course of life
in which he shall be compelled to exercise virtues which are foreign to
his character, and any lapses of which will be penalised in a
straightforward, professional way. If a man, for instance, is
irritable, impatient, unpunctual, let him take up some line where he is
bound to be professionally bland, patient, methodical. That would be
the act of a philosopher; but, alas, how few of us choose our
profession from philosophical motives!

And even so I should fear that the tendencies of temperament are only
temporarily imprisoned, and not radically cured; after all, it fits in
with the Darwinian theory. The bird of paradise, condemned to live in a
country of marshes, cannot hope to become a heron. The most he can hope
is that, by meditating on the advantages which a heron would enjoy, and
by pressing the same consideration on his offspring, the time may come
in the dim procession of years when the beaks of his descendants will
grow long and sharp, their necks pliant, their legs attenuated.

And anyhow, one is bound in honour to have a try; and the hopefulness
of my creed (you may be puzzled to detect it) lies in the fact that one
HAS a sense of honour about it all; that one's faults are repugnant,
and that missing virtues are desirable--possunt quia posse videntur!

Thank you for the photographs. I begin to realise your house; but I
want some interiors as well; and let me have the view from your
terrace, though I daresay it is only sea and sky.--Ever yours,

T. B.

UPTON,
March 15, 1904.

DEAR HERBERT,--You say I am not ambitious enough; well, I wish I could
make up my mind clearly on the subject of ambition; it has been brought
before me rather acutely lately. A post here has just fallen vacant--a
post to which I should have desired to succeed. I have no doubt that if
I had frankly expressed my wishes on the subject, if I had even told a
leaky, gossipy colleague what I desired, and begged him to keep it to
himself, the thing would have got out, and the probability is that the
post would have been offered to me. But I held my tongue, not, I
confess, from any very high motive, but merely from a natural dislike
of being importunate--it does not seem to me consistent with good
manners.

Well, I made no sign; and another man was appointed. I have no doubt
that a man of the world would say frankly that I was a fool, and,
though I am rather inclined to agree with him, I don't think I could
have a