e dowered with all the
virtues, but we of the commonality would have none of them. We chose to
scoff at an excellence that insulted us.

The King in "Hamlet" remarked,

"There lives within the very flame of love
A kind of wick, or snuff, that will abate it;
And nothing is at a like goodness still;
For goodness, growing to a pleurisy,
Dies in his own too-much."

The Doctrinaire can never realize the fatal nature of the "too-much."
If a little does good, he is sure that more will do better. He will not
allow of any abatements or alleviations; we must, if we are to keep on
good terms with him, be doing the whole duty of man all the time. He
will take our own most cherished principles and turn them against us in
such an offensive manner that we forget that they are ours. He argues on
the right side with such uncompromising energy that we have to take the
wrong side to maintain our self-respect.

If there is one thing I believe in, it is fresh air. I like to keep my
window open at night, or better still to sleep under the stars. And I
was glad to learn from the doctors that this is good for us. But the
other day I started on a railway journey with premonitory signs of
catching cold. An icy blast blew upon me. I closed the car window. A
lady instantly opened it. I looked to see what manner of person she was.
Was she one who could be touched by an illogical appeal? or was she
wholly devoted to a cause?

It needed but a glance to assure me that she was a Doctrinaire, and
capable only of seeing the large public side of the question. What would
it avail for me to say, "Madam, I am catching cold, may I close the
window?"

"Apostate man!" she would reply, "did I not hear you on the platform of
the Anti-Tuberculosis Association plead for free and unlimited
ventilation without waiting for the consent of other nations? Did you
not appear as one who stood four-square 'gainst every wind that blows,
and asked for more? And now, just because you are personally
inconvenienced, you prove recreant to the Cause. Do you know how many
cubic feet of fresh air are necessary to this car?"

I could only answer feebly, "When it comes to cubic feet I am perfectly
sound. I wish there were more of them. What troubles me is only a
trifling matter of two linear inches on the back of my neck. Your
general principle, Madam, is admirable. I merely plead for a slight
relaxation of the rule. I ask only for a mere pittanc