sense of his own significance, and another man made ineffective by
diffidence and self-distrust. The best things of life, the most
gracious opportunities, such as love and marriage, cannot be
entered upon from a sense of duty, but only from an overpowering
and instinctive impulse.

Is it not possible to arrive at some tranquil harmony of life, some
self-evolution, which should at the same time be ardent and
generous? In my own sad unrest of spirit, I seem to be alike
incapable of working for the sake of others and working to please
myself. Perhaps that is but the symptom of a moral disease, a
malady of the soul. Yet if that is so, and if one once feels that
disease and, suffering is not a part of the great and gracious
purpose of God--if it is but a failure in His design--the struggle
is hopeless. One sees all around one men and women troubled by no
misgivings, with no certain aim, just doing whatever the tide of
life impels them to do. My neighbour here is a man who for years
has gone up to town every day to his office. He is perfectly
contented, absolutely happy. He has made more money than he will
ever need or spend, and he will leave his children a considerable
fortune. He is kind, respectable, upright; he is considered a
thoroughly enviable man, and indeed, if prosperity and contentment
are the sign and seal of God's approbation, such a man is the
highest work of God, and has every reason to be an optimist. He
would think my questionings morbid and my desires moonshine. He is
not necessarily right any more than I; but his theory of life works
out a good deal better for him than mine for me.

Well, we drift, we drift! Sometimes the sun shines bright on the
wave, and the wheeling birds dip and hover, and our heart is full