aright--that being the
part in the process allotted to us; and let come--not what will, for
there is no such thing--but what the eternal Thought wills for each
of us, has intended in each of us from the first. If men would but
believe that they are in process of creation, and consent to be
made--let the maker handle them as the potter his clay, yielding
themselves in respondent motion and submissive hopeful action with
the turning of his wheel, they would ere long find themselves able
to welcome every pressure of that hand upon them, even when it was
felt in pain, and sometimes not only to believe but to recognize the
divine end in view, the bringing of a son into glory; whereas,
behaving like children who struggle and scream while their mother
washes and dresses them, they find they have to be washed and
dressed, notwithstanding, and with the more discomfort: they may
even have to find themselves set half naked and but half dried in a
corner, to come to their right minds, and ask to be finished.

At this time neither Gibbie nor Donal strove against his
creation--what the wise of this world call their fate. In truth
Gibbie never did; and for Donal, the process was at present in a
stage much too agreeable to rouse any inclination to resist. He
enjoyed his new phase of life immensely. If he did not distinguish
himself as a scholar, it was not because he neglected his work, but
because he was at the same time doing that by which alone the water
could ever rise in the well he was digging: he was himself growing.
Far too eager after knowledge to indulge in emulation, he gained no
prizes: what had he to do with how much or how little those around
him could eat as compared with himself? No work noble or lastingly
good can come of emulation any more than of greed: I think the
motives are spiritually the same. To excite it is worthy only of
the commonplace vulgar schoolmaster, whose ambition is to show what
fine scholars he can turn out, that he may get the more pupils.
Emulation is the devil-shadow of aspiration. The set of the
current in the schools is at present towards a boundless swamp, but
the wise among the scholars see it, and wisdom is the tortoise which
shall win the race. In the mean time how many, with the legs and
the brain of the hare, will think they are gaining it, while they
are losing things whose loss will make any prize unprized! The
result of Donal's work appeared but very partially in his
ex