y. But I plead for a much
wider and fuller interpretation of harmony than is customary. _Mens
sana in corpore sano_--a sane mind in a healthy body--does not fill
all the requirements of a healthy life. It is but an excellent theme,
wanting orchestration.

It is good to aim at a harmonious working of one's internal
arrangements if one has had the misfortune or the folly to break that
harmony. The physical basis of life must be attended to if we would be
well. Only, you cannot stop there without imperilling the whole
scheme.

Again, it is good to train the body by means of exercise, play,
singing and handicraft; all these things react both upwards and
downwards, outwards and inwards. For example, one of the special
virtues of tennis, if it be played at all keenly, is the necessity for
making one's feet (those neglected members!) quick and responsive to
the messages of eye and brain. In an increasingly sedentary age the
rapidly growing popularity of tennis is, for this one reason alone, a
good omen. But if you play tennis, or any other healthy outdoor sport,
or learn how to sing, or how to breathe, or if you do Muller's
exercises daily, for the sole purpose of benefiting your liver or
developing your muscles, or of "keeping fit," you will miss the real
prize.

It is good, also, to train the mind to be logical, critical and
balanced: it is good to cultivate a retentive memory and to store up
useful facts. But if while you are aiming at intellectual fitness and
alertness you allow these good things to obscure other and better
things, if, in short, you let means become ends, you will never be
healthy, because you will miss half the joys of living.

There are many very skilful performers on musical instruments. They
have set themselves, or their parents have set them, to gain certain
prizes, distinctions or qualifications. No music is now too difficult
for them to execute. But that is exactly what they do--they execute
it: destroy its head and heart by sheer mechanical perfection. They
have mastered the piano, or the organ, or the violin, or their own
voice; but music eludes them.

You see why I began with that tale of the curtained doors, the
mysterious music, and the quivering statuary. There is an elusive,
haunting quality about life and all living things which, if we look
for it and listen to it, imparts a glamour, a rhythm, a beauty to
everything that is worth doing. The great danger is that in the
pressure of wor