the whole of the wonder of
Nature working for them in their woe. It is hard to feel utterly
crushed and broken before a wide expanse of mountain, moorland, or sea.
Something in their strength and vastness seems to bring renewed vigour
to our heart and soul. It is as if God spoke words of encouragement to
you through the wonder which is His world. But blind--one can have
none of these consolations. All is darkness--darkness which seems to
thrust you back once more towards the terror of your own heart-break.
Sometimes I wonder that the blind do not go mad. To them there is only
music and love to bring renewed courage to a heart weary of its own
conflict. To get away from yourself--and not to be able to do it--oh,
that must be Hell indeed! Verily sometimes the human need of pity is
positively terrifying.

_Travel_

We know what it would be were we never for a single instant able to get
away from the too-familiar scenes and people who, unconsciously,
because of their very familiarity, drive us back upon ourselves. In
each life there are a series of soul crises, when the spirit has to
battle against some great pain, some great trouble, some overwhelming
disillusion--to win, or be for ever beaten. But few, very few souls
are strong enough to win that battle unaided. A friend may do
it--though friends to whom you would tell the secret sorrows of your
life are rare! But a complete change of scene and environment works
wonders. Nature, travel, work--all these things can help you in your
struggle towards indifference and the superficially normal. But where
Nature and travel are useless, and work--well, work has to be something
all-absorbing to help us in our conflict--is the only thing left, I
wonder how men and women survive, unless, with sightlessness, some
greater strength is added to the soul, some greater numbness to the
imagination and the heart. But this I so greatly doubt. Truthfully,
as I said before, the need for pity seems sometimes overwhelming,
surpassing all imagining. I am sure that I myself would assuredly have
gone mad had I not been able to lose myself a little in travel and
change of scene. When the heart is tormented by some great pain, the
spirit seems too utterly spiritless to do anything but despair. But
life teaches us, among other things, some of the panaceas of pain. It
teaches us that the mind finds it difficult to realise two great
emotions at once, and that, where an emotio