you and me.
But I do not suppose that there is a happier or a busier place in all
our dominions. The worst of it is that it is so terribly hard to get out
of. It is a blind alley and leads nowhere. Every step has to be
retraced. These people have to get a very severe dose of homely life to
do them any good; and the worst of it is that they are so entirely
virtuous. They have never had the time or the inclination to be anything
else. And they are among the most troublesome and undisciplined of all
our people. But I see you have had enough; and unless you wish to wait
for Professor Sylvanus's sensational pronouncement, we will go
elsewhere, and have some other sort of fun. But you must not be so much
upset by these things."

"It would kill me," I said, "to hear any more of these lectures, and if
I had to listen to much of our polite friend's conversation, I should go
out of my mind. I would rather fall into the hands of the cragmen! I
would rather have a stand-up fight than be slowly stifled with
interesting information. But where do these unhappy people come from?"

"A few come from universities," said Amroth, "but they are not as a rule
really learned men. They are more the sort of people who subscribe to
libraries, and belong to local literary societies, and go into a good
many subjects on their own account. But really learned men are almost
always more aware of their ignorance than of their knowledge, and
recognise the vitality of life, even if they do not always exhibit it.
But come, we are losing time, and we must go further afield."

XXII

We went some considerable distance, after leaving our intellectual
friends, through very beautiful wooded country, and as we went we talked
with much animation about the intellectual life and its dangers. It had
always, I confess, appeared to me a harmless life enough; not very
effective, perhaps, and possibly liable to encourage a man in a trivial
sort of self-conceit; but I had always looked upon that as an
instinctive kind of self-respect, which kept an intellectual person from
dwelling too sorely upon the sense of ineffectiveness; as an addiction
not more serious in its effects upon character than the practice of
playing golf, a thing in which a leisurely person might immerse himself,
and cultivate a decent sense of self-importance. But Amroth showed me
that the danger of it lay in the tendency to consider the intellect to
be the basis of all life and progress. "