l of life, before which the superior and more refined Mr. John had
set himself down to deliberate upon the best and most elegant way of
taking it. Will's plain, homely intelligence has often in five minutes
disentangled some ethereal snarl in which these exquisite Mores had spun
themselves up, and brought them to his own way of thinking by that sort
of disenchanting process which honest, practical sense sometimes exerts
over ideality.

The fact is, however, that in each of these families there is a natural
defect which requires something from the other for completeness. Taking
happiness as the standard, the Daytons have it as against the Mores.
Taking attainment as the standard, the Mores have it as against the
Daytons. A portion of the discontented ideality of the Mores would
stimulate the Daytons to refine and perfect many things which might
easily be made better, did they care enough to have them so; and a
portion of the Daytons' self-satisfied contentment would make the
attainments and refinements of the Mores of some practical use in
advancing their own happiness.

But between these two classes of natures lies another, to which has been
given an equal share of ideality,--in which the conception and the
desire of excellence are equally strong, but in which a discriminating
common-sense acts like a balance-wheel in machinery. What is the reason
that the most exacting idealists never make themselves unhappy about not
being able to fly like a bird or swim like a fish? Because common-sense
teaches them that these accomplishments are so utterly out of the
question that they never arise to the mind as objects of desire. In
these well-balanced minds we speak of, common-sense runs an instinctive
line all through life between the attainable and the unattainable, and
sets the key of desire accordingly.

Common-sense teaches that there is no one branch of human art or science
in which perfection is not a point forever receding. A botanist gravely
assures us, that to become perfect in the knowledge of one branch of
sea-weeds would take all the time and strength of a man for a life-time.
There is no limit to music, to the fine arts. There is never a time when
the gardener can rest, saying that his garden is perfect. House-keeping,
cooking, sewing, knitting, may all, for aught we know, be pushed on
forever, without exhausting the capabilities for better doing.

But while attainment in everything is endless, circumstances forbi