n as the interests or the likings of the companions are
not coincident.

Unselfishness appears to consist in doing good when it is not exactly
pleasant to do it, and to people who are not in our own groove, or in
"our set," but like the people invited in the feast prescribed by Christ,
and for whom we work as a duty, whether it is immediately agreeable or
not. It is giving up our own will to God's command and obeying this
ungrudgingly: and yet our own pleasure may be most in giving others
pleasure, and we can be lavish of labour for others while we are selfish
at the core. Thus it seems to be very difficult ever to be unselfish in
the sense that it is often absurdly insisted upon; namely, that others
are everything and yourself nothing. Nevertheless, after all casuistry,
we know what is _meant_ by "selfish," as an undue regard. But the result
of an action is to be looked at, and it does not become selfish because
we alone do one part of it. A man who steps out from a crowd to pluck
flowers alone on the edge of the cliff may bring back a bouquet that will
give fragrant pleasure to them all, while another who stays in the group
of gatherers may gather none at all or may be very selfish about his
handful. Our lonely labour may, in fact, be useful for other people in
the end.

The anxieties of the canoe trip are more varied and less heavy than in a
sailing cruise.

In the yawl I was always sure of food and lodging, but then in the canoe
one does not fear wind, wave, calm, and fog; for, at any rate, one can at
the worst take the canoe ashore. The risk of a total loss of the canoe
is only fifteen pounds gone, but the other shipwreck risks ten times as
much, and whereas each canoe danger can usually be avoided, those met in
sailing at sea are often to be encountered without any escape.

The physical endurance required in a canoe is more under control of a
previous arrangement. The muscular exertion with the paddle is generally
voluntary, while that in the yawl was often hardest when one wanted most
to rest. You need scarcely be forced, in canoeing, to go on two days and
two nights without sleep, as will presently be seen was my fate in the
yawl.

The scenery in traversing land and water in a canoe is of course more
varied than in sailing always at sea, but the perils of the deep have a
grandeur and wideness that seem to rouse far more the inner soul and with
more profound emotions. The thoughts during a night st