bewildering, unpractical, emotional man. The miller would not have
felt the appeal of unselfishness and unworldliness, because his
ideal of life is tranquil prosperity. He would have merely wondered
why people could not hold their tongues and mind their business:
and yet he is a model citizen, and would be deeply annoyed if he
were told he were not a sincere Christian. He accepts doctrinal
statements as he would accept mathematical formulae, and he takes
exactly as much of the Christian doctrine as suits him. Now when I
compare myself with the miller, I feel that, as far as human
usefulness goes, I am far lower in the scale. I am, when all is
said and done, a drone in the hive, eating the honey I did not
make. I do not take my share in the necessary labour of the world,
I do not regulate a little community of labourers with uprightness
and kindness, as he does. But still I suppose that my more
sensitive organisation has a meaning in the scale of things. I
cannot have been made and developed as I am, outside of the purpose
of God. And yet my work in the world is not that of the passionate
idealist, that kindles men with the hope of bettering and amending
the world. What is it that my work does? It fills a vacant hour for
leisurely people, it gives agreeable distraction, it furnishes some
pleasant dreams. The most that I can say is that I have a wife whom
I desire to make happy, and children whom I desire to bring up
innocently, purely, vigorously.

Must one's hopes and beliefs be thus tentative and provisional?
Must one walk through life, never fathoming the secret? I have
myself abundance of material comfort, health, leisure. I know that
for one like myself, there are hundreds less fortunate. Yet
happiness in this world depends very little upon circumstances; it
depends far more upon a certain mixture of selfishness,