cence, in which it is impossible for us to sink. But
though one could not easily drown in the Dead Sea, one might starve. And
when goodness is of too great specific gravity it is impossible to get
on in it or out of it. This is disconcerting to one of an active
disposition. It is comforting to be told that everything is completely
good, till you reflect that that is only another way of saying that
nothing can be made any better, and that there is no use for you to try.

Now the idealist of the sterner sort insists on criticizing the existing
world. He refuses to call good evil or evil good. The two things are, in
his judgment, quite different. He recognizes the existence of good, but
he also recognizes the fact that there is not enough of it. This he
looks upon as a great evil which ought to be remedied. And he is glad
that he is alive at this particular juncture, in a world in which there
is yet room for improvement.

* * * * *

Besides the ordinary Christian virtues I would recommend to any one, who
would fit himself to live happily as well as efficiently, the
cultivation of that auxiliary virtue or grace which Horace Walpole
called "Serendipity." Walpole defined it in a letter to Sir Horace Mann:
"It is a very expressive word, which, as I have nothing better to tell
you, I shall endeavor to explain to you; you will understand it better
by the derivation than by the definition. I once read a silly fairy tale
called 'The Three Princes of Serendip.' As their Highnesses traveled,
they were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of
things which they were not in quest of.... Now do you understand
_Serendipity_?" In case the reader does not understand, Walpole goes on
to define "Serendipity" as "accidental sagacity (for you must know that
no discovery you _are_ looking for comes under this description)."

I am inclined to think that in such a world as this, where our hold on
all good is precarious, a man should be on the lookout for dangers.
Eternal vigilance is the price we pay for all that is worth having. But
when, prepared for the worst, he goes forward, his journey will be more
pleasant if he has also a "serendipitaceous" mind. He will then, by a
sort of accidental sagacity, discover that what he encounters is much
less formidable than what he feared. Half of his enemies turn out to be
friends in disguise, and half of the other half retire at his approach.
After a while