topping
to inquire whether, on grounds of absolute reason, these impulses are to
be justified. Let us hope so, at all events, till somebody proves the
contrary.

But even looking at the subject a little more philosophically, we may
say--and be thankful to say it--that the joy of life is not dependent
upon comfort, nor yet upon safety. The essential matter is that the
heart be engaged. Then, though we be toiling up the Matterhorn, or swept
along in the rush of a bayonet charge, we may still find existence not
only endurable, but in the highest degree exhilarating. On the other
hand, if there is no longer anything we care for; if enthusiasm is dead,
and hope also, then, though we have all that money can buy, suicide is
perhaps the only fitting action that is left for us,--unless, perchance,
we are still able to pass the time in writing treatises to prove that
everybody else ought to be as unhappy as ourselves.

Birds have many enemies and their full share of privation, but I do not
believe that they often suffer from _ennui_. Having "neither storehouse
nor barn,"[15] they are never in want of something to do. From sunrise
till noon there is the getting of breakfast, then from noon till sunset
the getting of dinner,--both out-of-doors, and without any trouble of
cookery or dishes,--a kind of perpetual picnic. What could be simpler
or more delightful? Carried on in this way, eating is no longer the
coarse and sensual thing we make it, with our set meal-times and
elaborate preparations.

Country children know that there are two ways to go berrying. According
to the first of these you stroll into the pasture in the cool of the
day, and at your leisure pick as many as you choose of the ripest and
largest of the berries, putting every one into your mouth. This is
agreeable. According to the second, you carry a basket, which you are
expected to bring home again well filled. And this method--well, tastes
will differ, but following the good old rule for judging in such cases,
I must believe that most unsophisticated persons prefer the other. The
hand-to-mouth process certainly agrees best with our idea of life in
Eden; and, what is more to the purpose now, it is the one which the
birds, still keeping the garden instead of tilling the ground, continue
to follow.

That this unworldliness of the birds has any religious or theological
significance I do not myself suppose. Still, as anybody may see, there
are certain very plain Sc