rity, that we find excuses for letting a painful thing
alone.

But to leave this part of the subject, which is often a kind of
nightmare to me, and to return to my former point; I do honestly think
it a great misfortune that we tend to produce a type. It seems to me
that to aim at independence, to know one's own mind, to form one's own
ideas--liberty, in short--is one of the most sacred duties in life. It
is not only a luxury in which a few can indulge, it ought to be a
quality which every one should be encouraged to cultivate. I declare
that it makes me very sad sometimes to see these well-groomed,
well-mannered, rational, manly boys all taking the same view of things,
all doing the same things, smiling politely at the eccentricity of any
one who finds matter for serious interest in books, in art or music:
all splendidly reticent about their inner thoughts, with a courteous
respect for the formalities of religion and the formalities of work;
perfectly correct, perfectly complacent, with no irregularities or
angular preferences of their own; with no admiration for anything but
athletic success, and no contempt for anything but originality of
ideas. They are so nice, so gentlemanly, so easy to get on with; and
yet, in another region, they are so dull, so unimaginative, so
narrow-minded. They cannot all, of course, be intellectual or
cultivated; but they ought to be more tolerant, more just, more wise.
They ought to be able to admire vigour and enthusiasm in every
department instead of in one or two; and it is we who ought to make
them feel so, and we have already got too much to do--though I am
afraid that you will think, after reading this vast document, that I,
at all events, have plenty of spare time. But it is not the case; only
the end of the half is at hand; we have finished our regular work, and
I have done my reports, and am waiting for a paper. When you next hear
I shall be a free man. I shall spend Easter quietly here; but I have so
much to do and clear off that I probably shall not be able to write
until I have set off on my travels.--Ever yours,

T. B.

THE RED DRAGON,
COMPTON FEREDAY,
April 10, 1904.

DEAR HERBERT,--I was really too busy to write last week, but I am going
to try and make up for it. This letter is going to be a diary. Expect
more of it.--T. B.

April 7.--I find myself, after all, compelled to begin my walking tour
alone. At the last moment Murchison has thrown me over. H