st a harmless diversion; and I see no reason why people should be
discouraged from such diversion, any more than that they should be
discouraged from practising music, or making sketches in water-colour,
because they only attain a low standard of execution in such pursuits.
Indeed, I think that hours devoted to the production of inferior
literature, by persons of leisure, are quite as well bestowed as hours
spent in golfing and motoring; to engage in the task of writing a book
implies a certain sympathy with intellectual things; and I am disposed
to applaud and encourage anything which increases intellectual
appreciation in our country at the present time. There is not too much
of it abroad; and I care very little how it is acquired, if only it is
acquired. The only way in which these amateurs can be tiresome is if
they insist upon reading their compositions aloud in a domestic circle,
or if they request one to read a published book and give them a candid
opinion. I once stayed with a worthy country gentleman who, evening
after evening, after we had returned from shooting, insisted on reading
aloud in the smoking-room, with solemn zest, the novel on which he was
engaged. It was heavy work! The shooting was good, but I am not sure
that it was not dearly purchased at the price. The plot of the book was
intricate, the characters numerous; and I found it almost impossible to
keep the dramatis personae apart. But I did not grudge my friend the
pleasure he took in his composition; I only grudged the time I was
obliged to spend in listening to it. The novel was not worth writing
from the point of view of its intrinsic merits; but it gave my old
friend an occupation; he was never bored; he flew back to his book
whenever he had an hour to spare. It saved him from dulness and ennui;
it gave him, I doubt not, many a glowing hour of secret joy; it was an
unmixed benefit to himself and his family that he had this indoors
resource; it entailed no expense; it was simply the cheapest and most
harmless hobby that it is possible to conceive.

It is characteristic of our nation to feel an imperative need for
occupation. I suppose that there is no nation in the world which has so
little capacity for doing nothing gracefully, and enjoying it, as the
English. This characteristic is part of our strength, because it
testifies to a certain childlike vitality. We are impatient, restless,
unsatisfied. We cannot be happy unless we have a definite e