enting itself every hour under aspects so unforeseen that one
can gaze at it for years with unflagging interest. To some minds,
to mine amongst others, human life is scarcely supportable far from
some stately and magnificent object, worthy of endless study and
admiration. But what of life in the plains? Truly, most plains are
dreary enough, but still they may have fine trees, or a cathedral.
And in the cathedral, here, I find no despicable compensation for
the loss of dear old Ben Cruacha.

There are some humorous and perhaps even comic passages in "The
Intellectual Life"; these passages are unconsciously humorous or comic,
as Mr. Philip Gilbert Hamerton seems to have no sense of humour. For
instance, it was a great surprise to me to discover that poverty was
unfavourable to the intellectual life! It was enlightening to know the
reason why a man should wear evening dress after six o'clock, and why
the sporting of gray clothes in the evening was unworthy of the
Intellectual! Besides, it affects the character!

And letter XI "To a Master of Arts who said that a Certain Distinguished
Painter was Half-educated," was a useful antidote to youthful
self-conceit. I had not reached the stage, treated in the chapters on
"Women and Marriage," "To a Young Gentleman Who Contemplated Marriage,"
but I thought the author very wise indeed, and found many other pages
which were intensely stimulating. Let others decry Hamerton if they
like; I owe a great deal to him; and, though I might be induced to throw
"The Intellectual Life" to the Young Wolves of the Beginning of this
Century, I shall always insist that "A Painter's Camp" ought to be
included in every list of books.

It was George Eliot who sent me to "The Following of Christ," and she
interested me in Saint Teresa, that illustrious woman so well compounded
of mysticism and common sense, of whom, however, I could find no good
"Life." But Thomas [`a] Kempis was a revelation! He fitted into nearly
every crisis of the soul, but all his words are not for every-day life.
He seems to demand too much of us poor folk of the world. Later, I came
to understand that the counsel of perfection which Christ gave to the
rich young man was not intended for the whole world, and many fine
passages in [`A] Kempis were meant for finer temperaments than my own.

Somebody at this time presented me with a copy of Marcus Aurelius. I
found him dull, stale, and unprofita