e of the incidents that made me dislike Mr. Sanine. I liked
his being honest, and I liked his being down on prudery and humbug. But
I thought his theory of life was a good deal too simple. "Don't repress
your instincts," he said. That's all very well, but suppose a man has
more than one kind? If a cheap peeping instinct says "Look," and another
instinct says "Oh, you bounder," which will you suppress? It comes down
to a question of values. Life holds moments for most of us which the
having been a bounder will spoil.

The harmonizing of body and spirit and all the instincts into one, so
we'll have no conflicting desires, is an excellent thing--when we do it;
and we can all do it some of the time, with the will and the brains to.
But no one can, all the time. And when you are not fully harmonized, and
hence feel a conflict--different parts of your nature desiring to go
different ways--why, what can you do? You must just take your choice of
repressions.

As to Sanine, his life is worth reading, and--in spots--imitating. But I
thought he was rather a cabbage. A cabbage is a strong, healthy
vegetable, honest and vigorous. It's closely in touch with nature, and
it doesn't pretend to be what it isn't. You might do well to study a
cabbage: but not follow its program. A cabbage has too much to learn.
How our downright young moderns will learn things, I'm sure I don't
know. Sanine scornfully says "not by repression." Well, I don't think
highly of repressions; they're not the best method. Yet it's possible
that they might be just the thing--for a cabbage.

* * * * *

Long before Sanine was born--in the year 1440 in fact--there was a man
in India who used to write religious little songs. Name of Kabir. I
tried to read his books once, but couldn't, not liking extremes. He was
pretty ecstatic. I could no more keep up with him than with Sanine.

In his private life Kabir was a married man and had several children. By
trade he was a weaver. Weaving's like knitting: it allows you to make a
living and think of something else at the same time. It was the very
thing for Kabir, of course. Gave him practically the whole day to make
songs in, and think of religion. He seems to have been a happy
fellow--far more so than Sanine.

Sanine's comment would have been that Kabir was living in an imaginary
world, not a real one, and that he was autointoxicating himself with his
dreamings.

[Illustration: I couldn