rest of the
world wrong in their interpretation of the meaning of life. So far as
the cultivation of will power, as it is called, is concerned, I have no
quarrel with those who maintain that a power of self-control is the
basis of human happiness. So far as the will can be trained to obey
only those instincts that tend to the growth and maintenance of
self-respect--to prevent the subordination of our better feelings to
the overpowering effects of passion, greed, or injustice--it must help
to the development of one of the primary necessities of a sane
existence. When, however, the same agency is brought to bear on the
treatment of diseases in any shape or form I find my faith wavering.
Though there may be more things in earth and heaven than are dreamed of
in my philosophy, I was not prepared to follow the teachings set before
us by the interpreters of this belief, whose visit had made an
interesting break in the lives of many people. Truth I find everywhere
expressed, goodness in all things; but I neither look for nor expect
perfection in any one thing the world has ever produced. "Tell me where
God is," a somewhat, cynical sceptic asked of a child. "Tell me where
He is not," replied the child; and the same thing applies to goodness.
Do not tell me where goodness is, but point out to, me, if you can,
where it is not. It is for each one to find out for himself where the
right path lies, and to follow it with all his strength of mind and of
purpose. Pippa's song, "God's in His heaven-all's right with the
world," does not mean that the time has come for us to lay down our
arms in the battle of right against wrong. No! no; it is an inspiration
for us to gird our loins afresh, to "right the wrongs that need
resistance;" for, God being in His heaven, and the world itself being
right, makes it so much easier to correct mistakes that are due to
human agencies and shortcomings only.

I found time to spend a pleasant week at Victor Harbour with my
friends, Mr. and Mrs. John Wyles. I remember one day being asked
whether I was not sorry I never married. "No," I replied, "for,
although I often envy my friends the happiness they find in their
children, I have never envied them their husbands." I think we must
have been in a frivolous mood; for a lady visitor, who was present,
capped my remark with the statement that she was quite sure Miss Spence
was thankful that when she died she would not be described as the
"relic" of any man.