or motors, and he is equally bound not to discourse of his own
chosen intellectual interests; but he ought to endeavour to find a
common region, in which he can meet the golfer or the motorist
without mutual dreariness.

Perhaps it may be thought that I have drifted out of the mystical
region, but it is not so, for the relations of human beings with
each other appear to me to belong to this region. The strange
affinities and hostilities of temperament, the inexplicable and
undeniable thing called charm, the attraction and repulsion of
character--all this is in the mystical region of the spirit, the
region of intuition and instinct, which is a far stronger, more
vital, and more general region than the intellectual or the
artistic. And further, there comes the deepest intuition of all,
the relation of the human spirit to its Maker, its originating
cause. Whether this relation can be a direct one is a matter for
each person to decide from his own experience; but perhaps the only
two things of which a human being can be said to be absolutely
conscious are his own identity, and the existence of a controlling
Power outside of him. And here lies the deepest danger of all, that
a man should attempt to limit or define his conception of the Power
that originated him, by his own preferences. The deepest mystery of
all lies in the conviction, which seems to be inextricably rooted
in the human spirit, namely, the instinct to distinguish between
the impulses which we believe emanate from God, and the impulses
which we believe emanate from ourselves. It is incontestable that
the greater part of the human race have the instinct that in
following beneficent, unselfish, noble impulses they are following
the will of their Maker; but that in yielding to cruel, sensual,
low impulses they are acting contrary to the will of the Creator.