wonder, that in this world too often attend the
footsteps of a blameless life. It is not our wont to question happiness
closely in the days when we deem ourselves happy; but when sorrow draws
nigh, our memory flies to the peace that somewhere lies hidden: the
peace that depends not on the rays of the sun, or the kiss that has
been withheld, or the disapproval of kings. At such moments we go not
to those who are happy, as we once were happy; for we know that this
happiness melts away before the first fretful gesture of fate. Would
you learn where true happiness dwells, you have only to watch the
movements of those who are wretched, and seek consolation. Sorrow is
like the divining-rod that used to avail the seekers of treasure or of
clear running water; for he who may have it about him unerringly makes
for the house where profoundest peace has its home. And this is so true
that we should be wise, perhaps, not to dwell with too much
satisfaction on our own peace of mind and tranquillity, on the
sincerity of our own acquiescence in the great laws of life, or rely
too complacently on the duration of our own happiness, until such time
as the instinct of those who suffer impels them to knock at our door,
and their eyes can behold, shining bright on the threshold, the steady,
unwavering flame of the lamp that burns on for ever. Yes; only they, it
may be, have the right to deem themselves safe to whose arms there come
to weep those whose eyes are heavy with tears. And indeed there are not
a few in this world whose inner smile we can only behold when our eyes
have been cleansed by the tears that lay bare the mysterious sources of
vision; and then only do we begin to detect the presence of happiness
that springs not from the favour or gleam of an hour, but from widest
acceptance of life. Here, as in much beside, desire and necessity
quicken our senses. The hungry bee will discover the honey, be it hid
never so deep in the cavern; and the soul that mourns will spy out the
joy that lies hidden in its retreat, or in most impenetrable silence.

100. Destiny begins when consciousness wakes, and bestirs itself within
man; not the passive, impoverished consciousness of most souls, but the
active consciousness that will accept the event, whatever it may be, as
an imprisoned queen will accept a gift that is offered to her in her
cell. If nothing should happen, your consciousness yet may create
important event from the manner in which it re