +the knowledge, she believes; she weeps; she trembles; she dares not go +into a dark room lest she should feel the teeth of the monster at her +throat.' And from these premisses, Macaulay proceeds to his inevitable +conclusion. 'He who, in an enlightened and literary society, aspires +to be a great poet must,' he says, 'first become a little child. He +must take to pieces the whole web of his mind. He must unlearn much of +that knowledge which has perhaps constituted hitherto his chief title +to superiority. His very talents will be a hindrance to him. His +difficulties will be proportioned to his proficiency in the pursuits +which are fashionable among his contemporaries; and that proficiency +will in general be proportioned to the vigour and activity of his +mind.' Could there be any finer comment on the words of the Master? + +'Simplicity and sublimity always go together!' said John Wesley that +hot July night at Dublin. + +'Whosoever shall humble himself as this little child, the same is the +greatest in the kingdom of heaven!' said the Master on that memorable +day in Galilee. + +'He who aspires to be a great poet must first become a little child!' +says Lord Macaulay in his incomparable essay on Milton. + +I have carefully put the Master in His old place. He is _in the +midst_, with the very greatest of our modern apostles on the one side +of Him, and the very greatest of our modern historians on the other. +But they are all three of them saying the same thing, each in his own +way. It is a pity that we teach our children that the sublimest thing +about them--their simplicity--is a thing of which they need to be +ashamed. And the way in which their tiny tongues stumble over the +great word seems to show that, following a true instinct, they do not +take kindly to that clause in their bedtime prayer. + +I am told that, away beyond the Never-Never ranges, there is a church +from which the children are excluded before the sermon begins. I wish +my informant had not told me of its existence. I am not often troubled +with nightmare, my supper being quite a frugal affair. But just +occasionally I find myself a victim of the terror by night. And when I +am mercifully awakened, and asked why I am gasping so horribly and +perspiring so freely, I have to confess that I was dreaming that I had +somehow become the minister of that childless congregation. As is +usual after nightmare, I look round with a sense of inexpressible +thankfulness on discovering that it was only a horrid dream. An +appointment to such a charge would be to me a most fearsome and +terrifying prospect. I could not trust myself. In a way, I envy the +man who can hold his own under such circumstances. His transcendent +powers enable him to preserve his sturdy humanness of character, his +charming simplicity of diction, his graphic picturesqueness of phrase, +and his exquisite winsomeness of behaviour without the extraneous +assistance which the children render to some of us. But _I_ could not +do it. I should go all to pieces. And so, when I dream that I have +entered a pulpit from which I can survey no roguish young faces and +mischievous wide-open eyes, I fancy I am ruined and undone. I watch +with consternation as the little people file out during the hymn before +the sermon, and I know that the sermon is doomed. The children in the +congregation are my salvation. + +I fancy that the custom to which I have referred was in vogue in the +church to which the Rev. Bruno Leathwaite Chilvers ministered. +Everybody knows Mr. Chilvers; at least everybody who loves George +Gissing knows that very excellent gentleman. Mr. Chilvers loved to +adorn his dainty discourses with certain words of strangely +grandiloquent sound. '"Nullifidian," "morbific," "renascent"--these +were among his favourites. Once or twice he spoke of "psychogenesis" +with an emphatic enunciation which seemed to invite respectful wonder. +In using Latin words which have become fixed in the English language, +he generally corrected the common errors of quantity and pronounced +words as nobody else did. He often alluded to French and German +authors in order that he might recite French and German quotations.' +And so on. Poor Mr. Chilvers! I am sure that the little children +filed out during the hymn before the sermon. No man with a scrap of +imagination could look into the dimpled face of a little girl I know +and hurl 'nullifidian' at her. No man could look down into a certain +pair of sparkling eyes that are wonderfully familiar to me and talk +about things as 'morbific' or 'renascent.' If only the little tots had +kept their seats for the sermon, it would have saved poor Mr. Chilvers +from committing such atrocities. As it is, they went and he collapsed. +Can anybody imagine John Wesley talking to his summer-evening crowd at +Dublin about 'nullifidian,' or quoting German? I will say nothing of +the Galilean preacher. The common people heard _Him_ gladly. He was +so simple and therefore so sublime. As Sir Edwin Arnold says: + + The simplest sights He met-- + The Sower flinging seed on loam and rock; + The darnel in the wheat; the mustard-tree + That hath its seeds so little, and its boughs + Widespreading; and the wandering sheep; and nets + Shot in the wimpled waters--drawing forth + Great fish and small--these, and a hundred such, + Seen by us daily, never seen aright, + Were pictures for Him from the page of life, + Teaching by parable. + +Therein lay the sublimity of it all. + +A little child, especially a little child of a distinctly restless and +mischievous propensity, is really a great help to a minister, and it is +a shame to deprive the good man of such assistance. It is only by such +help that some of us can hope to approximate to real sublimity. Lord +Beaconsfield used to say that, in making after-dinner speeches, he kept +his eye on the waiters. If they were unmoved, he knew that he was in +the realms of mediocrity. But when they grew excited and waved their +napkins, he knew that he was getting home. Lord Cockburn, who was for +some time Lord Chief Justice of Great Britain, when asked for the +secret of his extraordinary success at the bar, replied sagely, 'When I +was addressing a jury, I invariably picked out the stupidest-looking +fellow of the lot, and addressed myself specially to him--for this good +reason: I knew that if I convinced him I should be sure to carry all +the rest!' Dr. Thomas Guthrie, in addressing gatherings of ministers, +used to tell this story of Lord Cockburn with immense relish, and +earnestly commended its philosophy to their consideration. I was +reading the other day that Dr. Boyd Carpenter, formerly Bishop of Ripon +and now Canon of Westminster, on being asked if he felt nervous when +preaching before Queen Victoria, replied, 'I never address the Queen at +all. I know there will be present the Queen, the Princes, the +household, and the servants down to the scullery-maid, and _I preach to +the scullery-maid_.' Little children do not attend political dinners +such as Lord Beaconsfield adorned; nor Courts of Justice such as Lord +Cockburn addressed; nor Royal chapels like that in which Dr. Boyd +Carpenter officiated. And, in the absence of the children, the only +chance of reaching sublimity that offered itself to these unhappy +orators lay in making good use of the waiter, the stupid juryman, and +the scullery-maid. If the Rev. Bruno Leathwaite Chilvers really cannot +induce the children to abandon the bad habit in which they have been +trained, I urge him, as a friend and a brother, to adopt the same +ingenious expedient. But if he can get on the right side of a little +child, persuade him to sit the sermon out, and vow that he will look +straight into that bright little face, and say no word that will not +interest that tiny listener, I promise him that before long people will +say that his sermons are simply sublime. Robert Louis Stevenson knew +what he was doing when he discussed every sentence of _Treasure Island_ +with his schoolboy step-son before giving it its final form. It was by +that wise artifice that one of the greatest stories in our language +came to be written. + +The fact, of course, is that in the soul's sublimest moments it hungers +for simplicity. One of Du Maurier's great _Punch_ cartoons represented +a honeymoon conversation between a husband and wife who had both +covered themselves with glory at Cambridge. And the conversation ran +along these highly intellectual lines: + +'What would Lovey do if Dovey died?' + +'Oh, Lovey would die too!' + +There is a world of philosophy behind the nonsense. We do not make +love in the language of the psychologist; we make love in the language +of the little child. When life approaches to sublimity, it always +expresses itself with simplicity. In the depth of mortal anguish, or +at the climax of human joy, we do not use a grandiloquent and +incomprehensible phraseology. We talk in monosyllables. As we grow +old, and draw near to the gates of the grave, we become more and more +simple. In his declining years, John Newton wrote, 'When I was young I +was sure of many things. There are only two things of which I am sure +now; one is that I am a miserable sinner, and the other that Christ is +an all-sufficient Saviour.' What is this but the soul garbing itself +in the most perfect simplicities as the only fitting raiment in which +it can greet the everlasting sublimities? + +'Here are sublimity and simplicity together!' exclaimed John Wesley on +that hot July night at Dublin. 'How can any one that would speak as +the oracles of God use harder words than are to be found here? By this +I advise every young preacher to form his style!' + +'He who aspires to be a great poet--as sublime as Milton--must first +become a little child!' declares the greatest of all litterateurs. + +'Whosoever shall humble himself as this little child, the same is +greatest in the kingdom of heaven!' says the Master Himself, taking a +little child and setting him in the midst of them. + +'_Pity my simplicity!_' pleads this little thing with its soft arms +round my neck. + +'_Give me that simplicity!_' say I. + + + + +V + +TUNING FROM THE BASS + +I am about to say a good word for Fear. Fear is a fine thing, a very +fine thing; and the world would be a poor place without it. Fear was +one of our firmest but gentlest nurses. Terror was one of our sternest +but kindest teachers. A very wise man once said that the fear of the +Lord is the beginning of wisdom. He might have left out the august and +holy Name, and still have stated a tremendous fact; for fear is always +the beginning of wisdom. + +'No fears, no grace!' said James, in the second part of the _Pilgrim's +Progress_, and Mr. Greatheart seemed of pretty much the same opinion. +They were discussing poor Mr. Fearing. + +'Mr. Fearing,' said Greatheart, 'was one that played upon the bass. +Some say that the bass is the ground of music. The first string that +the musician touches is the bass, when he intends to put all in tune. +God also plays upon this string first, when He sets the soul in tune +for Himself. Only here was the imperfection of Mr. Fearing: he could +play upon no other music but this, till towards his latter end.' + +Here, then, we have the principle stated as well as it is possible to +state it. You must tune from the bass, for the bass is the basis of +music. But you must rise from the bass, as a building must rise from +its foundations, or the music will be a moan and a monotone. The fear +of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; but the wisdom that gets no +farther is like music that rumbles and reverberates in one everlasting +bass. + +But the finest exposition of the inestimable value of fear is not by +John Bunyan. It is by Jack London. _White Fang_ is the greatest story +of the inner life of an animal that has ever been contributed to our +literature. And Jack London, who seems to have got into the very soul +of a wolf, shows us how the wonderful character of White Fang was +moulded and fashioned by fear. First there was the mere physical fear +of Pain; the dread of hurting his tender little nose as the tiny grey +cub explored the dark recesses of the lair; the horror of his mother's +paw that smote him down whenever he approached the mouth of the cave; +and, later on, the fear of the steep bank, learned by a terrible fall; +the fear of the yielding water, learned by attempting to walk upon it; +and the fear of the ptarmigan's beak and the weasel's teeth, learned by +robbing their respective nests. + +And following on the physical fear of _Pain_ came the reverential fear +of _Power_. 'His mother represented Power,' Jack London says, 'and as +he grew older he felt this power in the sharper admonition of her paw, +while the reproving nudge of her nose gave place to the slash of her +fangs. For this he respected his mother.' And afterwards, when he +came upon the Red Indians, and saw men for the first time, a still +greater fear possessed him. Here were creatures who made the very +sticks and stones obey them! They seemed to him as gods, and he felt +that he must worship and serve them. And, later still, when he saw +white men living, not in wigwams, but in great palaces of stone, he +trembled as he had never trembled before. These were superior gods; +and, as everybody knows, White Fang passed from fearing them to knowing +them, and from knowing them to loving them. And at last he became +their fond, devoted slave. It is true that fear was to White Fang only +_the beginning_ of wisdom; but that is precisely what Solomon says. +Afterwards the brave old wolf learned fearlessness; but the early +lessons taught by fear were still of priceless value, for to courage +they added caution; and courage wedded to caution is irresistible. + +We are living in times that are wonderfully meek and mild; and Fear, +the stern old schoolmaster, is looked upon with suspicion. It is +curious how we reverse the fashions of our ancestors. We flaunt in +shameless abandon what they veiled in blushing modesty; but we make up +for it by hiding what they had no hesitation in displaying. Our teeth, +for example. It is considered the depth of impropriety to show your +teeth nowadays, except in the sense in which actresses show them on +post cards. But our forefathers were not afraid of showing their +teeth, and they made themselves feared and honoured and loved in +consequence. Yes, feared and honoured and loved; for I gravely doubt +if any man ever yet taught others to honour and love him who had not +first taught them on occasion to fear him. + +The best illustration of what I mean occurs in the story of the Irish +movement. In the politics of the last century there has been nothing +so dramatic, nothing so pathetic, and nothing so tragic as the story of +the rise and fall of Parnell. Lord Morley's tense and vivid chapters +on that phase of modern statesmanship are far more thrilling and far +more affecting than a similar number of pages of any novel in the +English language. With the tragic fall of the Irish leader we need not +now concern ourselves. But how are we to account for the meteoric rise +of Parnell, and for the phenomenal power that he wielded? For years he +was the most effective figure in British politics. There is only one +explanation; and it is the explanation upon which practically all the +historians of that period agree. Charles Stewart Parnell made it the +first article of his creed that he must make himself feared. His +predecessor in the leadership of the Irish party was Isaac Butt. Mr. +Butt believed in conciliation. He was opposed to 'a policy of +exasperation.' He thought that, if the Irishmen in the House exercised +patience, and considered the convenience of the two great political +parties, they would appeal to the good sense of the British people and +ensure the success of their cause. And in return--to quote from Mr. +Winston Churchill's life of his father--the two great parties treated +Mr. Butt and the Irish members with 'that form of respect which, being +devoid of the element of fear, is closely akin to contempt.' Then +arose Parnell. He held that the Irishmen must make themselves the +terror of the nation. They must embarrass and confuse the English +leaders, and throw the whole political machinery of both parties +hopelessly out of gear. And in a few months Mr. Parnell made the Irish +question the supreme question in the mind of the nation, and became for +years the most hated and the most beloved personality on the +parliamentary horizon. Nobody who knows the history of that troublous +time can doubt that, but for the moral shipwreck of Parnell, a +shipwreck that nearly broke Mr. Gladstone's heart, the whole Irish +question would have been settled, for better or for worse, twenty years +ago. With the merits or demerits of his cause I am not now dealing; +but everybody who has read Lord Morley's _Life of Gladstone_ or Mr. +Barry O'Brien's _Life of Parnell_ must have been impressed by this +striking and dramatic picture of a lonely and extraordinary man +espousing an apparently hopeless cause, deliberately selecting fear as +the weapon of his warfare, and actually leading his little band of +astonished followers within sight of victory. + +It is ridiculous to say that fear possesses no moral value. Whenever I +hear that contention stated, my mind invariably swings back to a great +story told by Sir Henry Hawkins in his _Reminiscences_. He is telling +of his experiences under Mr. Justice Maule, and is praising the +judicial perspicacity of that judge. In a certain murder case a boy of +eight was called to give evidence, and counsel objected to so youthful +a witness being heard. Mr. Justice Maule thought for a minute, and +then beckoned the boy to the bench. + +'"I should like to know," His Honour observed, "what you have been +taught to believe. What will become of you, my little boy, when you +die, if you are so wicked as to tell a lie?"' + +'"Hell-fire!" answered the boy with great promptitude. + +'"But do you mean to say," the judge went on, "that you would go to +hell-fire for telling any lie?" + +'"Hell-fire, sir!" the boy replied again. + +'To several similar questions the boy made the same terrible response. + +'"He does not seem to be competent," said the counsel. + +'"I beg your pardon," returned the judge. "This boy thinks that for +every wilful fault he will go to hell-fire; and he is very likely while +he believes that doctrine to be most strict in his observance of truth. +If you and I believed that such would be the penalty for every act of +misconduct we committed, we should be better men than we are. Let the +boy be sworn!"' + +Sir Henry Hawkins tells the story with evident approval, so that we +have here the valuable testimony of two distinguished judges to the +moral value of fear from a purely judicial point of view. Of course, +the value is not stable or permanent. The goodness that arises from +fear is like the tameness of a terrified tiger, or the willingness of a +wolf to leave the deer unharmed when both are flying from before a +prairie-fire. When the fear passes, the blood-lust will return. But +that is not the point. Nobody said that fear was wisdom. What the +wise man said was that fear is _the beginning_ of wisdom. And as the +beginning of wisdom it has a certain initial and preparatory value. +The sooner that the beginning is developed and brought to a climax, the +better of course it will be. But meanwhile a beginning is something. +It is a step in the right direction. It is the learning of the +alphabet. It is the earnest and promise of much that is to come. + +Now if the Church refuses to employ this potent weapon, she is very +stupid. A beginning is only a beginning, but it is a beginning. If we +ignore the element of terror, we are deliberately renouncing a force +which, in the wilds and in the world, is of really first-class value +and importance. I am not now saying that the ministry would be untrue +to its high calling if it failed to warn men with gravity and with +tears. That is a matter of such sacredness and solemnity that I +hesitate to touch it here; although it is obvious that, under any +conceivable method of interpretation, there is a terrible note of +urgency in the New Testament that no pulpit can decline, without grave +responsibility, to echo. But I am content to point out here that, from +a purely tactical point of view, the Church would be very foolish to +scout this valuable weapon. The element of fear is one of the great +primal passions, and to all those deep basic human elements the gospel +makes its peculiar appeal. And the fears of men must be excited. The +music cannot be all bass; but the bass note must not be absent, or the +music will be ruined. + +There are still those who, far from being cowards, may, like Noah, be +'moved with fear' to the saving of their houses. Cardinal Manning +tells in his Journal how, as a boy at Tetteridge, he read again and +again of the lake that burneth with fire. 'These words,' he says, +'became fixed in my mind, and kept me as boy and youth and man in the +midst of all evil. I owe to them more than will ever be known to the +last day.' And Archbishop Benson used to tell of a working man who was +seen looking at a placard announcing a series of addresses on 'The Four +Last Things.' After he had read the advertisement he turned to a +companion and asked, 'Where would you and I have been without hell?' +And the Archbishop used to inquire whether, if we abandoned the +legitimate appeal to human fear, we should not need some other motive +in our preaching to fill the vacant place. + +I know, of course, that all this may be misconstrued. But the wise +will understand. The naturalist will not blame me, for fear is the +life of the forest. The humanitarian can say no word of censure, for +fear is intensely human. But the preacher who strikes this deep bass +note must strike it very soulfully. No man should be able to speak on +such things except with a sob in his throat and tears in his eyes. We +must warn men to flee from the wrath to come; but that wrath is the +wrath of a Lamb. Andrew Bonar one day told Murray McCheyne that he had +just preached a sermon on hell. 'And were you able to preach it with +tenderness?' McCheyne wistfully inquired. Fear is part of that +wondrous instrument on all the chords of which the minister is called +at times to play; but this chord must be struck with trembling fingers. + +No mistake can be more fatal than to set off this aspect of things +against more attractive themes. All truth is related. Some years ago +in Scotland an express train stopped abruptly on a curve in the time of +a great flood. Just in front of the train was a roaring chasm from +which the viaduct had been swept away. Just behind the train was the +mangled frame of the girl who had warned the driver. _It is impossible +to understand that sacrifice lying just behind the guard's van unless +you have seen the yawning chasm just in front of the engine!_ + +'No fears, no grace!' said James. + +'And this I took very great notice of,' said Mr. Greatheart, 'that the +Valley of the Shadow of Death was as quiet while Mr. Fearing went +through it as ever I knew it before or since; and when he came to the +river without a bridge, I took notice of what was very remarkable; the +water of that river was lower at this time than ever I saw it in all my +life. So he went over at last, not much above wet shod.' + +Fear had done its work, and done it well. The bass notes had proved +the foundation of a music that blended at last with the very harmonies +of heaven. Fear, even with White Fang, led on to love; and perfect +love casteth out fear. + + + + +VI + +A FRUITLESS DEPUTATION + +It was in New Zealand, and I was attending my first Conference. I had +only a month or two earlier entered the Christian ministry. I dreaded +the Assembly of my grave and reverend seniors. With becoming modesty, +I stole quietly into the hall and occupied a back seat. From this +welcome seclusion, however, I was rudely summoned to receive the right +hand of fellowship from the President. Then I once more plunged into +the outer darkness of oblivion and obscurity. Here I remained until +once again I was electrified at the sound of my own name. It seemed +that the sorrows of dissension had overtaken a tiny church in a remote +bush district. One of the oldest and most revered members, the father +of a very large family and the leader of the little brotherhood, had +intimated his intention of withdrawing from fellowship and of joining +another denomination. This formidable secession had thrown the little +congregation into helpless confusion, and an appeal was made to the +courts of the denomination. The letter was read; and the secretary +stated briefly and succinctly the facts of the situation. And then, to +my amazement, he closed by moving that Mr. William Forbury and myself +be appointed a deputation to visit the district, to advise the church, +and to report to Conference. Mr. Forbury, he explained, was a father +in Israel. His grey hairs commanded reverence; whilst his ripe +experience and sound judgement would be invaluable to the small and +troubled community. So far, so good. His reasoning seemed +irresistible. But he went on to say that he had included my name +because I was an absolute stranger. I knew nothing of the internal +disputes that had rent the church. My very freshness would give me a +position of impartiality that older men could not claim. Moreover, he +argued, the visit to a bush congregation, and the insight into its +peculiar difficulties, would be a useful experience for me. I felt +that I could not decently decline; but I confidently expected that the +proposal would be challenged and probably rejected. To my +astonishment, however, it was seconded and carried. And nothing +remained but to arrange with Mr. Forbury the date of our delegation. + +The day came, and we set out. It took the train just four hours to +convey us to the lonely station from which we emerged upon a wilderness +of green bush and a maze of muddy tracks. Mr. Forbury had visited the +district frequently, and knew it well. We called upon several settlers +in the course of the afternoon, taking dinner with one, and afternoon +tea with another. And then we proceeded to the home of the seceder. +The place seemed alive with young people. The house swarmed with +children. + +'How are you, John?' inquired my companion. + +'Ah, William, glad to see you; how are you?' + +They made an interesting study, these two old men. Their forms were +bent with long years of hard and honourable toil. Their faces were +rugged and weatherbeaten, wrinkled with age, and furrowed with care. +They had come out together from the Homeland years and years ago. They +had borne each other's burdens, and shared each other's confidences, +through all the days of their pilgrimage. Their thoughts of each other +were mingled with all the memories of their courtships, their weddings, +and their earlier struggles. A thousand tender and sacred associations +were interwoven, in the mind of each, with the name of the other. When +fortune had smiled, they had delighted in each other's prosperity. In +times of shadow, each had hastened to the other's side. They had +walked together, talked together, laughed together, wept together, +and--very, very often--prayed together. They had been as David and +Jonathan, and the soul of the one was knit to the soul of the other. +Hundreds of times, before the one had come to settle in this new +district, they had walked to the house of God in company. And now a +matter of doctrine had intervened. And, with such men, a matter of +doctrine is a matter of conscience. And a matter of conscience is the +most stubborn of all obstacles to overcome. I looked into their stern, +expressive faces, and I saw that they were no triflers. A fad had no +charm for either of them. They looked into each other's faces, and +each read the truth. The breach was irreparable. + +We sat in the great farm kitchen until tea-time. I felt it was no +business of mine to broach the affairs that had brought us. Several +times I thought that Mr. Forbury was about to touch the matter. But +each time it was adroitly avoided, and the conversation swerved off in +another direction. Once or twice I felt half inclined to precipitate a +discussion. Indeed, I was in the act of doing so when our hostess +brought in the tea. A snowy cloth, home-made scones, delicious +oat-cake, abundance of cream--how tempting it all was! And how +unattractive ecclesiastical controversy in comparison! We sat there in +the twilight for what seemed like an age, talking of everything under +the sun. Of everything, that is to say, save one thing only. And +there brooded heavily over our spirits the consciousness that we were +avoiding the one and only subject on which we were all really and +deeply thinking. + +After tea came family worship. I was invited to conduct it, and did +so. After reading a psalm from the old farm Bible, we all kneeled +together, the flickering flames of the great log-fire flinging strange +shadows on the whitened wall and rafters as we rose and bowed +ourselves. I caught myself attempting, even in prayer, to make obscure +but fitting reference to the special circumstances that had brought us +together. But the reticence of my companion was contagious. It was +like a bridle on my tongue. The sadness of it all haunted me, and +paralysed my speech; and I swerved off again at every threatened +allusion. We sat on for awhile, they on either side of the roomy +fireplace, and I between them, whilst the good woman and her daughters +washed up the tea-things. The clatter of the dishes, and the babel of +many voices, made it impossible for us to speak freely on the subject +nearest our hearts. At length we rose to go. I noticed, on the part +of my two aged companions, a peculiar reluctance to separate. Each +longed, yet dreaded, to speak. There was evidently so much to be said, +and yet speech seemed so hopeless. + +At last our friend said that he would walk a few steps with us. We +said good-bye to the great household and set off into the night. + +I shall never forget that walk! It was a clear, frosty evening. The +moonlight was radiant. Every twig was tipped with silver. The +smallest object could be seen distinctly. I watched the rabbits as +they popped timidly in and out of the great gorse hedgerows. A hare +went scurrying across the field. I felt all at once that I was an +intruder. What right had I to be in the company of these two aged +brethren in the very crisis of their lifelong friendship? No +Conference on earth could vest me with authority to invade this holy +ground! I made an excuse, and hurried on, walking some distance in +front of them. But the night was so still that, even at that distance, +had a word been uttered I must have heard it. I could hear the clatter +of hoofs on the hard road two miles ahead. I could hear the dogs +barking at a farmhouse twice as far away. I could hear a rabbit +squealing in a trap on the fringe of the bush far behind us. But no +word did I hear. For none was uttered. Side by side they walked on +and on in perfect silence. I once paused and allowed them to approach. +They were crying like children. Stern old Puritans! They were built +of the stuff that martyrs are made of. Either would have died a +hundred deaths rather than have been false to conscience, or to truth, +or to the other. Either would have died a hundred deaths to save the +other from one. Neither could be coaxed or cowed into betraying one +jot or tittle of his heart's best treasure. And each knew, whilst he +trembled for himself, that all this was true of the other as well. +Side by side they walked for miles in that pale and silvery moonlight. +Not one word was spoken. Grief had paralysed their vocal powers; and +their eyes were streaming with another eloquence. They wrung each +other's hands at length, and parted without even saying good-night! + +At the next Conference it was the junior member of the deputation who +presented the report. He simply stated that the delegation had visited +the district without having been able to reconcile the differences that +had arisen in the little congregation. The Assembly formally adopted +the report, and the deputation was thanked for its services. It seemed +a very futile business. And yet one member of that deputation has +always felt that life was strangely enriched by the happenings of that +memorable night. It puts iron into the blood to spend an hour with men +to whom the claim of conscience is supreme, and who love truth with so +deathless an affection that the purest and noblest of other loves +cannot dethrone it. + + + + +VII + +TRAMP! TRAMP! TRAMP + +I + +Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! It was like the regular and rhythmic beat +of a great machine. File after file, column after column, I watched +the troops pass by. Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! On they went, and on, +and on; all in perfect time and step; tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! It +reminded me of that haunting passage that tells us that 'all these men +of war that could keep rank came with a perfect heart to make David +king over all Israel.' _They could keep rank_! It is a suggestive +record. There is more in it than appears on the surface. _They could +keep rank_! Right! Left! Right! Left! Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! +All these men of war _that could keep rank_ came with a perfect heart +to make David king over all Israel. + + +II + +Half the art of life lies in learning to keep step. It is a great +thing--a very great thing--to be able to get on with other people. Let +me indulge in a little autobiography. I once had a most extraordinary +experience, an experience so altogether amazing that all subsequent +experiences appear like the veriest commonplaces in comparison. The +fact is, I was born. Such a thing had never happened to me before, and +I was utterly bewildered. I did not know what to make of it. My first +impression was that I was all alone and that I had the solar system all +to myself. Like Robinson Crusoe, I fancied myself monarch of all I +surveyed. But then, like Robinson Crusoe, I discovered a footprint, +and found that the planet on which I had been so mysteriously cast was +inhabited.. There were two of us--myself and The Other Fellow. + +As soon as I could devise means of locomotion, I set out, like Robinson +Crusoe, to find out what The Other Fellow was like. I had a kind of +instinct that sooner or later I should have to fight him. I found that +he differed from me in one essential particular. He had hundreds of +millions of heads; I had but one. He had hundreds of millions of feet; +hundreds of millions of hands; hundreds of millions of ears and eyes; I +had but two. But for all that, it never occurred to me that he was +greater than I. _Myself_ always appeared to me to be vastly more +important than _The Other Fellow_. It was nothing to me that he +starved so long as I had plenty of food. It was nothing to me that he +shivered so long as I was wrapped up snugly. I do not remember that it +ever once crossed my mind in the first six months of my existence that +it would be a bad thing if he died, with all his hundreds of millions +of heads, and left me all alone upon the planet. I was first, and he +was nowhere. I was everything, and he was nothing. Why, dear me, I +must have cut my first teeth before it occurred to me that there was +room on the planet for both of us; and I must have cut my wisdom teeth +before I discovered that the world was on the whole more interesting to +me because of his presence on it. And since then I have spent some +pains, in a blundering, unskilful kind of a way, in trying to make +myself tolerable to him. And the longer I live the more clearly I see +that, although he is an odd fellow at times, he is very quick to +respond to and reciprocate such advances. He is discovering, as I am, +that walking in step has a pleasure peculiar to itself. + + +III + +I said a moment ago that half the air of life lies in learning to keep +step. Conversely, half the tragedy of life consists in our failure so +to do. Here are Mr. and Mrs. Cardew. All lovers of Mark Rutherford +know them well. They were both of them really excellent people; a +minister and his wife; deeply attached to one another; and yet as +wretched as wretched could be. How are you going to account for it? +It is vastly important just because it is so common. Domestic +difficulties rarely arise out of downright wickedness. Husband and +wife may be as free from all outward fault as poor Mr. and Mrs. Cardew. +Mark Rutherford thinks that Mr. Cardew was chiefly to blame, and his +verdict is probably just. A man takes a considerably longer stride +than a woman; but, for all that, it is still possible, even in these +days of hobble skirts, for man and maid to walk in step, as all true +lovers know. But it can only be managed by his moderating his ungainly +stride to her more modest one, and, perhaps, by her unconsciously +lengthening her step under the invigorating influence of his support. +Which is a parable. Mark Rutherford says that 'Mr. Cardew had not +learned the art of being happy with his wife; he did not know that +happiness is an art; he rather did everything he could do to make the +relationship intolerable. He demanded payment in coin stamped from his +own mint, and if bullion and jewels had been poured before him he would +have taken no heed of them. He did not take into account that what his +wife said and what she felt might not be the same; that persons who +have no great command over language are obliged to make one word do +duty for a dozen; and that, if his wife was defective at one point, +there were in her whole regions of unexplored excellence, of faculties +never encouraged, and an affection to which he offered no response.' +There is more philosophy in the cunning way in which those happy lovers +in the lane accommodate their strides to the comfort of each other than +we have been accustomed to suspect. It is done very easily; it is done +almost unconsciously; but they must be very careful to go on doing it +long after they have left the leafy old lane behind them. + + +IV + +I do not mean to suggest that husbands and wives are sinners above all +people on the face of the earth. By no means. Is there a club, a +society, an office, or a church in the wide, wide world that does not +shelter a most excellent individual whose one and only fault is that he +cannot get on with anybody else? That is, of course, my way of putting +it. It is not his. He would say that nobody else can get on with him. +Which again takes our minds back to the troops. A raw Scotch lad +joined the expeditionary force, and on the first parade day his mother +and sister came proudly down to see him march. Jock, sad to say, was +out of step. At least that is my way of putting it. But it is not the +only way. 'Look, mother!' said his fond sister, 'look, they're a' oot +o' step but our Jock!' It is not for me to decide whether Jock is +right or whether the others are. But since the others are all in step +with each other, I am afraid the presumptive evidence is rather heavily +against Jock. And Jock is well known to all of us. Nobody likes him, +and nobody knows why they don't like him. In many respects he is a +paragon of goodness. He loves his church, or he would not have stuck +to it year in and year out as he has done. He is not self-assertive; +he is quite willing to efface his own personality and be invisible. He +is generous to a fault. Nobody is more eager to do anything for the +general good. And yet nobody likes him. The only thing against him is +that he has never disciplined himself to get on with other people. He +has never tried to accommodate himself to their stride. He can't keep +rank. They're a' oot o' step but our Jock! Poor Jock! + + +V + +I know that out of all this a serious problem emerges. The problem is +this: why should Jock destroy his own personality in order to render +himself an exact replica of every other man in the regiment? Is +individuality an evil thing that must be wiped out and obliterated? +The answer to this objection is that Jock is not asked to sacrifice his +personality; he is asked to sacrifice his angularity. The ideal of +British discipline is, not to turn men into machines, but to preserve +individuality and initiative; and yet, at the same time, to make each +man of as great value to his comrades as is by any means possible. In +the church we do the same. Brown means well, but he is all gush. You +ask him to do a thing. 'Oh, certainly, with the greatest pleasure in +the world!' But you have an awkward feeling that he will undertake a +thousand other duties in the same airy way, and that the chances of his +doing the work, and doing it well, are not rosy. Smith, on the other +hand, is cautious. He, too, means well; but he is unduly scared of +promising more than he can creditably fulfil; and, as a matter of fact, +this bogy frightens him out of doing as much as he might and should. +Now here you have Brown running and Smith crawling. You know perfectly +well that Brown will exhaust himself quite prematurely, and that Smith +will never get there. And between Brown's excited scamper and Smith's +exasperating crawl the main host jogs along at a medium pace. Now +Brown's personality is a delightful thing. You can't help loving him. +His willingness is charming, and his enthusiasm contagious. And +Smith's steady persistence and extreme conscientiousness are most +admirable. They do us all good. But if, whilst preserving and +developing their personalities, we could strip them of their +angularities, and get them to walk in step at one steady and regular +pace--tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp!--we should surely stand a better +chance of making David king over all Israel! + + +VI + +It is all a matter of discipline. The ploughman comes up from the +country with a long ungainly stride. The city man, accustomed to +crowded pavements, comes with a short and mincing step. They are +drilled for a fortnight side by side, and away they go. Right! Left! +Right! Left! Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! The harmony is perfect. +Jock must submit himself to the same rigid process of training. He may +be firmly convinced that the stride of the regiment is too short or too +long. But if, on that ground, he adopts a different one, nobody but +his gentle and admiring little sister will believe that he is right and +they are wrong. Jock's isolated attitude invariably reflects upon +himself. 'The whole regiment is out of step!' he declares, drawing +attention to his different stride. That is too often the trouble with +Jock. 'The members of our Church do not read the Bible!' he says. It +may be sadly true; but it sounds, put in that way, like a claim that he +is the one conscientious and regular Bible-reader among them. 'The +members of our Church do not pray!' he exclaims sadly. It may be that +a call to prayer is urgently needed; but poor Jock puts the thing in +such a light that it appears to be a claim on his part that he alone +knows the way to the Throne of Grace. 'Among the faithless faithful +only he!' 'The members of our Church are not spiritually-minded!' he +bemoans; but somehow, said as he says it, it sounds suspiciously like +an echo of little Jack Horner's 'What a good boy am I!' + +In the correspondence of Elizabeth Fry there occurs a very striking and +suggestive passage. When Mrs. Fry began to meet with great success in +her work among the English prisons, some of the Quakers feared that her +triumphs would engender pride in her own soul and destroy her +spirituality. At last the thing became nauseous and intolerable, and +she wrote, 'The prudent fears that the good have for me try me more +than most things, and I find that it calls for Christian forbearance +not to be a little put out by them. I am confident that we often see +the Martha spirit of criticism enter in, even about spiritual things. +_O Lord, enable us to keep our ranks in righteousness!_' + +Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! + + +VII + +'And Enoch walked with God.' + +'And Noah walked with God.' + +'And Abraham walked with God.' + +'And Moses walked with God.' + +Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! + + +'All these men of war _that could keep rank_ came with a perfect heart +to make David king over all Israel.' + +'O Lord, enable us to keep our ranks in righteousness!' + + + + +VIII + +THE FIRST MATE + +'First officers are often worse than skippers,' remarked the night +watchman in Mr. W. W. Jacobs' _Light Freights_. 'In the first place, +they know they ain't skippers, and that alone is enough to put 'em in a +bad temper, especially if they've 'ad their certificate a good many +years, and can't get a vacancy.' I fancy there is something in the +night watchman's philosophy; and I am therefore writing a word or two +for the special benefit of first mates. I am half inclined to address +it 'to first mates only,' for to second mates, third mates, and other +inferior officers I have nothing to say. But the first mate evokes our +sympathy on the ground that the night watchman states so forcibly, +'First mates know they ain't skippers, and that alone is enough to put +'em in a bad temper.' It is horribly vexatious to be next door to +greatness. An old proverb tells us that a miss is as good as a mile; +but like most proverbs, it is as false as false can be. A mile is ever +so much better than a miss. + +I am fond of cricket, and am president of a certain club. I invariably +attend the matches unless the house happens to be on fire. I have +enough of the sporting instinct to be able to take defeat +cheerfully--if the defeat falls within certain limits. It must not be +so crushing as to be a positive humiliation, nor must it be by so fine +a margin as to constitute itself a tantalization. Of the two, I prefer +the former to the latter. The former can be dismissed under certain +recognized forms. 'The glorious uncertainty of cricket!' you say to +yourself. 'It's all in the game; and the best side in the world +sometimes has an off day!' But, if, after a great struggle, you lose +by a run, you go home thinking uncharitable thoughts of the bowler who +might have prevented the other fellow from making a certain boundary +hit, of the wicket-keeper who might have saved a bye, or of the batsman +who might easily have got a few more runs if he hadn't played such a +ridiculously fluky stroke. To be beaten by a hundred runs is bad, but +bearable; to be beaten by an innings and a hundred runs is humiliating +and horrible; to be beaten by a single run is exasperating and +intolerable. + +The same thing meets us at every turn. A few minutes ago I picked up +the _Life of Lord Randolph Churchill_, by his son. In the very first +chapter there is a letter written by Dr. Creighton to the Duchess of +Marlborough commiserating her ladyship on the fact that Lord Randolph +had been placed in the second class at the December examinations at +Oxford. 'I must own,' the Bishop writes, 'that I was sorry when I +heard how narrowly Lord Randolph missed the first class; a few more +questions answered, and a few more omissions in some of his papers, and +he would have secured it. He was, I am told by the examiners, the best +man who was put into the second class; and the great hardship is, as +your Grace observes, that he should be in the same class with so many +who are greatly his inferior in knowledge and ability. It is rather +tantalizing to think that he came so near; _if he had been farther off +I should have been more content_.' Now that is exactly the misery of +the first mate. He is so near to being a skipper, so very near. He +even carries continually in his pocket the official papers that certify +that he is fully qualified to be a skipper. And yet, for all that, he +is not a skipper. Sometimes, indeed, he fancies that he will never be +a skipper. It is very trying. I am sorry--genuinely sorry--for the +first mate. What can I say to help him? + +Perhaps the thing that he will most appreciate is a reminder of the +tremendous debt that the world owes to its first mates. I was reading +the other day Dasent's great _Life of Delane_. Among the most striking +documents printed in these five volumes are the letters that Delane +wrote from the seat of war during the struggle in the Crimea to the +substitute who occupied his own editorial chair in the office of _The +Times_. And the whole burden of those letters is to show that England +was saved in those days by a first mate. 'The admiral,' he says in one +letter, 'is by no means up to his position. The real commander is +Lyons, who is just another Nelson--full of energy and activity.' Two +days later, he says again, 'Nothing but the energy and determination of +Sir E. Lyons overcame the difficulties and "impossibilities" raised by +those who seem to have always a consistent objection to doing anything +until their "to-morrow" shall arrive. All the credit is due to him, +and to him alone, for our admiral never left his ship, which was +anchored three miles from the shore, and contented himself with sending +the same contingent of men and boats as the other ships.' And, writing +again after the landing had been effected, Delane says, 'Remember +always, that, in the great credit which the success of this landing +deserves, Dundas has no share. Lyons has done all, and this in spite +of discouragement such as a smaller man would have resented. Nelson +could not have done better, and, indeed, his case at Copenhagen nearly +resembles this.' Here, then, is a feather in the cap of the first +mate. He may often save a vital situation which, in the hands of a +dilatory skipper, might easily have been lost. The skipper is skipper, +and knows it. He is at the top of the tree, and there remains nothing +to struggle after. He is apt to rest on his laurels and lose his +energy. This subtle tendency is the first mate's opportunity. The +ship must not be lost because the skipper goes to sleep. Everything, +at such an hour, depends on the first mate. + +Nor is it only in time of war and of crisis that the first mate comes +to his own. In the arts of peace the selfsame principle holds good. +What could our literature have done without the first mate? And in the +republic of letters the first mate is usually a woman. It is only +quite lately that women have, to any appreciable extent, applied +themselves to the tasks and responsibilities of authorship. Until well +into the eighteenth century, Mrs. Grundy scowled out of countenance any +intrepid female who threatened to invade the sacred domain. In 1778, +however, Miss Fanny Burney braved the old lady's wrath, published +_Evelina_, and became the pioneer of a new epoch. One of these days, +perhaps on the bi-centenary of that event, the army of women who wield +the pen will erect a statue to the memory of that courageous and +brilliant pathfinder. When they do so, two memorable scenes in the +life of their heroine will probably be represented in bas-relief upon +the pedestal. The one will portray Miss Burney, hopeless of ever +inducing a biased public to read a woman's work, making a bonfire of +the manuscripts to which she had devoted such patient care. The other +will illustrate the famous scene when Miss Burney danced a jig to Daddy +Crisp round the great mulberry-tree at Chessington. It was, her diary +tells us, the uncontrollable outcome of her exhilaration on learning of +the praise which the great Dr. Johnson bestowed on _Evelina_. 'It gave +me such a flight of spirits,' she says, 'that I danced a jig to Mr. +Crisp, without any preparation, music, or explanation, to his no small +amazement and diversion.' Macaulay declared that Miss Burney did for +the English novel what Jeremy Collier did for the English drama; and +she did it in a better way. 'She first showed that a tale might be +written in which both the fashionable and the vulgar life of London +might be exhibited with great force, and with broad comic humour, and +which should yet contain not a single line inconsistent with rigid +morality, or even with virgin delicacy. She took away the reproach +which lay on a most useful and delightful species of composition.' +Prejudice, however, dies hard; and the same writer tells us in another +essay that seventy years later, some reviewers were still of opinion +that a lady who dares to publish a book renounces by that act the +franchises appertaining to her sex, and can claim no exemption from the +utmost rigour of critical procedure. + +But, however strong may have been the prejudice against a woman +becoming captain, and taking her place upon the bridge, nobody could +object to her becoming first mate; and it is as first mate that woman +has rendered the most valuable service. A few, like Fanny Burney and +Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte and George Eliot, may have become +skippers; but we could better afford to lose all the works of such +writers than lose the influence which women have exerted over captains +whom they served in the capacity of first mate. It was a saying of +Emerson's that a man is entitled to credit, not only for what he +himself does, but for all that he inspires others to do. To no subject +does this axiom apply with greater force than to this. It would be a +fatal mistake to suppose that the contribution of women to the republic +of letters begins and ends with the works that bear feminine names upon +their title-pages. Our literature is adorned by a few examples of +acknowledged collaboration between a man and a woman, and only in very +rare instances is the woman the minor contributor. But, in addition to +these, there are innumerable records of men whose names stand in the +foremost rank among our laureates and teachers yet whose work would +have been simply impossible but for the woman in the background. From +a host of examples that naturally rush to mind we may instance, almost +at random, the cases of Wordsworth, Carlyle, and Robert Louis +Stevenson. In the days of his restless youth, when Wordsworth was in +danger of entangling himself in the military and political tumults of +the time, it was his sister who recalled him to his desk and pointed +him along the road that led to destiny. 'It is,' Miss Masson remarks, +'in moments such as this that men, especially those who feed on their +feelings, become desperate, and think and do desperate acts. It was at +this critical moment for Wordsworth that his sister Dorothy stepped +into his life and saved him.' 'She soothed his mind,' the same writer +says again, banished from it both contemporary politics and religious +doubts, and infused instead love of beauty and dependence on faith, and +so she re-awoke craving for poetic expression.' + + She, in the midst of all, preserved him still + A poet; made him seek beneath that name, + And that alone, his office upon earth. + +Poor Dorothy! She accompanied her brother on more than half his +wanderings; she pointed out to him more than half the loveliness that +is embalmed in his verses; she suggested to him half his themes. As +the poet himself confessed: + + She gave me eyes, she gave me ears, + And humble cares, and delicate fears; + A heart, the fountain of sweet tears; + And love, and thought, and joy. + + +Yes, the world owes more than it will ever know to first mates as loyal +and true and helpful as Dorothy Wordsworth. The skipper stands on the +bridge and gets all the glory, but only he and the first mate know how +much was due to the figure in the background. Think, too, of that +bright spring day, nearly fifty years ago now, when a lady, driving +through Hyde Park to see the beauty of the crocuses and the snowdrops, +was seen to lurch suddenly forward in her carriage, and a moment after +was found to be dead. 'It was a loss unspeakable in its intensity for +Carlyle,' Mr. Maclean Watt says in his monograph. 'This woman was one +of the bravest and brightest influences in his life, though, perhaps, +it was entirely true that he was not aware of his indebtedness until +the Veil of Silence fell between.' The skipper never is aware of his +indebtedness to the first mate; that is an essential feature of the +relationship. It is the glory of the first mate that he works without +thought of recognition or reward; glad if he can keep the ship true to +her course; and ever proud to see the skipper crowned with all the +glory. Carlyle's debt to his wife is one of the most tragic stories in +the history of letters. 'In the ruined nave of the old Abbey Kirk,' +the sage tells us, 'with the skies looking down on her, there sleeps my +little Jeannie, and the light of her face will never shine on me more. +I say deliberately her part in the stern battle (and except myself none +knows how stern) was brighter and braver than my own.' + +And in Stevenson's case the obligation is even more marked. 'What a +debt he owed to women!' one of his biographers exclaims. 'In his puny, +ailing infancy, his mother and his nurse Cummie had soothed and tended +him; in his troubled hour of youth he had found an inspirer, consoler, +and guide in Mrs. Sitwell to teach him belief in himself; in his moment +of failure, and struggle with poverty and death itself, he had married +a wife capable of being his comrade, his critic, and his nurse.' We +owe all the best part of Stevenson's work to the presence by his side +of a wife who possessed, as Sir Sidney Colvin testifies, 'a character +as strong, interesting, and romantic as his own. She was the +inseparable sharer of all his thoughts; the staunch companion of all +his adventures; the most open-hearted of friends to all who loved him; +the most shrewd and stimulating critic of his work; and in sickness, +despite her own precarious health, the most devoted and most efficient +of nurses.' + +Dorothy Wordsworth, Jane Carlyle, and Fanny Stevenson are +representatives of a great host of brave and brilliant women without +whom our literature would have been poor indeed. Some day we shall +open a Pantheon in which we shall place splendid monuments to our first +mates. At present we fill our Westminster Abbeys with the statues of +skippers. But, depend upon it, injustice cannot last for ever. Some +day the world will ask, not only, 'Was this man great?' but also, 'Who +made this man so great?' And when this old world of ours takes it into +its head to ask such questions, the day of the first mate will at last +have dawned. + +One other word ought to be said, although it seems a cruel kindness to +say it. It is this. There are people who succeed brilliantly as first +mates, but who fail ignominiously as skippers. Aaron is, of course, +the classical example. As long as Moses was skipper, and Aaron first +mate, everything went well. But Moses withdrew for awhile, and then +Aaron took command. 'And the Lord said unto Moses, Go, get thee down; +for thy people, which thou broughtest out of the land of Egypt, have +corrupted themselves. They have turned aside quickly out of the way +which I commanded them; they have made a molten calf, and have +worshipped it, and have sacrificed thereunto, and said, These be thy +gods, O Israel, which have brought thee up out of the land of Egypt!' +As long, I say, as Moses was skipper and Aaron first mate, Aaron did +magnificently. But when Aaron took command, he was, as Dr. Whyte says, +'a mere reed shaken with the wind; as weak and as evil as any other +man. Those forty days that Moses spent on the mount brought out, among +other things, both Moses' greatness and Aaron's littleness and weakness +in a way that nothing else could have done. "Up, make us gods, which +shall go before us; for, as for this Moses, we know not what is become +of him." And Aaron went down like a broken reed before the idolatrous +clamour of the revolted people.' The day of judgement, depend upon it, +will be a day of tremendous surprises. And not least among its +astonishments will be the disclosure of the immense debt that the world +owes to its first mates. And the first mates who never become skippers +will in that great day understand the reason why. And when they know +the reason why, they will be among the most thankful of the thankful. +It will be so much better for me to be applauded at the last as a good +and faithful first mate than to have to confess that, as skipper, I +drove the vessel on the rocks. + + + + +PART III + + +I + +WHEN THE COWS COME HOME + +I can see them now as they come, very slowly and in single file, down +the winding old lane. The declining sun is shining through the tops of +the poplars, the zest of daytime begins to soften into the hush and +cool of evening, when they come leisurely sauntering through the grass +that grows luxuriously beside the road. One after another they come +quietly along--Cherry and Brindle, Blossom and Darkie, Beauty and +Crinkle, Daisy and Pearl. A stranger watching them as they appear +round the bend of the pretty old lane fancies each of them to be the +last, and has just abandoned all hope of seeing another, when the next +pair of horns makes its unexpected appearance. They never hurry home; +they just come. A particularly tempting wisp in the long sweet grass +under the hedge will induce an instant halt. The least thing passing +along the road stops the whole procession; and they stare fixedly at +the intruder till he is well on his way. And then, with no attempt to +make up for lost time, they jog along at the same old pace once more. +It is good to watch them. When the whirl of life is too much for me; +when my brain reels and my temples throb; when the hurry around me +distracts my spirit and disturbs my peace; when I get caught in the +tumult and the bustle and the rush--then I like to throw myself back in +my chair for a moment and close my eyes. I am back once more in the +dear old lane among the haws and the filberts. I catch once more the +smell of the brier. I see again the squirrel up there in the oak and +the rabbit under the hedge. I listen as of old to the chirp of the +grasshopper in the stubble, to the hum of the bees among the foxgloves, +to the song of the blackbird on the hawthorn, and, best of all--yes, +best of all for brain unsteadied and nerve unstrung--I see the cows +coming home. + +It is a great thing to be able to believe the whole day long that, when +evening comes, the cows will all come home. That is the faith of the +milkmaid. As the day drags on she looks through the lattice window and +catches occasional glimpses of Cherry and Brindle, Blossom and Darkie, +Beauty and Crinkle, Daisy and Pearl. They are always wandering farther +and farther away across the fields; but she keeps a quiet heart. In +her deepest soul she cherishes a lovely secret. She knows that, when +the sunbeams slant through the tall poplar spires, the cows will all +come home. She does not pretend to understand the mysterious instinct +that will later on turn the faces of Cherry and Brindle towards her. +She cannot explain the wondrous force that will direct Blossom and +Darkie into the old lane, and guide them along its folds to the white +gate down by the byre. But where she cannot trace she trusts. And all +day long she clings to her sunny faith without wavering. She never +doubts for a moment that the cows will all come home. + +Is there anything in the wide world more beautiful than the confidence +of a good woman in the salvation of her children? For years they +cluster round her knee; she reads with them; prays with them; welcomes +their childish confidences. Then, one by one, away they go! The heat +of the day may bring waywardness, and even shame; but, like the +milkmaid watching the cows through the lattice, she is sure they will +all come home. Think of Susanna Wesley with her great family of +nineteen children around her. What a wonderful story it is, the tale +of her personal care and individual solicitude for the spiritual +welfare of each of them! And what a picture it is that Sir A. T. +Quiller-Couch has painted of the holy woman's deathbed! John arrives +and is welcomed at the door by poor Hetty, the prodigal daughter. + +'"The end is very near--a few hours perhaps!" Hetty tells him. + +'"And she is happy?" + +'"Ah, so happy!" Hetty's eyes brimmed with tears and she turned away. + +'"Sister, that happiness is for you, too. Why have you, alone of us, +so far rejected it?" + +'Hetty stepped to the door with a feeble gesture of the hands. She +knew that, worn as he was with his journey, if she gave him the chance +he would grasp it and pause, even while his mother panted her last, to +wrestle for and win a soul--not because she, Hetty, was his sister, but +simply because hers was a soul to be saved. Yes, and she foresaw that +sooner or later he would win; that she would be swept into the flame of +his conquest. She craved only to be let alone; she feared all new +experience; she distrusted even the joy of salvation. Life had been +too hard for Hetty.' And on another page we have an extract from +Charles's journal. 'I prayed by my sister, a gracious, tender, +trembling soul; a bruised reed which the Lord will not break.' + +The cows had all come home. The milkmaid's faith had not failed. + +The happiest people in the world, and the best, are the people who go +through life as the milkmaid goes through the day, believing that +before night the cows will all come home. It is a faith that does not +lend itself to apologetics, but, like the coming of the cows, it seems +to work out with amazing regularity. It is what Myrtle Reed would call +'a woman's reasoning.' It is _because_ it is. The cows will all come +home _because_ the cows will all come home. + + 'Good wife, what are you singing for? you know we've lost + the hay, + And what we'll do with horse and kye is more than I can say; + While, like as not, with storm and rain, we'll lose both corn + and wheat.' + She looked up with a pleasant face, and answered low and sweet, + There is a Heart, there is a Hand, we feel but cannot see; + We've always been provided for, and we shall always be.' + + 'That's like a woman's reasoning, we must because we must!' + She softly said, 'I reason not, I only work and trust; + The harvest may redeem the hay, keep heart whate'er betide; + When one door's shut I've always found another open wide. + There is a Heart, there is a Hand, we feel but cannot see + We've always been provided for, and we shall always be.' + + +The fact is that the milkmaid has a kind of understanding with +Providence. She is in league with the Eternal. And Providence has a +way of its own of keeping faith with trustful hearts like hers. I was +reading the other day Commander J. W. Gambier's _Links in my Life_, and +was amused at the curious inconsistency which led the author first to +sneer at Providence and then to bear striking witness to its fidelity. +As a young fellow the Commander came to Australia and worked on a +way-back station, but he had soon had enough. 'I was to try what +fortune could do for a poor man; but I believed in personal endeavour +and the recognition of it by Providence. _I did not know Providence_.' + +'I did not know Providence!' sneers our young bushman. + +'The cows will all come home,' says the happy milkmaid. + +But on the very same page that contains the sneer Commander Gambier +tells this story. When he was leaving England the old cabman who drove +him to the station said to him, 'If you see my son Tom in Australia, +ask him to write home and tell us how he's getting on.' 'I explained,' +the Commander tells us, 'that Australia was a big country, and asked +him if he had any idea of the name of the place his son had gone to. +He had not.' As soon as Commander Gambier arrived at Newcastle, in New +South Wales, he met an exceptionally ragged ostler. As the ostler +handed him his horse, Mr. Gambier felt an irresistible though +inexplicable conviction that this was the old cabman's son. He felt +absolutely sure of it; so he said: + +'Your name is Fowles, isn't it?' + +He looked amazed, and seemed to think that his questioner had some +special reason for asking him, and was at first disinclined to answer. +But Mr. Gambier pressed him and said, 'Your father, the Cheltenham +cab-driver, asked me to look you up.' + +He then admitted that he was the man, and Mr. Gambier urged him to +write to his father. All this on the selfsame page as the ugly sneer +about Providence! + +And a dozen pages farther on I came upon a still more striking story. +Commander Gambier was very unfortunate, very homesick, and very +miserable in Australia. He could not make up his mind whether to stay +here or return to England. 'At last,' he says, 'I resolved to _leave +it to fate_.' The only difference that I can discover between the +'_Providence_' whom Commander Gambier could not trust, and the '_fate_' +to which he was prepared to submit all his fortunes, is that the former +is spelt with a capital letter and the latter with a small one! But to +the story. 'On the road where I stood was a small bush grog-shop, and +the coaches pulled up here to refresh the ever-thirsty bush traveller. +At this spot the up-country and down-country coaches met, and I +resolved that I would get into whichever came in first, _leaving it to +destiny_ to settle. Looking down the long, straight track over which +the up-country coach must come, I saw a cloud of dust, and well can I +remember the curious sensation I had that I was about to turn my back +upon England for ever! But in the other direction a belt of scrub hid +the view, the road making a sharp turn. And then, almost +simultaneously, I heard a loud crack of a whip, and round this corner, +at full gallop, came the down coach, pulling up at the shanty not three +minutes before the other! I felt like a man reprieved, for my heart +was really set on going home; and I jumped up into the down coach with +a great sense of relief!' And thus Mr. Gambier returned to England, +became a Commander in the British Navy, and one of the most +distinguished ornaments of the service. He sneers at '_Providence_,' +yet trusts to '_fate_,' and leaves everything to '_destiny_'! The +milkmaid's may be an inexplicable confidence; but this is an +inexplicable confusion. Both are being guided by the same Hand--the +Hand that leads the cows home. She sees it and sings. He scouts it +and sneers. That is the only difference. + +Carlyle spent the early years of his literary life, until he was nearly +forty, among the mosshags and isolation of Craigenputtock. It was, +Froude says, the dreariest spot in all the British dominions. The +house was gaunt and hungry-looking, standing like an island in a sea of +morass. When he felt the lure of London, and determined to fling +himself into its tumult, he took 'one of the biggest plunges that a man +might take.' But in that hour of crisis he built his faith on one +great golden word. 'All things work together for good to them that +love God,' he wrote to his brother. And, later on, when his mother was +in great distress at the departure of her son, Alick, for America, +Carlyle sent her the same text. 'You have had much to suffer, dear +mother,' he wrote, 'and are grown old in this Valley of Tears; but you +say always, as all of us should say, "Have we not many mercies too?" +Is there not above all, and in all, a Father watching over us, through +whom all sorrows shall yet work together for good? Yes, it is even so. +Let us try to hold by _that_ as an anchor both sure and steadfast.' +Which is another way of saying, 'It is all right, mother mine. Let +them wander as they will whilst the sun is high; when it slants through +the poplars the cows will all come home!' + +The homeward movement of the cows is part of the harmony of the +universe. Man himself goeth forth, the psalmist says, unto his work +and to his labour until the evening. Until the evening--and then, like +the cows, he comes home. It is this sense of harmony between the +coming of the cows on the one hand, and all their environment on the +other, that gave Gray the opening thought for his 'Elegy in a Country +Churchyard': + + The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, + The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, + The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, + And leaves the world to darkness and to me. + +Here are two pictures--the tired ploughman and the lowing herd both +coming home; and the two together make up a perfect harmony. It is a +stroke of poetic genius. We are made to feel the weariness of the +tired ploughman in order that we may be able to appreciate the +restfulness of the evening, the solitude of the quiet churchyard, and +the cows coming slowly home. I blamed myself at the beginning for +sometimes getting caught in the fever and tumult of life; but then, if +I never knew such exhausting experiences, I should never be able to +enjoy the delicious stillness of the evening, I should never be able to +see the beauty of the herd winding so slowly o'er the lea. It is just +because the ploughman has toiled so hard, and done his work so well, +that his weariness blends so perfectly with the restfulness of the +dusk. For it is only those who have bravely borne the burden and heat +of the day who can relish the sweetness and peace of the twilight. It +is a man's duty to keep things in their right place. I do not mean +merely that he should keep his hat in the hall, and his book on the +shelf. I mean that, as far as possible, a man ought to keep his toil +to the daylight, and his rest to the dusk. + +Dr. Chalmers held that our three-score years and ten are really seven +decades corresponding with the seven days of the week. Six of them, he +said, should be spent in strenuous endeavour. But the seventh is the +Sabbath of the Lord thy God, and should be spent in Sabbatic quiet. +That ideal is not always capable of realization. For the matter of +that, it is not always possible to abstain from work on the Lord's Day. +But it is good to keep it before us as an ideal. We may at least +determine that, on the Sunday, we will perform only deeds of necessity +and mercy. And, in the same way, we may resolve that we will leave as +little work as possible to be done in the twilight of life. It was one +of the chiefest of the prophets who told us that 'it is good for a man +to bear the yoke in his youth.' If I were the director of a life +insurance company, I should have that great word blazoned over the +portal of the office. If, by straining an extra nerve in the heyday of +his powers, a man may ensure to himself some immunity from care in the +evening, he is under a solemn obligation to do so. The weary ploughman +has no right to labour after the cows come home. + +For, in some respects, the sweetest part of the day follows the coming +of the cows. I have a notion that most of the old folk would say so. +During the day they fancied that the cows had gone, to return no more. +But they all came home. 'And now,' says old Margaret Ogilvy, 'and now +it has all come true like a dream. I can call to mind not one little +thing I ettled for in my lusty days that hasna' been put into my hands +in my auld age. I sit here useless, surrounded by the gratification of +all my wishes and all my ambitions; and at times I'm near terrified, +for it's as if God had mista'en me for some other woman.' They +wandered long, that is to say, and they wandered far. But they all +came home--Cherry and Brindle, Blossom and Darkie, Beauty and Crinkle, +Daisy and Pearl--they all came home. Happy are all they who sing in +their souls the milkmaid's song, and never, never doubt that, when the +twilight gathers round them, the cows will all come home! + + + + +II + +MUSHROOMS ON THE MOOR + +Mr. G. K. Chesterton does not like mushrooms. That is the most +arresting fact that I have gleaned from reading, carefully and with +delight, his _Victorian Age in Literature_. In his treatment of +Dickens, he writes very contemptuously of 'that Little Bethel to which +Kit's mother went,' and he likens it to '_a monstrous mushroom_ that +grows in the moonshine and dies in the dawn.' Now no man who was +really fond of the esculent and homely fungus would have employed such +a metaphor by way of disparagement. I can only infer that Mr. +Chesterton thinks mushrooms very nasty. His opinion of Little Bethel +does not concern me. It is neither here nor there. But Mr. Chesterton +does not like _mushrooms_! I cannot get over that! + +I feel very sorry for Mr. Chesterton. It is not merely a matter of +taste. I would not presume to set my opinion in a matter of this kind +over against his. But the authorities are with me. I have looked up +the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and its opening sentence on the subject +affirms that 'there are few more delicious members of the vegetable +kingdom than the common mushroom.' I suppose that in these matters +association has a lot to do with it. I cannot forget those delicious +summer mornings in England when we boys, rising with the lark, stole +out of the house like so many burglars, and scampered with our baskets +across the fragrant meadows to gather the white buttons that dotted the +sparkling, dew-drenched grass. It was, as I have said in the +introduction to this book, a large part of childhood's radiant romance! +What tales our fancy wove into the fairy-rings under the elm-trees! We +lifted each moist fungus half expecting to see the brownies and the +elves fly from beneath it! And what fearsome care we took to include +no single hypocritical toadstool among our treasures! I am really +afraid that Mr. Chesterton would have been less conscientious. +Mushrooms and toadstools are all alike to him. He can never have had +such frolics in the fields as we enjoyed in those ecstatic summer +mornings. And he never, therefore, knew the fierce joy of the +breakfast that followed when, hungry as hunters, we returned with +flushed faces to feast upon the spoils of our boisterous foray. Over +such brave memories Mr. Chesterton cannot fondly linger. For Mr. +Chesterton does not like mushrooms. + +What would the Harvester have said to Mr. Chesterton? For, to Gene +Stratton Porter's hero, mushrooms were half-way to destiny. 'In the +morning, brilliant sunshine awoke him, and he arose to find the earth +steaming. + +'"If ever there was a perfect mushroom morning!" he said to his dog. +"We must hurry and feed the stock and ourselves, and gather some!" The +Harvester breakfasted, fed the stock, hitched Betsy to the spring +wagon, and went into the dripping, steamy woods. If any one had asked +him that morning concerning his idea of heaven, he would never have +dreamed of describing gold-paved streets, crystal pillars, jewelled +gates, and thrones of ivory. He would have told you that the woods on +a damp sunny May morning was heaven. He only opened his soul to +beauty, and steadily climbed the hill to the crest, and then down the +other side to the rich, half-shaded, half-open spaces, where big, rough +mushrooms sprang in a night.' + +Yes, a mushroom morning was heaven to the Harvester. And it was the +mushrooms that led him the first step of the way towards the discovery +of his dream-girl. The mushrooms represented the first of those golden +stairs by which he climbed to his paradise. And Mr. Chesterton does +not like mushrooms! What would the Harvester have said to Mr. +Chesterton? + +One faint, struggling glimmer of hope I am delighted to discover. Mr. +Chesterton likens _Little_ Bethel to a _monstrous_ mushroom. There can +be only one reason for this inartistic mixture of analogy and +antithesis. Mr. Chesterton evidently knows that a large mushroom is +not so sweet or so toothsome as a small one. A 'monstrous mushroom,' +even to those who like mushrooms, is coarse and less tasty. Now the +gleam of hope lies in the circumstance that Mr. Chesterton knows the +fine gradations of niceness (or nastiness) that distinguish mushrooms +of one size from mushrooms of another. As a rule, if you get to know a +thing, you get to like it. Mr. Chesterton is coming to know mushrooms. +He will soon be ordering them for breakfast. He may even come, like +certain tribes mentioned in the _Encyclopaedia_, to eat nothing else! +And by that time he may have come to know Little Bethel. And if he +comes to know it, he may come to like it. He will still liken it to a +mushroom. But we shall be able to tell, by the way he says it, that he +means that it is very good. We shall see at once that Mr. Chesterton +likes mushrooms. At present, however, the stern fact remains. Mr. +Chesterton does _not_ like mushrooms. Richard Jefferies, in his +_Amateur Poacher_, says that mushrooms are good either raw or cooked. +The great naturalist is therefore altogether on the side of the +_Encyclopaedia_. 'Some eat mushrooms raw, fresh as taken from the +ground, with a little salt; but to me the taste is then too strong.' +Perhaps that is how Mr. Chesterton has taken his mushrooms--_and Little +Bethel_!' Of the many ways of cooking mushrooms,' Richard Jefferies +goes on, 'the simplest is the best; that is, on a gridiron.' Mr. +Chesterton gives the impression that that is precisely how he would +prefer his mushrooms--_and Little Bethel_! For Mr. Chesterton does not +like mushrooms. + +The really extraordinary feature of the whole thing is that I like +mushrooms all the better for the very reason that leads Mr. Chesterton +to pour upon them his most withering and pitiless contempt. He hates +them because they spring up in the night. Little Bethel is a +'monstrous mushroom that grows in the moonshine.' It is perfectly true +that Little Bethel, like the mushrooms, flourished in the darkness. +Like Mark Tapley, she was at her brightest when her surroundings were +most dreary. In this respect both the meeting-house and the mushrooms +are in excellent company. Many fine things grow in the night. Indeed, +Sir James Crichton-Browne, the great doctor, in his lecture on 'Sleep,' +argues that all things that grow at all grow in the night. Night is +Nature's growing-time. Now Michael Fairless shared Richard Jefferies' +fondness for mushrooms. Every reader of _The Roadmender_ will recall +the night in the woods. 'Through the still night I heard the +nightingales calling, calling, calling, until I could bear it no +longer, and went softly out into the luminous dark. The wood was +manifold with sound. I heard my little brothers who move by night +rustling in grass and tree; and above and through it all the +nightingales sang and sang and sang! The night wind bent the listening +trees, and the stars yearned earthwards to hear the song of deathless +love. Louder and louder the wonderful notes rose and fell in a passion +of melody, and then sank to rest on that low thrilling call which it is +said Death once heard and stayed his hand. At last there was silence. +The grey dawn awoke and stole with trailing robes across earth's floor. +Gathering a pile of mushrooms--_children of the night_--I hasten home.' + +The nightingales--the _singers_ of the night! + +The mushrooms--the _children_ of the night! + +These _singers_ of the night, and these '_children_ of the night,' +almost remind me of Faber: + + Angels of Jesus, angels of light, + Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night! + +But Mr. Chesterton does not like 'the _children_ of the night.' + +Now we must really learn better manners. It will not do to treat +things contemptuously either because they spring up suddenly, or +because they spring up in the night. In this matter we Australians +live in glass houses and must not throw stones. Mr. Chesterton is +treading on our pet corns. For Australia and America are the two most +'monstrous mushrooms' on the face of the earth! Like the nations of +which the prophet wrote, they were 'born in a day.' Think of what +happened in America in the ten short years between 1830 and 1840! No +nation in the history of the world can produce so astounding a record! +In 1830 America had 23 miles of railway; in 1840 she had 800. In 1830 +the country presented all the wilder characteristics of early colonial +settlement; in 1840 it was a great and populous nation. In 1830 +Chicago was a frontier fort; in 1840 Chicago was a city. In 1830 the +population of Michigan was 32,000; in 1840 it was 212,000. It was +during this sensational decade, too, that the first steamships crossed +the Atlantic. And the spirit of the age reflected itself in the +literary wealth of which America became possessed at that extraordinary +time. Whittier and Longfellow, Oliver Wendell Holmes and Nathaniel +Hawthorne, Emerson and Bancroft, Poe and Prescott, all arose during +that eventful period, and made for themselves names that have become +classical and immortal. Here is a monstrous mushroom for you! Or, to +pass from the things of yesterday to the things of to-day, see how, +under the shadow of the Rocky Mountains, Canadian cities are in our own +time shooting up with positively incredible swiftness. No, no; Mr. +Chesterton must not speak disparagingly of mushrooms! + +And look at the rapidity at which these young nations beneath the +Southern Cross sprang into existence! I remember standing on the +sea-shore in New Zealand talking to a couple of old whalers, who told +me of the times they spent before the first emigrant ships arrived, +when they were the only white men for hundreds of miles around. And +now! Why, in their own lifetime these men had seen a great nation +spring into being! Here, I say again, are mushrooms for you! + +But do mushrooms really spring up as suddenly as they appear to do? +Dan Crawford tells us that, in Central Africa, if a young missionary +attempts to prove the existence of God, the natives laugh, and, +pointing to the wonders of Nature around, exclaim, '_No rain, no +mushrooms!_' In effect they mean to say, without some adequate cause. +If there were no God, whence came the forest and the fauna? Now that +African proverb is very suggestive. 'No rain, no mushrooms.' The +mushroom, that is to say, has its roots away back in old rainstorms, in +fallen forests, and in ancient climatic experiences too subtle to +trace. I have been reading Dr. Cooke's text-book, and he and Mr. +Cuthill have convinced me that it takes about a million years to grow a +mushroom. The conditions out of which the fungus suddenly springs are +as old as the world itself. And that same consideration saves America +and Australia from contempt. For both America and Australia--these +mushroom nations--are very, very old. Dr. Stanley Hall, the President +of the Clark University, was speaking on this aspect of things the +other day. 'In a very pregnant psychological sense,' he said, 'ours is +an unhistoric land. Our very constitution had a Minerva birth.' (That +is a classical way of saying that it had a mushroom birth.) 'Our +literature, customs, fashions, institutions, and legislation were +inherited or copied, and our religion was not a gradual indigenous +growth, but both its spirit and its forms were imported ready-made from +Holland, Rome, England, and Palestine. No country is so precociously +old for its years.' It follows, therefore, that Australia is as old as +the Empire. And the Empire has its roots away back where the first man +delved. We must not allow ourselves to be duped by the trickery of +appearances. These new things are very ancient. 'How long did it take +you to paint that picture?' somebody asked Sir Joshua Reynolds. '_All +my life!_' he replied. + +Anybody can grow fine flowers in the daytime. But what can you grow in +the dark? That is the challenge of the mushrooms--_what can you grow +in the dark_? 'The nights are the test!' as Charlotte Bronte used to +say. When things were as black as black could be, poor Charlotte +wrote: 'The days pass in a slow, dark march; the nights are the test; +the sudden wakings from restless sleep, the revived knowledge that one +sister lies in her grave, and another not at my side, but in a separate +and sick-bed. _The nights are the test_.' They are indeed. Tell me: +Can you grow faith, and restfulness, and patience, and a quiet heart in +the darkness? If so, you will never speak contemptuously of mushrooms +again. + +Why, dear me, some of the very finest things in this world of ours +spring up suddenly, like the mushroom, and spring up in the dark! Dean +Hole used to tell how he became a preacher. For years he could not +lift his eyes from his manuscript. Then, one Sunday evening, the light +suddenly failed. His manuscript was useless, and he found himself +speaking heart to heart to his people. The eloquence for which he was +afterwards famed appeared in a moment, and appeared in the dark! And I +am very fond of that story of the old American soldier. He was stone +blind, but very happy, and always wore his medal on his breast. + +'What do you do in these days of darkness?' somebody asked him. + +'Do?' he replied almost scornfully. 'Why, I thank God that for fifty +years I had the gift of sight. I saw Abraham Lincoln, and heard the +bugles call for the victory of Truth and Righteousness. I go back to +those scenes now, and realize them anew. I have lost my sight, but +_memory has been born again in the dark_.' + +If, therefore, we allow mushrooms to be treated with contempt, simply +because they spring up suddenly, and spring up in the night, we shall +soon find other beautiful things, much more precious, brought under the +same cruel condemnation. And what of a sudden conversion? Think of +_Down in Water Street_, and _Broken Earthenware_, and _Varieties of +Religious Experience_! What of that tremendous happening on the road +to Damascus? The Philippian jailer, too! See him, with a grim smile +of satisfaction, locking the apostles in their terrible dungeon; yet +before the night is through, he is tenderly bathing their stripes and +ministering to them with all the gentle graces of Christian courtesy +and compassion!' A monstrous mushroom that grew in the night,' would +you call it? At any rate, it did not die with the dawn. 'Minerva +births' these, with a vengeance. As for me, I have nothing but +reverence for the mushrooms. They are among the wonders of a very +wondrous world. + + + + +III + +ONIONS + +Just along the old rut-riddled road that winds through the bush on its +way to Bulman's Gully there lives a poor old man who fancies that he is +of no use in the world. I am going to send him an onion. I am +convinced that it will cure him of his most distressing malady. I +shall wrap it up in tissue paper, pack it in a dainty box, tie it with +silk ribbons, and post it without delay. No gift could be more +appropriate. The good man's argument is very plausible, but an onion +will draw out all its defects. He thinks, because he never hears any +voice trumpeting his fame or chanting his praise, that he is therefore +without any real worth or value to his fellow men. Could anything be +more preposterous? Who ever heard a panegyric in praise of onions? At +what concert was the song of the onion sung? Roses and violets, +daisies and daffodils, are the theme of every warbler; but when does +the onion come in for adulation? Run through your great poets and show +me the epic, or even the sonnet, addressed to the onion! Are we, +therefore, to assume that onions have no value in a world like this? +What a wealth of appetizing piquancy would vanish from our tables if +the onion were to come no more! As a relish, as a food, and as a +medicine, the onion is simply invaluable; yet no orator ever loses +himself in rhetorical transports in honour of onions! It is clearly +not safe to assume that because we are not much praised, we are +therefore of not much profit. And so I repeat my suggestion that if +any man is known to be depressed over his apparent uselessness, it +would be a service to humanity in general, and to that member of the +race in particular, to post him an onion. + +'I always bless God for making anything so strong as an onion!' +exclaimed William Morris, in a fine and characteristic burst of +fervour. That is the point: an onion is so strong. The very strength +of a thing often militates against applause. If a strong man lifted a +bag of potatoes we should think no more about it; but if a schoolboy +picked it up and ran off with it we should be speechless with +amazement. We take the strength of the strong for granted; it is the +strength of the weak that we applaud. If a man is known to be good or +useful or great, we treat his goodness or usefulness or greatness as +one of the given factors of life's intricate problem, and straightway +dismiss it from our minds. It is when goodness or usefulness or +greatness breaks out in unexpected places or in unexpected people that +we vociferously shout our praise. We applaud the singers at a concert +because it appeals to us as such an amazing and delightful incongruity +that so practical and prosaic a creature as Man should suddenly burst +into melody; but when the angels sang at Bethlehem the shepherds never +thought of clapping. The onion is therefore in company with the +angels. I am not surprised that the Egyptians accorded the onion +divine honours and carved its image on their monuments. I am prepared +to admit that onions do not move in the atmosphere of sentiment and of +poetry. Tears have been shed over onions, as every housewife knows. +Shakespeare speaks of the tears that live in an onion. But, as +Shakespeare implies, they are crocodile tears--without tenderness and +without emotion. Old John Wolcott, the satirist, tells how + + . . . . . . Master Broadbrim + Pored o'er his father's will and dropped the onioned tear. + +And Bernard Shaw writes of 'the undertaker's handkerchief, duly onioned +with some pathetic phrase.' No, onions do not lend themselves to +passion or to pathos. You would scarcely decorate the church with +onions for your sister's wedding, or plant a row of onions on a hero's +grave. And yet I scarcely know why. For, in a suitable setting, a +touch of warm romance may light up even so apparently prosaic a theme. +The coming of the swallows in the spring is scarcely a more delightful +event in Cornwall than the annual arrival of the onion-sellers from +Brittany. What a picturesque world we invade when we get among those +dreamy old fishing-villages that dot the Cornish coast! + + Gold mists upon the sea and sky, + The hills are wrapped in silver veils, + The fishing-boats at anchor lie, + Nor flap their idle orange sails. + +The wild and rugged sea-front is itself suggestive of rich romance and +reminiscent of bold adventure. The smugglers, the pirates, the +wreckers, and the Spanish mariners knew every bluff and headland +perfectly. And, however the world beyond may have changed, these tiny +hamlets have triumphantly defied the teeth of time. They know no +alteration. The brogue of the people is strange but rhythmic, and, +though pleasant to hear, very hard for ordinary mortals to understand. +The fisherfolk, with their strapping and stalwart forms, their bronzed +and weather-beaten features, their dark, idyllic eyes, their tanned and +swarthy skins, their odd and old-world garb, together with their +general air of being the daughters of the ocean and the sons of the +storm, seem to be a race by themselves. And he who tarries long enough +among them to become infected by the charm of their secluded and +well-ordered lives knows that one of the events of their uneventful +year is the coming of the onion-sellers from over the sea. The +historic connexion between Cornwall and Brittany is very ancient, and +is a romance in itself. The English and French coasts, as they face +each other there, are very much alike--broken, precipitous, and grand. +The peoples live pretty much the same kind of lives on either side of +the Channel. And when the onion-sellers come from France they are +greeted with enthusiasm by the Cornish people, and although they speak +their own tongue, they are perfectly understood. See! there is one of +the Breton onion-sellers lounging among a knot of fishermen near the +door of yonder picturesque old Cornish cottage, whilst the wife stands +in the open doorway, arms a-kimbo, listening as the foreigner tells of +the things that he has seen across the Channel since last he visited +this coast. And up the hill there, on the rickety old settle, beneath +the creaking signboard of the village inn, is another such group. As I +gaze upon these masculine but kindly faces I am half inclined to +withdraw my too hasty admission that onions have nothing about them of +sentiment, poetry, or romance. + +It always strikes me as a funny thing about onions that, however fond a +man may be of the onions themselves, he detests things that are +_oniony_. Give him onions, and he will devour them with magnificent +relish. But, through some slip in the kitchen, let his porridge or his +tea taste of onions, and his wry face is a sight worth seeing! A +friend of mine keeps a large apiary. One summer he was in great glee +at the immense stores of honey that his bees were collecting. Then, +one dreadful day, he tasted it. The dainty little square of comb, +oozing with the exuding fluid, was passed round the table. Horror sat +upon every face! It turned out that the bees had discovered a large +onion plantation some distance away, and had gathered their heavy +stores from that odorous and tainted source! What could be more +abominable, even to a lover of onions, than oniony honey? We remember +Thackeray and his oniony sandwiches. Now why is it possible for me to +love onions and to hate all things oniony? The fact is that the world +has a few vigorous, decided, elementary things that absolutely decline +to be modified or watered down. 'Onions is onions!' as a well-known +character in fiction remarked on a memorable occasion, and there is a +world of significance in the bald assertion. There are some things +that are as old as the world, and as universal as man, and that are too +vivid and pronounced to humble their pride or compromise their own +distinctive glory. The exquisite shock of the bather as his naked body +plunges into the flowing tide; the instinctive recoil on seeing for the +first time a dead human body; the delicious thrill with which the lover +presses for the first time his lady's lips; the terrifying roar of a +lion, the flaunting scarlet of a poppy, and the inimitable flavour of +an onion--these are among the world's most familiar quantities, the +things that decline to be modified or changed. You might as well ask +for an ice-cream with the chill off as ask for a diluted edition of any +of these vivid and primitive things. Onions may be regarded by a man +as simply delicious, but oniony honey or oniony tea! The bather's +plunge is a rapture to every stinging and startled nerve in his body, +but to stand ankle-deep in the surf, shivering with folded arms in the +breeze that scatters the spray! Life is full of delightful things that +are a transport to the soul if we take them as they are, but that +become a torment and an abomination if we water them down. And it is +just because Christianity itself is so distinctive, so outstanding, so +boldly pronounced a thing, that we insist on its being unadulterated. +Even a worldling feels that a Christian, to be tolerable, must be out +and out. The man who waters down his religion is like the shivering +bather who, feeling the cold, cold waters tickling his toes, cannot +muster up the courage to plunge; he is like the man who wants an +ice-cream with the chill off; he is like oniony honey or oniony tea! + +A man cannot, of course, live upon onions. Onions have their place and +their purpose, and, as I have said, are simply invaluable. But they +must be kept to that place and to that purpose. The modern tendency is +to eat nothing but onions. We are fast becoming the victims of a +perfect passion for piquancy. Time was when we expected our newspapers +to tell us the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. We +don't care a rap about the truth now, so long as they'll give us a +thrill. We must have onions. We used to demand of the novelist a +love-story; now he must be morbidly sexual and grimly sensational. Our +grandfathers went to a magic lantern entertainment and thought it a +furious frolic. And on Sundays they prayed. 'From lightning and +tempest; from plague, pestilence, and famine; from battle and murder, +and from sudden death, Good Lord, deliver us!' Their grandchildren +pray, 'From all churches and chapels, Good Lord, deliver us!' And, +during the week, they like to see all the blood-curdling horrors of +lightning and tempest; of plague, pestilence, and famine; of battle, +murder, and of sudden death, enacted before their starting eyes with +never a flicker to remind them that the film is only a film. The +dramas, the dances, and the dresses of the period fortify my +contention. The cry is for onions, and the stronger the better. It is +not a healthy sign. Mr. H. G. Wells, in his graphic description of the +changes that overcame Bromstead, and turned it from green fields into +filthy slums, says that he noticed that 'there seemed to be more boards +by the railway every time I passed, advertising pills and pickles, +tonics and condiments, and such-like solicitudes of a people with no +natural health or appetite left in them.' The pills, that is to say, +kept pace with the pickles. The more pickles Bromstead ate, the more +pills Bromstead wanted. That is the worst of the passion for piquancy. +The soul grows sick if fed on sensations. Onions are splendid things, +but you cannot live upon onions. Pickles inevitably lead to pills. + +But that is not all. For the trouble is that, if I develop an +inordinate appetite for onions, I lose all relish for more delicately +flavoured foods. The most impressive instance of such a dietary +tragedy is recorded in my Bible. 'The children of Israel wept and +said, "We remember the _onions_, but now there is nothing except _this +manna_ before our eyes!"' Onions seem to have a special connexion with +Egypt. Herodotus tells us that the men who built the Pyramids fed upon +onions, although the priests were forbidden to touch them. 'We +remember the onions!' cried the children of Israel, looking wistfully +back at Egypt, 'but now we have nothing but this manna!' The onions +actually destroyed their appetite for angels' food! That, I repeat, is +the most mournful aspect of our modern and insatiable passion for +piquancy. If I let my soul absorb itself in the sensational novel, the +hair-raising drama, and the blood-curdling film, I find myself losing +appreciation for the finer and gentler things in life. I no longer +glory, as I used to do, in the sweetness of the morning air and the +glitter of the dew-drenched grass; in the purling stream and the +fern-draped hills; in the curling waves and the twinkling stars. The +bound of the hare and the flight of the sea-bird lose their charm for +me. The world is robbed of its wonder and its witchery when my eyes +grow accustomed to the gaudy blinding glare. Jenny Lind was asked why +she renounced the stage. She was sitting at the moment on the sands by +the seaside, with her Bible on her knee. She pointed her questioner to +the setting sun, transforming the ocean into a sea of glory. 'I +found,' she said, 'that I was losing my taste for that, and'--holding +up her Bible--'my taste for this; so I gave it up!' She was a wise +woman. Onions are fine things in their own way. God has undoubtedly +left a place in His world for the strong, vivid, elemental things. But +they must be kept to that place. God has strewn the ground around me +with the food that angels eat, and I must allow nothing on earth to +destroy my taste for such sublime and wondrous fare. + + + + +IV + +ON GETTING OVER THINGS + +We get over things. It is the most amazing faculty that we possess. +War or pestilence; drought or famine; fire or flood; it does not +matter. However devastating the catastrophe, however frightful the +slaughter, however total the eclipse, we surmount our sorrows and find +ourselves still smiling when the storm is overpast. I remember once +penetrating into the wild and desolate interior of New Zealand. From a +jagged and lonely eminence I surveyed a landscape that almost +frightened one. Not a house was in sight, nor a road, nor one living +creature, nor any sign of civilization. I looked in every direction at +what seemed to have been the work of angry Titans. Far as the eye +could see, the earth around me appeared to have been a battle-field on +which an army of giants had pelted each other with mountains. The +whole country was broken, weird, precipitous, and grand. In every +direction huge cliffs towered perpendicularly about you; bottomless +abysses yawned at your feet; and every scarped pinnacle and beetling +crag scowled menacingly at your littleness and scowled defiance at your +approach. One wondered by what titanic forces the country had been so +ruthlessly crushed and crumbled and torn to shreds. Did any startled +eye witness this volcanic frolic? What a sight it must have been to +have watched these towering ranges split and scattered; to have seen +the placid snowclad heights shivered, like fragile vases, to fragments; +to have beheld the mountains tossed about like pebbles; to have seen +the valleys torn and rent and twisted; and the rivers flung back in +terror to make for themselves new channels as best they could! It must +have been a fearsome and wondrous spectacle to have observed the +slumbering forces of the universe in such a burst of passion! Nature +must have despaired of her quiet and sylvan landscape. 'It is ruined,' +she sobbed; 'it can never be the same again!' No, it can never be the +same again. The bright colours of the kaleidoscope do not form the +same mosaic a second time. But Nature has got over her grief, for all +that. For see! All up these tortured and angular valleys the great +evergreen bush is growing in luxurious profusion. Every slope is +densely clothed with a glorious tangle of magnificent forestry. From +the branches that wave triumphantly from the dizzy heights above, to +those that mingle with the delicate mosses in the valley, the verdure +nowhere knows a break. Even on the steep rocky faces the persistent +vegetation somehow finds for itself a precarious foothold; and where +the trees fear to venture the lichen atones for their absence. Up +through every crack and cranny the ferns are pushing their graceful +fronds. It is a marvellous recovery. Indeed, the landscape is really +better worth seeing to-day than in those tranquil days, centuries ago, +before the Titans lost their temper, and began to splinter the summits. + +Travellers in South America frequently comment upon the same +phenomenon. Prescott tells us how Cortes, on his historic march to +Mexico, passed through regions that had once gleamed with volcanic +fires. The whole country had been swept by the flames, and torn by the +fury of these frightful eruptions. As the traveller presses on, his +road passes along vast tracts of lava, bristling in the innumerable +fantastic forms into which the fiery torrent has been thrown by the +obstacles in its career. But as he casts his eye down some steep +slope, or almost unfathomable ravine, on the margin of the road, he +sees their depths glowing with the rich blooms and enamelled vegetation +of the tropics. His vision sweeps across plains of exuberant +fertility, almost impervious from thickets of aromatic shrubs and wild +flowers, in the midst of which tower up trees of that magnificent +growth which is found only in these latitudes. It is an intoxicating +panorama of brilliant colour and sweetest perfume. Kingsley and +Wallace, too, remark upon these great volcanic rents and gashes that +have been healed by verdure of rare magnificence and orchids of +surpassing loveliness. 'Even the gardens of England were a desert in +comparison! All around them were orange- and lemon-trees, the fruit of +which, in that strange coloured light of the fireflies, flashed in +their eyes like balls of burnished gold and emerald; while great white +tassels, swinging from every tree in the breeze which swept the glade, +tossed in their faces a fragrant snow of blossoms and glittering drops +of perfumed dew.' It is thus that, like the oyster that conceals its +scar beneath a pearl, Nature heals her wounds with loveliness. She +gets over things. + +And so do we. For, after all, the world about us is but a shadow, a +transitory and flickering shadow, of the actual and greater world +within us. Yes, the incomparably greater world within us; for what is +a world of grass and granite compared with a world of blood and tears? +What is the cleaving of an Alp compared with the breaking of a heart? +What is the sweep of a tornado, the roar of a prairie-fire, or the +booming thunder of an avalanche, compared with the cry of a child in +pain?' All visible things,' as Carlyle has taught us, 'are emblems. +What thou seest is not there on its own account; strictly speaking is +not there at all. Matter exists only spiritually, and to represent +some idea and body it forth.' The soul is liable to great volcanic +processes. There come to it tragic and tremendous hours when all its +depths are broken up, all its landmarks shattered, and all its streams +turned rudely back. For weal or for woe everything is suddenly and +strangely changed. Amidst the crash of ruin and the loss of all, the +soul sobs out its pitiful lament. 'Everything has gone!' it cries. 'I +can never be the same again! I can never get over it!' But Time is a +great healer. His touch is so gentle that the poor patient is not +conscious of its pressure. The days pass, and the weeks, and the +months, and the years. Like the trees that start from the rocky faces, +and the ferns that creep out of every cranny in the ruined horizon, new +interests steal imperceptibly into life. There come new faces, new +loves, new thoughts, and new sympathies. The heart responds to fresh +influences and bravely declines to die. And whilst the days that are +dead are embalmed in costliest spices, and lie in the most holy place +of the temple of memory, the soul discovers with surprise that it has +surmounted the cruel shock of earlier shipwreck, and can once more +greet the sea. + +I am writing in days of war. The situation is without precedent. A +dozen nations are in death-grips with each other. Twenty million men +are in the field. Every hour brings us news of ships that have been +sunk, regiments that have been annihilated, thousands of brave men who +have been slaughtered. Never since the world began were so many men +writhing in mortal anguish, so many women weeping, so many children +fatherless. And whilst a hundred thousand women know that they will +see no more the face that was all the world to them, millions of others +are sleepless with haunting fear and terrible anxiety. And every day I +hear good men moan that the world can never be the same again. 'We +shall never get over it!' they tell me. It is the old mistake, the +mistake that we always make in the hour of our sad and bitter grief. +'We shall never get over it!' Of course we shall! And as the fields +are sweeter, and the flowers exhale a richer perfume, after the +thunder-clouds have broken and the storm has spent its strength, so we +shall find ourselves living in a kindlier world when the anguish of +to-day is over-past. Much of our old civilization, with its veneer of +politeness and its heart of barbarism, will have been riven as the +ranges were riven by the earthquake. But out of the wreckage shall +come the healthier day. The wounds will heal as they always heal, and +the scars will stay as they always stay; but they will stay to warn us +against perpetuating our ancient follies. Empires will never again +regard their militarism as their pride. + +Surely this torrent of blood that is streaming through the trenches and +crimsoning the seas is sacrificial blood! It is an ancient principle, +and of loftiest sanction, that it is sometimes good for one man to die +that many may be saved from destruction. If, out of its present agony, +the world emerges into the peace and sunshine of a holier day, every +man who laid down his life in the awful struggle will have died in that +sacred and vicarious way. This generation will have wept and bled and +suffered that unborn generations may go scatheless. It is the old +story: + + No mortal born without the dew + Of solemn pain on mother's brow; + No harvest's golden yield save through + The toil and tearing of the plough. + +It was only through the Cross that the Saviour of men found a way into +the joy that was set before Him, and the world therefore cannot expect +to come to its own along a bloodless road. + +The recuperative forces that lurk within us are the divinest things +about us. I cut my hand; and, before the knife is well out of the +gash, a million invisible agents are at work to repair the damage. It +is our irrepressible faculty for getting over things. No minister can +have failed, at some time or other, to stand in amazement before it. +We have all known men who were not only wicked, but who bore in their +body the marks of their vice. It was stamped upon the face; it was +evident in the stoop of the frame; it betrayed itself in the shuffle +that should have been a stride. We have known such men, I say, and +heard their pitiful confessions. And the most heartrending thing about +them was their despair. They could believe that the love of God was +vast enough to find room for them; but just look! 'Look at me!' a man +said to me one night, remembering what he once was and surveying the +wreckage that remained, 'look at me!' And truly it was a sight to make +angels weep. 'I can never be the same again,' he said in effect, 'I +can never get over it!' But he did; and there is as much difference +between the man that I saw that night and the man who greets me to-day +as there was between the man whom he remembered and the man he then +surveyed. It is wonderful how the old light returns to the eye, the +old grace to the form, the old buoyancy to the step, and how, with +these, a new softness creeps into the countenance and a new gentleness +into the voice when the things that wound are thrown away and the +healing powers get their chance. It is only then that we really +discover the marvel of getting over things. + +Indeed, unless we are on our guard this magical faculty will be our +undoing. The tendency is, as we have seen, to return to our earlier +state, to recover from the change. And the forces that work in that +direction do not pause to ask if the change that has come about is a +change for the better or a change for the worse. They only know that a +cataclysmic change has been effected, and that it is their business to +help us back to our first and natural condition. But there are changes +that sometimes overtake us from which we do not wish to recover; and we +must be on ceaseless vigil against the well-meaning forces that only +live to abolish all signs of alteration. No man ever yet threw on his +old self and entered into new life without being conscious that +millions of invisible toilers were at work to undo the change that had +been effected. They are helping him to get over it, and he must firmly +decline their misdirected offices. + +'"Father!" said young Dr. Ralph Dexter to the old doctor in _The +Spinner in the Sun_, "father! it may be because I'm young, but I hold +before me, very strongly, the ideals of our profession. It seems to me +a very beautiful and wonderful life that is opening up before me, +always to help, to give, to heal. I feel as though I had been +dedicated to some sacred calling, some lifelong service. And service +means brotherhood." + +'"_You'll get over that!_" returned the old doctor curtly, yet not +without a certain secret admiration. "_You'll get over that_ when +you've had to engage a lawyer to collect your modest wages for your +uplifting work, the healed not being sufficiently grateful to pay the +healer. When you've gone ten miles in the dead of winter, at midnight, +to take a pin out of a squalling baby's back, why, you may change your +mind!"' + +And later on in the same story Myrtle Reed gives us another dialogue +between the two doctors. + +'"I may be wrong," remarked Ralph, "but I've always believed that +nothing is so bad that it can't be made better." + +'"The unfailing earmark of youth," the old man replies; "_you'll get +over that!_"' + +Old Dr. Dexter is quite right. Good or bad, the tendency is to get +over things. Many a man has entered his business or profession with +the highest and most roseate ideals, and the tragedy of his life lay in +the fact that he recovered from them. + +Yes, there is nothing that we cannot get over. Our recuperative +faculties know no limit. None of our diseases are incurable. I knew +an old lady who really thought that her malady was fatal. She fancied +that she could never recover. She even told me that the doctor had +informed her that her case was hopeless. She lay back upon her pillow, +and her snowy hair shamed the whiteness about her. 'I shall never get +over it,' she sighed, '_I shall never get over it!_' But she did. We +sang 'Rock of Ages' beside her sunlit grave this afternoon. + + + + +V + +NAMING THE BABY + +Wild horses shall not drag from me the wonderful secret that suggested +my theme. Suffice it to say that it had to do with the naming of a +baby. And the naming of a baby is really one of the most momentous +events upon which the sentinel stars look down. There is more in it +than a cursory observer would suppose. Tennyson recognized this when +his first son was born, the son who was destined to become the +biographer of his distinguished sire and the Governor-General of our +Australian Commonwealth. Whilst revelling in the proud ecstasies of +early fatherhood, he sought the companionship of his intimate friend, +Henry Hallam, the historian. They were strolling together one day in a +beautiful English churchyard. + +'What name do you mean to give him?' asked Hallam. + +'Well, we thought of calling him Hallam,' replied the poet. + +'Oh! had you not better call him Alfred, after yourself?' suggested the +historian. + +'Aye!' replied the naive bard, '_but what if he should turn out to be a +fool?_' + +Ah, there's the rub. It turned out all right, as it happened. The boy +was no fool, as the world very well knows; but if you examine the story +under a microscope you will discover that it is encrusted with a golden +wealth of philosophy. For the point is that the baby's name sets +before the baby a certain standard of achievement. The baby's name +commits the baby to something. Names, even in the ordinary life of the +home and the street, are infinitely more than mere tags attached to us +for purposes of convenience and identification. + +In describing the striking experiences through which he passed on being +made a freeman, Booker T. Washington, the slave who carved his way to +statesmanship, tells us that his greatest difficulty lay in regard to a +name. Slaves have no names; no authentic genealogy; no family history; +no ancestral traditions. They have, therefore, nothing to live up to. +Mr. Booker Washington himself invented his own name. 'More than once,' +he says 'I tried to picture myself in the position of a boy or man with +an honoured and distinguished ancestry. As it is, I have no idea who +my grandmother was. The very fact that the white boy is conscious +that, if he fails, he will disgrace the whole family record is of +tremendous value in helping him to resist temptations. And the fact +that the individual has behind him a proud family history serves as a +stimulus to help him to overcome obstacles when striving for success.' +Every student of biography knows how frequently men have been +restrained from doing evil, or inspired to lofty achievement, by the +honour in which a cherished memory has compelled them to hold the names +they are allowed to bear. Every schoolboy knows the story of the +Grecian coward whose name was Alexander. His cowardice seemed the more +contemptible because of his distinguished name; and his commander, +Alexander the Great, ordered him either to change his name or to prove +himself brave. + +I notice that the American people have lately been rudely awakened to a +recognition of the fact that a nation that can boast of a splendid +galaxy of illustrious names stands involved, not only in a great and +priceless heritage, but also in a weighty national responsibility. +Three citizens of the United States, bearing three of the most +distinguished names in American history, have recently figured with +painful prominence before the criminal courts of that country. 'It is +not rarely,' as a leading American journal remarks, 'that a man who has +acquired credit and reputation ruins his own good name by some act of +fraud or passion. It is much rarer that the case appears of one who +soils the good name of a distinguished father. But it is without +parallel that three names, borne by men the most famous in our annals, +should all have been so foully soiled by their sons.' And the pitiable +element in the case is not relieved by the circumstance that these +unhappy men have clearly inherited, with their fathers' names, +something of their fathers' genius. The fact is that American soil has +proved singularly congenial to the growth of greatness. The length of +America's scroll of fame is altogether out of proportion to the brevity +of her history. The stirring epochs of her short career have developed +a phenomenal wealth of leaders in all the arts and crafts of national +life. In statesmanship, in arms, in letters, and in inventive science, +she can produce a record of which many nations, very much older, might +be pardonably proud. And she therefore displays a perfectly natural +and honourable solicitude when she looks with serious concern on the +untoward happenings that have recently smudged some of those fair names +which she so justly regards as the shining hoard and cherished legacy +which have been bequeathed to her by a singularly eventful past. + +'Names!' exclaims Carlyle's Teufelsdrockh. 'Could I unfold the +influence of names, I were a second greater Trismegistus!' Names +occupy a place in literature peculiarly their own. From Homer +downwards, all great writers have recognized their magical value. The +most superficial readers of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ must have +noticed how liberally every page is sprinkled with capital letters. +The name of a god or of a hero blazes like an oriflamme in almost every +line. And Macaulay, in accounting for the peculiar charm of Milton, +says that none of his poems are more generally known or more frequently +repeated than those that are little more than muster-rolls of names. +'They are not always more appropriate,' he says, 'or more melodious +than other names. But they are charmed names. Every one of them is +the first link in a long chain of associated ideas. Like the +dwelling-place of our infancy revisited in manhood, like the song of +our country heard in a strange land, these names produce upon us an +effect wholly independent of their intrinsic value. One transports us +back to a remote period of history. Another places us among the novel +scenes and manners of a distant region. A third evokes all the dear, +classical recollections of childhood--the schoolroom, the dog-eared +Virgil, the holiday, and the prize. A fourth brings before us the +splendid phantoms of chivalrous romance--the trophied lists, the +embroidered housings, the quaint devices, the haunted forests, the +enchanted gardens, the achievements of enamoured knights, and the +smiles of rescued princesses.' + +To tell the whole truth, I rather suspect that Macaulay appreciated +this subtle art so highly in Milton because he himself had mastered the +trick so thoroughly. He knew what magic slumbered in that wondrous +wand. His own dexterity in conjuring with heroic names is at least as +marvellous as Milton's. In his _Victorian Age in Literature_, Mr. G. +K. Chesterton says that Macaulay felt and used names like trumpets. +'The reader's greatest joy is in the writer's own joy,' he says, 'when +he can let his last phrase fall like a hammer on some resounding names, +such as Hildebrand or Charlemagne, the eagles of Rome or the pillars of +Hercules. As with Sir Walter Scott, some of the best things in his +prose and poetry are the surnames that he did not make. That is +exactly where Macaulay is great. He is almost Homeric. The whole +triumph turns upon mere names.' We have all wondered at the uncanny +ingenuity that Bunyan and Dickens displayed in the manufacture of names +to suit their droll and striking characters; but we are compelled to +confess that Homer and Milton and Macaulay reveal a still higher phase +of genius, for they succeed in marshalling with rhythmic and dramatic +effect the actual names that living men have borne, and in weaving +those names into glorious pageants of extraordinary impressiveness and +splendour. + +It is very odd, the way in which history and prophecy meet and mingle +in the naming of the baby. A friend of mine has just named his child +after John Wesley. He has clearly done so in the fond hope that the +august virtues of the great Methodist may be duplicated and revived in +a generation that is coming. It is an ingenious device for +transferring the moral excellences of the remote past to the dim and +distant regions of an unborn future. The phenomenon sometimes becomes +positively pathetic. I remember reading, in the stirring annals of the +Melanesian Mission, of a native boy whom Bishop John Selwyn had in +training at Norfolk Island. He had been brought from one of the most +barbarous of the South Sea peoples, and did not promise particularly +well. One day Bishop Selwyn had occasion to rebuke him for his +stubborn and refractory behaviour. The boy instantly flew into a +passion and struck the Bishop a cruel blow in the face. It was an +unheard-of incident, and all who saw it stood aghast. The Bishop said +nothing, but turned and walked quietly away. The conduct of the lad +continued to be most recalcitrant, and he was at last returned to his +own island as incorrigible. There he soon relapsed into all the +debasements of a savage and cannibal people. Many years afterwards a +missionary on that island was summoned post-haste to visit a sick man. +It proved to be Dr. Selwyn's old student. He was dying, and desired +Christian baptism. The missionary asked him by what name he would like +to be known. 'Call me John Selwyn,' the dying man replied, 'because +_he taught me what Christ was like_ that day when I struck him.' + +We have a wonderful way of associating certain qualities with certain +names. The name becomes fragrant, not as the rose is fragrant, but as +the clay is fragrant that has long lain with the rose. I see that two +European newspapers have recently taken a vote as to the most popular +name for a boy and the most popular name for a girl. And in the result +the names of John and Mary hopelessly outdistanced all competitors. +But why? There is nothing in the name of John or in that of Mary to +account for such general attachment. Some names, like Lily, or Rose, +or Violet, suggest beautiful images, and are loved on that account. +But the name of John and the name of Mary suggest nothing but the +memory of certain wearers. How, then, are we to account for it? The +riddle is easily read. Long, long ago, on a green hill far away, there +stood by the cross of Jesus His mother, and the disciple whom Jesus +loved. And, when Mary left that awful and tragic scene, she left it, +as Jesus Himself desired that she should leave it, leaning on the arm +of John. And because those two were first in the human love of Jesus, +their names have occupied a place of special fondness in the hearts of +all men ever since. Like the fly held in the amber, the memory of +great and sterling qualities is encased and perpetuated in the very +names we bear. + +I like to dwell on that memorable scene that took place at the burial +of Longfellow. A notable company gathered at the poet's funeral; and, +among them, Emerson came up from Concord. His brilliant and majestic +powers were in ruins. He stood for a long, long time looking down into +the quiet, dead face of Longfellow, but said nothing. At last he +turned sadly away, and, as he did so, he remarked to those who stood +reverently by, 'The gentleman we are burying to-day was a sweet and +beautiful soul, _but I forget his name!_' Yes, that is the beauty of +it all. The name perpetuates and celebrates the memory of the +goodness; but the memory of the goodness lingers after the memory of +the name is lost. I shall enjoy the fragrance of the roses over my +lattice when I can no longer recall the names by which they are +distinguished. + +Mrs. Booth used to love to tell a beautiful story of a man whose +saintly life left its permanent and gracious impress upon her own. He +seemed to grow in grace and charm and in all nobleness with every day +he lived. At the last he could speak of nothing but the glories of his +Saviour, and his face was radiant with awe and affection whenever he +mentioned that holy name. It chanced that, as he was dying, a document +was discovered that imperatively required his signature. He held the +pen for one brief moment, wrote, and fell back upon the pillows, dead. +And on the paper he had written, not his own name, but the Name that is +above every name. Within sight of the things within the veil, that +seemed to be the only name that mattered. + + + + +VI + +THE MISTRESS OF THE MARGIN + +I love a margin. There is something delicious, luxurious, glorious in +the spacious field of creamy paper bounded by the black letterpress on +the one side and the gilt edges on the other. Could anything be more +abominable than a book that is printed to the uttermost extremities of +every page? It is an outrage, I aver, on human nature. Indeed, it is +an outrage upon Nature herself, for Nature loves her margins even more +than I do. She goes in for margins on a truly stupendous scale. She +wants a bird, so a dozen are hatched. She knows perfectly well that +eleven out of the twelve are merely margin. She will throw them to the +cats, and the foxes, and the weasels, and the snakes, and only keep the +best of the batch. She wants a tree, so she plants a hundred. She +knows that ninety and nine are margin, to be browsed down by cattle, +but she means to make sure of her one. 'The roe of a cod,' Grant Alien +tells me, 'contains nearly ten million eggs; but, if each of those eggs +produced a young fish which arrived at maturity, the whole sea would +immediately become a solid mass of closely packed cod-fish.' But +Nature has no intention of turning her bright blue ocean into a +gigantic box of sardines; she is simply providing herself with a +margin. Linnaeus says that a fly may multiply itself ten thousandfold +in a fortnight. If this increase continued during the three summer +months, he says, one fly at the beginning of summer would produce one +hundred millions of millions of millions before the three months were +over, and the air would be black with the horror. The probability, +however, is that there are never one hundred millions of millions of +millions of flies in the whole world. Nature is not arranging for a +repetition of the plague of Egypt; she is simply gratifying her +appetite for a margin. As Tennyson sings in 'In Memoriam,' + + of fifty seeds + She often brings but one to bear. + + +So I suppose I learned my love of margins from her. At any rate, if +anybody thinks me extravagant, they must quarrel with her and not with +me. + +I fancy there's a good deal in it. It is the margin that makes all the +difference. If the work that absolutely must be done occupies every +waking moment of my time, I am a slave; but if it leaves a margin of a +single hour, I am in clover. If my receipts will only just balance my +expenditure, I am living a mere hand-to-mouth existence; but if they +leave me a margin, I jingle the odd coins in my pocket with the pride +of a prince. Mr. Micawber's philosophy comes back to us. 'Annual +income--twenty pounds; annual expenditure--nineteen nineteen six; +result--_happiness_. Annual income--twenty pounds; annual +expenditure--twenty pounds ought and six; result--_misery_.' I believe +that one of the supreme aims of a man's life should be to secure a +margin. Nature does it, and we must copy her. A good life, like a +good book, should have a good margin. I hate books whose pages are so +crowded that you cannot handle them without putting your thumbs on the +type. And, in exactly the same way, there are very few things more +repelling than the feeling that a man has no time for you. It may be a +most excellent book; but if it has no margin, I shall never grow fond +of it. He may be a most excellent man; but if he lacks leisure, +restfulness, poise, I shall never be able to love him. + +It is difficult to account for it; but the fact most certainly is that +the most winsome people in the world are the people who make you feel +that they are never in a hurry. The man whom you trust most readily is +the man with a little time to spare, or who makes you think that he +has. When my life gets tangled and twisted, and I want a minister to +help me, I shall be too timid to approach the man who is always in a +fluster. I feel instinctively that he is far too busy for poor me. He +tears through life like a superannuated whirlwind. If I meet him on +the street, his coat tails are always flying out behind him; his eyes +wear a hunted look; and a sense of feverish haste is stamped upon his +countenance. He reminds me of poor John Gilpin, for it is always neck +or nothing with him. He seems to be everlastingly consulting his +watch, and is always muttering something about his next engagement. He +gets through an amazing number of odd jobs in the course of a day, and +his diary will be a wonder to posterity. But he would be much better +off in the long run if he cultivated a margin. He makes people feel at +present that he is too busy for them. A poor woman, who is in great +trouble about her son, heard him preach last Sunday, and felt that she +would give anything to have a quiet talk with him about her sorrow, and +kneel with him as he commended both her and her wayward boy to the +Throne of the heavenly grace. But she dreads to be caught in the whirl +of his week-a-day flurry, and stays away, her grief eating her heart +out the while. A shrinking young girl is in perplexity about her love +affairs, and she feels sure, from some things he said in his sermon a +few weeks ago, that he could help her. But she remembers that in his +study he keeps a motto to remind her that his time is precious. If the +words 'Beware of the dog!' were painted on his study door, they could +not be more terrifying. She fears that, before she has half unfolded +the tender tale that she scarcely likes to tell, his hand will be upon +the doorknob. The tendency of the time is indisputably towards +flurry--the flurry of business or the flurry of pleasure. I feel very +sorry for these busy folk. Their energy is prodigious. But, for all +that, they are losing life's best. Surely William Cowper had a secret +in his soul when he told us that, in his mad career, John Gilpin lost +the wine! + + 'And now, as he went bowing down, + His reeking head full low, + The bottles twain behind his back + Were shattered at a blow + + Down ran the wine into the road, + Most piteous to be seen, + Which made his horses' flanks to smoke + As they had basted been. + + +It is very easy to go too fast. In his _Forest_, Mr. Stewart White +gives us some lessons in bushmanship. 'As long as you restrain +yourself,' he says, 'to a certain leisurely plodding, you get along +without extraordinary effort; but even a slight increase of speed drags +fiercely at your feet. One good step is worth six stumbling steps; go +only fast enough to assure that good one. An expert woods-walker is +never in a hurry.' I was chatting the other day with the captain of a +great steamship. The vessel is capable of steaming at the rate of +seventeen knots an hour; but I noticed from the log that she never +exceeds fifteen. I asked the reason. 'It is too expensive!' the +captain answered. And then he told me the difference in the +consumption of coal between steaming at fifteen and steaming at +seventeen knots an hour. It was astounding. I recognized at once his +wisdom in keeping the margin. When I next meet my busy brother, I +shall tell him the story--if he can spare the time to listen. For, +apart from the expense to himself of driving the engines at that high +pressure, and apart from the loss of the wine, I feel sure that the +folk who most need him love the ministry of a man with a margin. Even +as I write, there rush back upon my mind the memories of the great +doctors and eminent lawyers whose biographies I have read. How careful +these busy men were to convey a certain impression of leisureliness! +It will never do for a doctor to burst in upon his poor feverish +patient, and throw everything into commotion. And see how composedly +the lawyer listens to his client's tale! Wise men these; and I must +not be too proud to learn from them. + +Great souls have ever been leisurely souls. I have no right to allow +the rush and throb and tear of life to rob me of my restfulness. I +must keep a quiet heart. I must be jealous of my margins. I must find +time to climb the hills, to scour the valleys, to explore the bush, to +row on the river, to stroll along the sands, to poke among the rocks, +and to fish in the stream. I must cultivate the friendship of the +fields and the ferns and the flowers. I must lie back in my easy +chair, with my feet on the fender, and laugh with my friends. And pity +me, men and angels, if I am too busy to romp with the children and to +tell them a tale if they want it! There are many things in a man's +life that he can give up, just as there are many things in a book that +can be skipped, but the last thing to go must be the margin. + +Now, rising from my desk for a moment, just to stretch my legs a +little, I glance out of my study window at the busy world outside. I +see men making bargains, reading newspapers, and talking politics. And +really, when you come to analyse the thing, this matter of the margin +touches that bustling world at every point. To begin with, the +essential difference between life here in Australia and life in the old +world is mainly a difference in the breadth of the margin. Here life +is not so hemmed in and cramped up as it must of necessity be there. +Then, too, the whole tendency of modern legislation is in the direction +of widening the margin. Everything tends to increase the leisure of +the people. Early closing has come into its own. Shopkeepers put up +their shutters quite early in the evening; the hours of the labourer +have been considerably curtailed; and in other ways the leisure of the +people has been greatly increased. Now in this broadening of life's +margin there lie both tremendous possibilities and tremendous perils. +The idleness of an entire community during a considerable proportion of +its waking hours may become a huge national asset or a serious menace +to the general wellbeing. People are too apt to suppose that character +is determined by the main business of life. It is a fallacy. It is, +as I have said, the margin that really matters. There is a section of +time that remains to a man after the main business of life has been +dealt with. It is the use to which that margin is put that reveals the +true propensities of the individual and that, in the long run, +determines the destiny of the nation. + +Here, for example, are two bricklayers. They walk down the street side +by side on their way to their work. From the time that the hour +strikes for them to commence operations until the time comes to lay +aside their trowels for the day, they are pretty much alike. The one +may be a philosopher and the other a scoundrel; but these traits will +have small opportunity of betraying themselves as they chip away at the +bricks in their hands, and ply their busy tasks. The intellectual +proclivities of the one, and the vicious propensities of the other, +will be held in the severest restraint as they labour side by side. +The inexorable laws of industrial competition will keep their work up +to a certain standard of excellence. But the moment that the tools are +thrown aside the character of each man stands revealed. He is his own +master. He is like a hound unleashed, and will now follow his bent +without let or hindrance. And the more the State restricts the hours +of toil, and multiplies the hours of leisure, the more does it increase +the possibilities of good in the one case and the perils of evil-doing +in the other. It is during that lengthened leisure that the one will +apply himself to self-improvement, and, by developing himself, will +increase the value of his citizenship to the State; and it is during +that prolonged immunity from restraint that the other will compass his +own deterioration and exert his influence for the general +impoverishment. + +Precisely the same law holds good in relation to the expenditure of +money. The way in which a people spends its money represents the most +crucial test of national character. If a man spends his money wisely, +he is a wise man; if he spends his money foolishly, he is a foolish +man. But it is not along the main line of expenditure that the +revelation is made. The principal items of expenditure are inevitable, +and beyond the control of the individual, whoever or whatever he may +be. A man must eat and wear clothes, whether he be a burglar or a +bishop. The butcher, the baker, the grocer, and the milkman will call +at every door; and you cannot argue as to the morals of a man from the +fact that he eats bread, that he is fond of beef, or that he takes +sugar with his porridge. There are certain main lines of expenditure +along which each man, whatever his characteristics and idiosyncrasies, +is resistlessly driven. But after he has submitted to this stern +compulsion, and has paid his butcher, his baker, his grocer, and his +milkman, then comes the test. What about the margin? Is there a +margin? For upon the margin everything depends. We will suppose that, +after paying for the things that he eats and the things that he wears, +he still jingles in his pocket a dozen coins, with which he may do +exactly as he likes. Now it is in the expenditure of that margin of +money--as, in the other case, it was in the expenditure of that margin +of leisure--that the real man will reveal himself. It is the use to +which he puts that margin that declares his true character and +determines the contribution that he, as an individual citizen, will +make to the national weal or woe. + +Now, if this broadening margin means anything at all, it means that the +responsibilities of the Church are increasing. For the Church is +essentially the Mistress of the Margin. Concerning the expenditure of +the hours occupied with labour, and concerning the money spent in the +actual requisites of life, the statesman may have something to say. +Legislation may deal with the hours of labour and the rate of wages. +It may even influence the precise amount of the butcher's or the +baker's bills. But when it comes to the hours that follow toil, and to +the cash that remains after the principal accounts have been paid, the +legislator finds himself in difficulties. He has come to the end of +his tether. He cannot direct the people as to how to spend their spare +cash. And, as we have seen, it is just this spare time and spare cash +that determine everything. It is the dominating and deciding factor in +the whole situation. It is manifest, therefore, that, important as are +the functions of statesmanship, the really fundamental factors of +individual conduct and of national life elude the most searching +enactments of the most vigilant legislators. As the hours of labour +shorten, and the margin of spare cash increases, the authority of the +legislator becomes less and less; and the need for some force that +shall shape the moral tone of the people becomes greater and greater. +If the Church cannot supply that force, and become the Mistress of the +Margin, the outlook is by no means reassuring. On one phase of this +matter of the margin the Church holds a wonderful secret. She knows +that there are people who, through no fault of their own, are +marginless. They have neither a moment nor a penny to spare. +Sickness, trouble, and the war of the world have been too much for +them. They are right up against the wall; and they know it. But the +matter does not end there. I remember once entering a dingy little +dwelling in the slums of London. In the squalid room a cripple girl +sat sewing, and as she sewed she sang: + + My Father is rich in houses and lands, + He holdeth the wealth of the world in His hands! + Of rubies and diamonds, of silver and gold, + His coffers are full--He has riches untold. + I'm the child of a King! the child of a King! + With Jesus my Saviour, I'm the child of a King! + +What did this mean but that she had discovered that her cramped and +narrow life had a spacious white margin after all? In a recent speech +at Glasgow, Mr. Lloyd George told a fine story of a quaint old Welsh +preacher who was conducting the funeral service of a poor old fellow, a +member of his church, who, through no fault of his own, had had a very +bad time of it. They could hardly find a space in the churchyard for +his tomb. At last they got enough to make a brickless grave amidst +towering monuments that pressed upon it, and the old minister, standing +above it, said, 'Well, Davie, vach, you have had a narrow time right +through life, and you have a very narrow place in death; but never you +mind, old friend, I can see a day dawning for you when you will rise +out of your narrow bed, and find plenty of room at the last. Ah!' he +cried in a burst of natural eloquence, 'I can see it coming! I can see +the day of the resurrection! I can see the dawn of immortality! There +will be room, room, room, even for the poor! The light of that morning +already gilds the hilltops!' What did he mean, that old Welsh +minister, as he shaded his eyes with his hands and looked towards the +East? He was pointing away from life's black and crowded letterpress +to the white and spacious margin--the margin with the gilt edge--that +was all. + + + + +VII + +LILY + +I was once advised to write a novel. I scouted the suggestion at the +time; I scout it still. If you write a novel, you run a great risk. +One of these days somebody may read it--you never know what queer +things people may do nowadays. And if somebody should read it, your +secret is out, and the paucity of your imagination stands grimly +exposed. No, I shall not write a novel, although this article will be +something in the nature of a novelette. For I have found a heroine, +and many a full-blown novelist, having found a heroine, would consider +that he had come upon a novel ready made. My heroine is Lily; and +Lily--to break the news gently--was a pig. I say _was_ advisedly, for +Lily is dead, and therein lies the pathos of my story. And so I have +my heroine, and I have my story, and I have my strong suffusion of +sentiment all ready to my hand; and really, I feel half inclined to +write my novel after all. But let me state the facts--for which I am +prepared to vouch--and then it will be time enough to see if we can +weave them into a great and classical romance. + +Away on the top of a hill, in a rural district of Tasmania, there +stands a quaint little cottage. Down the slopes around, and away along +the distant valleys, are great belts of virgin bush. But here on the +hill is our quaint little cottage, and in or about the cottage you will +find a quaint little couple. They may not be able to discuss the +latest aspects of the Balkan question, or the Irish crisis, or the +Mexican embroglio; but they can discuss questions that are very much +older and that are likely to last very much longer. For they can +discuss fowls and sheep and pigs; and, depend upon it, fowls and sheep +and pigs were discussed long before the Balkan question was dreamed of, +and fowls and sheep and pigs will be discussed long after the Balkan +question is forgotten. And so the old couple make you feel ashamed of +your simpering superficiality; you are amazed that you can have grown +so excited about the things of a moment; and you blush for your own +ignorance of the things that were and are and shall be. Yes, John and +Mary can discuss fowls, for they have a dozen of them, and they call +each bird by name. Whilst poor Mary's back was turned for a moment the +rooster flew on to the table. + +'Really, Tom, you naughty boy!' she cried, on discovering the outrage. +'I am ashamed of you!' And to impress the whole feathered community +with the enormity of the offence, she proceeded to drive them all out +of the kitchen. + +'Go on, Lucie,' she cried, a note of sadness betraying itself in her +voice in spite of her assumed severity. 'Go on, Lucie,' and she +flapped her apron to show that she meant it, much as an advancing army +might defiantly flutter its flag. 'Go on; and you too, Minnie; and +Nellie, and Kate, and Nancie; you must all go! It was a dreadful thing +to do; I don't know what you were thinking of, Tom!' I said that John +and Mary could discuss sheep; but their flock was a very limited one, +for it consisted entirely of Birdie, the pet lamb. I cannot +tell--probably through some defect in my imagination--why they called +him 'Birdie,' nor, for the matter of that, why they called him a lamb. +I can imagine that he may have been a lamb once; but of feathers I +could discover no trace at all. Yes, after all, these are prosaic +details, and only show how incompetent a novelist I should prove to be. +I grovel when I ought to soar. John and Mary were very fond of Birdie, +and Birdie was very fond of them. He came trotting up when he was +called, wagging his long tail as though it were proof positive that he +was still a lamb. It was scarcely a triumph of logic on Birdie's part, +and yet it was just about as good as the artistic subterfuges by which +lots of us try to convince the world and his wife that we are still in +the charming stage of lamb-like simplicity. And then there was Lily. + +The old couple were very fond of Lily. How carefully they made her bed +on cold nights! How considerately they fed her on boiled potatoes, +skim milk, and other wondrous delicacies! She, too, came shambling up +whenever she heard her name, and, with a grunt, acknowledged their +bounty. 'Dear old Lily,' poor Mary exclaimed fervently, as Lily lifted +her snout to be rubbed, and looked with queer, piggish eyes into those +of her doting mistress. + +Yes, Lily was a pig, but she was none the worse for that; and if any +ridiculous person objects to my taking a pig for my heroine, I shall +take offence and write no more novels. Lily, I repeat, was none the +worse for being a pig. And I am sure that John and Mary were none the +worse for loving her. It is always safe to love, for if you love that +which cannot profit by your love, your love comes back to you, like +Noah's dove, and you yourself are none the poorer. But I am not at all +sure that affection was wasted on Lily. Why should it be? There is no +disgrace in being born a pig. It did not even show bad taste on Lily's +part, for Lily was not asked. She came; and found, on arrival, that +she was what men called a pig; and as a pig she performed her part so +well that those who knew her grew very fond of her. What more can the +best of us do? And, after all, why this squeamishness? Why this +revulsion of feeling when I announce that my heroine is a pig? I aver +that it is a species of snobbery--a very contemptible species of +snobbery. Booker Washington used to declare that a high-grade +Berkshire boar, or a Poland China sow, is one of the finest sights on +this planet. And one of our own philosophers has gone into rhapsodies +over the pig. 'Pigs,' he says, 'always seem to me like a fallen race +that has seen better days. They are able, intellectual, inquisitive +creatures. When they are driven from place to place, they are not +gentle or meek, like cows and sheep, who follow the line of least +resistance. The pig is suspicious and cautious; he is sure that there +is some uncomfortable plot on foot, not wholly for his good, which he +must try to thwart if he can. Then, too, he never seems quite at home +in his deplorably filthy surroundings; he looks at you, up to the knees +in ooze, out of his little eyes as if he would live in a more cleanly +way if he were permitted. Pigs always remind me of the mariners of +Homer, who were transformed by Circe; there is a dreadful humanity +about them, as if they were trying to endure their base conditions +philosophically, waiting for their release.' All this I entreat my +critic to lay well to heart before he judges me too severely for +selecting Lily as my heroine. + +I suppose the truth is, if only my supercilious critics could be +trusted to tell the whole truth, that Lily is not good-looking enough +for them. But that, again, is all a question of taste. Beauty is +relative and not absolute. My critics may themselves be at fault. The +real trouble may be, not want of comeliness in Lily, but a sad lack of +appreciation in themselves. I notice that the champion Yorkshire sow +at the Sydney Show this year was Mr. E. Jenkins' 'Queen of Beauty'; and +as I gazed upon her photograph and noted her alluring name, I thought +once more of Lily and laughed in my sleeve at my critics. I once spent +a week with an old Lincolnshire gentleman at Kirwee, in New Zealand; +and almost before I had been able to bolt the meal that awaited my +arrival, he begged me to come and see the pigs. And at the very first +animal to which we came my happy host rubbed his hands in an ecstasy of +pride, whilst his eyes fairly sparkled. 'Bean't he a beauty?' he asked +me excitedly. And I answered confidently that he was. I could see at +a glance that the pig was a beauty _to him_; and if he was a beauty to +him, he _was_ a beauty, and there remained no more to be said. I +remember reading a story of two ministers who met beneath the +hospitable roof of an old-fashioned English farm-house. One of them no +sooner approached the table than he uttered an exclamation of delight. +Picking up one of the cups, he spoke of the wonderful beauty of the +china. He held the plates up to the light and asked the others to see +how thin they were, and went into ecstasies over the wondrous old china +that had been in the farm-house for many generations. The other took +little interest in his talk, and could not be aroused to enthusiasm +over the china; but when the farmer took out of his cupboard some old +books, one of which was a black-letter commentary, he became excited. +He turned the pages over lovingly, and pointed to the quaint initials, +and became eloquent over their beauties. The farmer thought both men +silly. Neither the china nor the books seemed precious to him. 'What +a heap o' nonsense ye be talking surely,' he said. 'Now if ye want to +see something worth seeing, come along o' me, and I'll show you the +finest litter o' pigs in the country.' + +I know, of course, that, beaten at every other point, my critics will +take their stand on dietetic grounds. 'How can you have a pig for your +heroine?' they will ask, with their noses turned up in disgust. 'See +what a pig _eats_!' Now I confess that this objection did appear to me +to be serious until I went into the matter a little more carefully. +Before abandoning poor Lily, and consigning her to everlasting +obscurity, it seemed to me that I owed it to her, as a matter of common +gallantry, to investigate this charge. An author has no more right +than any other man to toy with feminine affections; and having pledged +myself to Lily as my heroine, I dared not commit a breach of promise, +save on most serious grounds. Into this matter of Lily's diet I +therefore plunged, with results that have surprised myself. I find +that Lily is the most fastidious of eaters. Experiments made in Sweden +show that, out of 575 plants, the goat eats 449, and refuses 126; the +sheep, out of 528 plants, eats 387, and refuses 141; the cow, out of +494 plants, eats 276, and refuses 218; the horse, out of 474 plants, +eats 262, and refuses 212; whilst the pig, out of 243 plants, eats 72, +and refuses 171. From all these fiery ordeals my heroine, therefore, +emerges triumphant, and her critics cut a sorry figure. Theirs is the +melancholy fate of all those who will insist on judging from +appearances. It is the oldest mistake in the world, and it is +certainly the saddest. Many, like Lily, have been judged hastily and +falsely, and, as in Lily's case, the evil thought has clung to them as +though it were a charge established, and under that dark cloud they +have lived shadowed and embittered lives. Half the pathos of the +universe lies just there. + +One thing affords me unbounded pleasure. If I take Lily for my heroine +after all, I shall be following a noble precedent--Michael Fairless, in +_The Roadmender_, did something very much like it. 'In early spring,' +she says, 'I took a long tramp. Towards afternoon, tired and thirsty, +I sought water at a little lonely cottage. Bees worked and sang over +the thyme and marjoram in the garden; and in a homely sty lived a +solemn black pig, a pig with a history. It was no common utilitarian +pig, but the honoured guest of the old couple who lived there; and the +pig knew it. A year before, their youngest and only surviving child, +then a man of five-and-twenty, had brought his mother the result of his +savings in the shape of a fine young pig. A week later he lay dead of +the typhoid. Hence the pig was sacred, cared for, and loved by this +Darby and Joan. + +'"'E be mos' like a child to me and the mother, an' mos' as sensible as +a Christian, 'e be," the old man said.' + +What a world of illusion this is, to be sure! It takes a good pair of +eyes to see through its good-humoured trickery. You see a pig turning +this way and that way as he wanders aimlessly about the yard, and you +never dream of romance. And yet that pig is none other than Lily! You +see another pig in a commonplace sty, and you never dream of pathos; +but old Joan wipes a tear from her eye with her apron when she +remembers how that pig came into her possession. There is a world of +poetry in pig-sties. Yes, and pathos, too, of its kind. For, as I +said, Lily is dead. It was this way. + +John and Mary are not rich; and a pig is a pig. + +'What about Lily, Mary?' John asked awkwardly one day. 'You see, Mary, +she's got to die. If we keep her, she'll die. And if we sell her, +she'll only die. If we keep her, Mary, she may die of some disease, +and we shall see her in pain. If we sell her, she will die suddenly, +and feel no pain. And then, Mary,' he continued slowly, as though +afraid to introduce so prosaic an aspect of so pathetic a theme, 'and +then, Mary, if she dies here, look at the loss, for Lily's a pig, you +know! And if we sell her, look at the gain! And with part of the +money we can get another pet, and be just as fond of it.' + +There were protests and there were tears, but Lily went to market. + +Awhile afterwards John came home from the city with a parcel. 'Mary,' +he said hesitatingly, 'I've brought ye home a bit o' Lily! I thought +I'd like to see how she'd eat.' + +Next morning at breakfast they neither of them ate heartily, but they +both tasted. There is food that is too sacred for a glut of appetite. + +'Ah, well,' said John, at last, 'those who eat Lily will none of them +say anything but good of her, that's _one_ comfort.' + +And Mary went silently off to see if she could find _another_. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MUSHROOMS ON THE MOOR*** + + +******* This file should be named 24134.txt or 24134.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/1/3/24134 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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