of my head; and there are other matters, too, of the same kind which I
need not further particularise.

Of course, it may be said that the knot is best cut by refusing to have
anything to do with any of these things. I suppose that if one was
strong-minded and resolute one would behave like Gallio, who drove the
disputants from his judgment-seat. But I have a tenderness for these
people, and a certain conscience in the matter, so that I do not feel
it would be right to refuse. Yet I do not quite know upon what basis I
feel that there is a duty about it. I do not undertake these tasks as a
Christian. The only precedent that I can find in the Gospel which bears
on the matter would seem to justify my refusing to have anything to do
with it all. When the two men came to Christ about a question of an
inheritance, he would not do what they asked him. He said, "Man, who
made me a judge or a divider between you?" Again, I do not do it as a
gentleman, because there is no question of personal honour involved. I
only do it, I think, because I do hot like refusing to do what I am
asked to do, because I wish to please people--a muddled sort of
kindliness.

But the whole question goes deeper than that. I suppose that tasks such
as these fall in the way of all human beings, whatever their motives
for undertaking them may be. How can one do them, and yet not let them
disturb one's tranquillity? The ordinary moralist says, "Do what you
think to be right, and never mind what people say or think." But
unfortunately I do mind very much. I hate coldnesses and
misunderstandings. They leave me with a sore and sensitive feeling
about my heart, which no amount of ingenious argument can take away. I
suppose that one ought to conclude that these things are somehow or
other good for one, that they train one in patience and wisdom. But