s for reason (which makes conduct, and is not unconnected with the
making of principles), it plays a far smaller part in our lives than we
fancy. We are supposed to be reasonable but we are much more
instinctive than reasonable. And the less we reflect, the less
reasonable we shall be. The next time you get cross with the waiter
because your steak is over-cooked, ask reason to step into the
cabinet-room of your mind, and consult her. She will probably tell you
that the waiter did not cook the steak, and had no control over the
cooking of the steak; and that even if he alone was to blame, you
accomplished nothing good by getting cross; you merely lost your
dignity, looked a fool in the eyes of sensible men, and soured the
waiter, while producing no effect whatever on the steak.

The result of this consultation with reason (for which she makes no
charge) will be that when once more your steak is over-cooked you will
treat the waiter as a fellow-creature, remain quite calm in a kindly
spirit, and politely insist on having a fresh steak. The gain will be
obvious and solid.

In the formation or modification of principles, and the practice of
conduct, much help can be derived from printed books (issued at
sixpence each and upwards). I mentioned in my last chapter Marcus
Aurelius and Epictetus. Certain even more widely known works will occur
at once to the memory. I may also mention Pascal, La Bruyere, and
Emerson. For myself, you do not catch me travelling without my Marcus
Aurelius. Yes, books are valuable. But not reading of books will take
the place of a daily, candid, honest examination of what one has
recently done, and what one is about to do--of a steady looking at
one's self in the face (disconcerting though the sight may be).

When shall this important business be accomplished? The solitude of
the evening journey home appears to me to be suitable for it. A
reflective mood naturally follows the exertion of having earned the
day's living. Of course if, instead of attending to an elementary and
profoundly important duty, you prefer to read the paper (which you
might just as well read while waiting for your dinner) I have nothing
to say. But attend to it at some time of the day you must. I now come
to the evening hours.

IX

INTEREST IN THE ARTS

Many people pursue a regular and uninterrupted course of idleness in
the evenings because they think that there is no alternative to
idleness but the stud