in　the　evening　and　concentrate　on　it　the　next　morning。　　You　will　see。
  Yes；　my　friend；　it　is　useless　for　you　to　try　to　disguise　the　fact。　　I　can　hear
  your　brain　like　a　telephone　at　my　ear。　　You　are　saying　to　yourself：　　〃This
  fellow　was　doing　pretty　well　up　to　his　seventh　chapter。　　He　had　begun　to
  interest　me　faintly。　　But　what　he　says　about　thinking　in　trains；　and　concen…
  tration；　and　so　on；　is　not　for　me。　　It　may　be　well　enough　for　some　folks；
  but　it　isn't　in　my　line。〃
  It　is　for　you；　I　passionately　repeat；　it　is　for　you。　　Indeed；　you　are　the　very
  man　I　am　aiming　at。
  Throw　away　the　suggestion；　and　you　throw　away　the　most　precious
  suggestion　that　was　ever　offered　to　you。　　It　is　not　my　suggestion。　　It　is
  the　suggestion　of　the　most　sensible；　practical；　hard…headed　men　who
  have　walked　the　earth。　　I　only　give　it　you　at　second…hand。　　Try　it。　　Get
  your　mind　in　hand。　　And　see　how　the　process　cures　half　the　evils　of　life
  especially　worry；　that　miserable；　avoidable；　shameful　diseaseworry！
  VIII
  THE　REFLECTIVE　MOOD
  The　exercise　of　concentrating　the　mind　（to　which　at　least　half　an　hour　a
  day　should　be　given）　is　a　mere　preliminary；　like　scales　on　the　piano。
  Having　acquired　power　over　that　most　unruly　member　of　one's　complex
  organism；　one　has　naturally　to　put　it　to　the　yoke。　　Useless　to　possess　an
  obedient　mind　unless　one　profits　to　the　furthest　possible　degree　by　its
  obedience。　　A　prolonged　primary　course　of　study　is　indicated。
  Now　as　to　what　this　course　of　study　should　be　there　cannot　be　any　question；
  there　never　has　been　any　question。　　All　the　sensible　people　of　all　ages　are
  agreed　upon　it。　　And　it　is　not　literature；　nor　is　it　any　other　art；　nor　is　it
  history；　nor　is　it　any　science。　　It　is　the　study　of　one's　self。　　Man；　know
  thyself。　　These　words　are　so　hackneyed　that　verily　I　blush　to　write　them。
  Yet　they　must　be　written；　for　they　need　to　be　written。　　（I　take　back　my
  blush；　being　ashamed　of　it。）　　Man；　know　thyself。　　I　say　it　out　loud。　　The
  phrase　is　one　of　those　phrases　with　which　everyone　is　familiar；　of　which
  everyone　acknowledges　the　value；　and　which　only　the　most　sagacious　put
  into　practice。　　I　don't　know　why。　　I　am　entirely　convinced　that　what　is　more
  than　anything　else　lacking　in　the　life　of　the　average　well…intentioned　man
  of　to…day　is　the　reflective　mood。
  We　do　not　reflect。　　I　mean　that　we　do　not　reflect　upon　genuinely　important
  things；　upon　the　problem　of　our　happiness；　upon　the　main　direction　in　which
  we　are　going；　upon　what　life　is　giving　to　us；　upon　the　share　which　reason　has
  （or　has　not）　in　determining　our　actions；　and　upon　the　relation　between　our
  principles　and　our　conduct。
  And　yet　you　are　in　search　of　happiness；　are　you　not？　　Have　you　discovered　it？
  The　chances　are　that　you　have　not。　　The　chances　are　that　you　have　already
  come　to　believe　that　happiness　is　unattainable。　　But　men　have　attained　it。
  And　they　have　attained　it　by　realising　that　happiness　does　not　spring　from
  the　procuring　of　physical　or　mental　pleasure；　but　from　the　development　of
  reason　and　the　adjustment　of　conduct　to　principles。
  I　suppose　that　you　will　not　have　the　audacity　to　deny　this。　　And　if　you　admit
  it；　and　still　devote　no　part　of　your　day　to　the　deliberate　consideration　of　your
  reason；　principles；　and　conduct；　you　admit　also　that　while　striving　for　a
  certain　thing　you　are　regularly　leaving　undone　the　one　act　which　is　necessary
  to　the　attainment　of　that　thing。
  Now；　shall　I　blush；　or　will　you？
  Do　not　fear　that　I　mean　to　thrust　certain　principles　upon　your　attention。　　I　care
  not　（in　this　place）　what　your　principles　are。　　Your　principles　may　induce　you　to
  believe　in　the　righteousness　of　burglary。　　I　don't　mind。　　All　I　urge　is　that　a　life
  in　which　conduct　does　not　fairly　well　accord　with　principles　is　a　silly　life；　and
  that　conduct　can　only　be　made　to　accord　with　principles　by　means　of　daily
  examination；　reflection；　and　resolution。　　What　leads　to　the　permanent　sorrow…
  fulness　of　burglars　is　that　their　principles　are　contrary　to　burglary。　　If　they
  genuinely　believed　in　the　moral　excellence　of　burglary；　penal　servitude　would
  simply　mean　so　many　happy　years　for　them；　all　martyrs　are　happy　years　for
  them；　all　martyrs　are　happy；　because　their　conduct　and　their　principles　agree。
  As　for　reason　（which　makes　conduct；　and　is　not　unconnected　with　the　making
  of　principles）；　it　plays　a　far　smaller　part　in　our　lives　than　we　fancy。　　We　are
  supposed　to　be　reasonable　but　we　are　much　more　instinctive　than　reasonable。
  And　the　less　we　reflect；　the　less　reasonable　we　shall　be。　　The　next　time　you
  get　cross　with　the　waiter　because　your　steak　is　over…cooked；　ask　reason　to
  step　into　the　cabinet…room　of　your　mind；　and　consult　her。　　She　will　probably
  tell　you　that　the　waiter　did　not　cook　the　steak；　and　had　no　control　over　the
  cooking　of　the　steak；　and　that　even　if　he　alone　was　to　blame；　you　accomplished
  nothing　good　by　getting　cross；　you　merely　lost　your　dignity；　looked　a　fool　in
  the　eyes　of　sensible　men；　and　soured　the　waiter；　while　producing　no　effect
  whatever　on　the　steak。
  The　result　of　this　consultation　with　reason　（for　which　she　makes　no　charge）
  will　be　that　when　once　more　your　steak　is　over…cooked　you　will　treat　the
  waiter　as　a　fellow…creature；　remain　quite　calm　in　a　kindly　spirit；　and　politely
  insist　on　having　a　fresh　steak。　　The　gain　will　be　obvious　and　solid。
  In　the　formation　or　modification　of　principles；　and　the　practice　of　conduct；
  much　help　can　be　derived　from　printed　books　（issued　at　sixpence　each　and
  upwards）。　　I　mentioned　in　my　last　chapter　Marcus　Aurelius　and　Epictetus。
  Certain　even　more　widely　known　works　will　occur　at　once　to　the　memory。
  I　may　also　mention　Pascal；　La　Bruyere；　and　Emerson。　　For　myself；　you　do
  not　catch　me　travelling　without　my　Marcus　Aurelius。　　Yes；　books　are
  valuable。　　But　not　reading　of　books　will　take　the　place　of　a　daily；　candid；
  honest　examination　of　what　one　has　recently　done；　and　what　one　is　about
  to　doof　a　steady　looking　at　one's　self　in　the　face　（disconcerting　though
  the　sight　may　be）。
  When　shall　this　important　business　be　accomplished？　　The　solitude　of　the
  evening　journey　home　appears　to　me　to　be　suitable　for　it。　　A　reflective
  mood　naturally　follows　the　exertion　of　having　earned　the　day's　living。
  Of　course　if；　instead　of　attending　to　an　elementary　and　profoundly　important
  duty；　you　prefer　to　read　the　paper　（which　you　might　just　as　well　read　while
  waiting　for　your　dinner）　I　have　nothing　to　say。　　But　attend　to　it　at　some　time
  of　the　day　you　must。　　I　now　come　to　the　evening　hours。
  IX
  INTEREST　IN　THE　ARTS
  Many　people　pursue　a　regular　and　uninterrupted　course　of　idleness　in
  the　evenings　because　they　think　that　there　is　no　alternative　to　idleness
  but　the　study　of　literature；　and　they　do　not　happen　to　have　a　taste　for
  literature。　　This　is　a　great　mistake。
  Of　course　it　is　impossible；　or　at　any　rate　very　difficult；　properly　to　study
  anything　whatever　without　the　aid　of　printed　books。　　But　if　you　desire　to
  understand　the　deeper　depths　of　bridge　or　of　boat…sailing　you　would　not
  be　deterred　by　your　lack　of　interest　in　literature　from　reading　the　best
  books　on　bridge　or　boat…sailing。　　We　must；　therefore；　distinguish　between
  literature；　and　books　treating　of　subjects　not　literary。　　I　shall　come　to
  literature　in　due　course。
  Let　me　now　remark　to　those　who　have　never　read　Meredith；　and　who　are
  capable　of　being　unmoved　by　a　discussion　as　to　whether　Mr。　Stephen
  Phillips　is　or　is　not　a　true　poet；　that　they　are　perfectly　within　their　rights。
  It　is　not　a　crime　not　to　love　literature。　　It　is　not　a　sign　of　imbecility。　　The
  mandarins　of　literature　will　order　out　to　instant　execution　the　unfortunate
  individual　who　does　not　comprehend；　say；　the　influence　of　Wordsworth　on
  Tennyson。　　But　that　is　only　their　impudence。　　Where　would　they　be；　I　wonder；
  if　requested　to　explain　the　influences　that　went　to　make　Tschaikowsky's
  〃Pathetic　Symphony〃？
  There　are　enormous　fields　of　knowledge　quite　outside　literature　which
  will　yield　magnificent　results　to　cultivators。　　For　example　（since　I　have
  just　mentioned　the　most　popular　piece　of　high…class　music　in　England
  to…day）；　I　am　reminded　that　the　Promenade　Concerts　begin　in　August。
  You　go　to　them。　　You　smoke　your　cigar　or　cigarette　（and　I　regret　to　say
  that　you　strike　your　matches　during　the　soft　bars　of　the　〃Lohengrin〃
  overture）；　and　you　enjoy　the　music。　　But　you　say　you　cannot　play　the
  piano　or　the　fiddle；　or　even　the　banjo；　that　you　know　nothing　of　music。
  What　does　that　matter？　　That　you　have　a　genuine　taste　for　music　is
  proved　by　the　fact　that；　in　order　to　fill　his　hall　with　you　and　your　peers；
  the　conductor　is　obliged　to　provide　programmes　from　which　bad　music
  is　almost　entirely　excluded　（a　change　from　the　old　Covent　Garden　days！）。
  Now　surely　your　inability　to　perform　〃The　Maiden's　Prayer〃　on　a　piano
  need　not　prevent　you　from　making　yourself　familiar　with　the　construction
  of　the　orchestra　to