as a cry to Heaven, and
that fretfulness is but the sign of a soul breaking itself against the
jagged rocks of hopelessness and doubt. I often listen to the people
speaking of blindness and the blind. They only see that the eyes are
gone, that the glory which is spring is for ever dead; they perceive
the hesitating walk, the outstretched groping hand which, to my mind,
is more pitiful than the story of the Cross, and inwardly they murmur,
"How awful!" and sometimes they turn away. But they have never seen
the real tragedy which lies behind the visible handicap. Only their
imagination is stirred by the outward and visible side of the tragedy;
never--or rather, very rarely--is it haunted by the realisation of the
despair which is struggling to find peace, some solution of the meaning
of it all, struggling to bring back some reasoned hope and gladness,
some tiny ray of light in the mental and physical darkness, without
which we none of us can believe, we none of us can live. Perhaps they
are wise to see so little of the real sorrow which dogs so many lives,
but they, nevertheless, are blind in their turn. They are wise,
because there is a whole wise philosophy of a sort in being deaf to the
song within the song, blind to the tears which no one sees, to the
trembling lip which is the aftermath of--oh, so many smiles. The
philosopher perceives just enough of the heart-beat of the world to
keep the human touch, but not enough to kill the outbursts of
unreasoned joy which make the picture of life so exhilarating and
jolly. And yet . . . and yet . . . oh yes, happiness _does_ lie in
remembering little, perceiving less, and in pinning your love and faith
in God--in human love, in human gratitude, in human unselfishness
scarcely at all. Happiness, I say, lies thus--but alas! not everybody
can or ever will be happy. They feel too greatly--and if in intense
feeling there is divine beauty, there is also incalculable pain. When
the "ingrate" is turned out of Heaven they do not send him to Hell,
they send him to Earth and give him imagination and a heart.

_Dreams and Reality_

So many people imagine that their love is returned, that their
innermost thoughts are appreciated and understood, when lips meet lips
in that kiss which brings oblivion--that kiss which even the lowliest
man and woman receive once in their lives as a benediction from Heaven.
So many people imagine that they have found the Ideal Friend when th