any career is justified by success in that career. And as long as a
man attains a certain measure of renown we do not question very
much the nature of his aims.

Then, again, if we put that all aside, and look upon life as a
thing that is given us to teach us something, it is easy to think
that it does not matter very much what we do; we take the line of
least resistance, and think that we shall learn our lesson somehow.

It is difficult to believe that our one object ought to be to
thwart all our own desires and impulses, to abstain from doing what
we desire to do, and to force ourselves continually to do what we
have no impulse to do. That is a philosophical and stoical
business, and would end at best in a patient and courteous
dreariness of spirit.

Neither does it seem a right solution to say: "I will parcel out my
energies--so much will I give to myself, so much to others." It
ought to be a larger, more generous business than that; yet the
people who give themselves most freely away too often end by having
very little to give; instead of having a store of ripe and wise
reflection, they have generally little more than an official smile,
a kindly tolerance, a voluble stream of commonplaces.

And then, too, it is hard to see, to speak candidly, what God is
doing in the matter. One sees useful careers cut ruthlessly short,
generous qualities nullified by bad health or minute faults,
promise unfulfilled, men and women bound in narrow, petty,
uncongenial spheres, the whole matter in a sad disorder. One sees
one man's influence spoilt by over-confidence, by too strong a