irritation of the nervous system, but a constant distress to those
who come under this serious care. This is taking life _au grand
serieux_. The superficiality of this attitude is striking, and would
be surprising could the sufferer from such seriousness once see
himself (or more often it is herself) in a clear light. It is quite
common to call such a person over-serious, when in reality he is not
serious enough. He or she is laboring under a sham seriousness, as
an actor might who had such a part to play and merged himself in the
character. These people are simply exaggerating their own importance
to life, instead of recognizing life's importance to them. An
example of this is the heroine of Mrs. Ward's "Robert Elsmere," who
refused to marry because the family could not get on without her;
and when finally she consented, the family lived more happily and
comfortably than when she considered herself their leader. If this
woman's seriousness, which blinded her judgment, had been real
instead of sham, the state of the case would have been quite clear
to her; but then, indeed, there would have been no case at all.

When seriousness is real, it is never intrusive and can never be
overdone. It is simply a quiet, steady obedience to recognized laws
followed as a matter of course, which must lead to a clearer
appreciation of such laws, and of our own freedom in obeying them.
Whereas with a sham seriousness we dwell upon the importance of our
own relation to the law, and our own responsibility in forcing
others to obey. With the real, it is the law first, and then my
obedience. With the sham, it is myself first, and then the laws; and
often a strained obedience to laws of my own making.

This sham seriousness, which is peculiarly a New England trait, but
may also be found in many other parts of the world, is often the