s
and little visions of words fall together just so, seems, suddenly a
very trivial occupation--like amusing one's self with a pretty little
safe kaleidoscope, holding it up, aiming it and shaking softly one's
coloured bits of phrases at a world! Of course, it need not be so. But
there are moments when I think of Non when it seems so.

In our regular Sunday religion we do not seem to be quite at our best
just now.

At least (perhaps I should speak for one) I know I am not.

Being a saint of late is getting to be a kind of homely, modest,
informal, almost menial everyday thing. It makes one more hopeful about
religion. Perhaps people who once get the habit, and who are being good
all the week, can even be good on Sunday.

There are many ways of resting or leaning back upon one's instincts and
getting over to one's religion or perspective about the world. Mount Tom
(which is in my front yard, in Massachusetts) helps sometimes--with a
single look.

When I go down to New York, I look at the Metropolitan Tower, the
Pennsylvania Station, the McAdoo Tunnels, and at Non.

If I wanted to make anybody religious, I would try to get him to work in
Non's office, or work with anybody who ever worked with him, or who ever
saw him; or I would have him live in a house built by him, or pay a bill
made out by him.

It has seemed to me that his succeeding and making himself succeed in
this way is a great spiritual adventure, a pure religion, a difficult,
fresh, and stupendous religion.

Now these many days have I watched him going up and down through all the
empty reputations, the unmeaning noises of the world, living his life
like some low, old-fashioned, modest Hymn Tune he keeps whistling--and I
have seen him in fear, and in danger, and in gladness being shrewder and
shrewder for God, now grimly, now radiantly, hour by hour, day by day
getting rich with the Holy Ghost!

CHAPTER III

IS IT WRONG FOR GOOD PEOPLE TO BE INTERESTING?

People are acquiring automobiles, Oriental rugs, five-hundred-dollar
gowns, more rapidly just now than they are goodness, because
advertisements in this present generation are more readable than
sermons, and because the shop windows on Fifth Avenue can attract more
attention than the churches. The shop windows make people covetous.

If the goodness that one sees, hears about, or goes by does not make
other people covetous, does not make them wish they had it or some just
like it, it must