For instance, there is a current impression that it is unpleasant to have to run after one’s hat.  Why should it be unpleasant to the well-ordered and pious mind?  Not merely because it is running, and running exhausts one.  The same people run much faster in games and sports.  The same people run much more eagerly after an uninteresting; little leather ball than they will after a nice silk hat.  There is an idea that it is humiliating to run after one’s hat; and when people say it is humiliating they mean that it is comic.  It certainly is comic; but man is a very comic creature, and most of the things he does are comic—­eating, for instance.  And the most comic things of all are exactly the things that are most worth doing—­such as making love.  A man running after a hat is not half so ridiculous as a man running after a wife.

Now a man could, if he felt rightly in the matter, run after his hat with the manliest ardour and the most sacred joy.  He might regard himself as a jolly huntsman pursuing a wild animal, for certainly no animal could be wilder.  In fact, I am inclined to believe that hat-hunting on windy days will be the sport of the upper classes in the future.  There will be a meet of ladies and gentlemen on some high ground on a gusty morning.  They will be told that the professional attendants have started a hat in such-and-such a thicket, or whatever be the technical term.  Notice that this employment will in the fullest degree combine sport with humanitarianism.  The hunters would feel that they were not inflicting pain.  Nay, they would feel that they were inflicting pleasure, rich, almost riotous pleasure, upon the people who were looking on.  When last I saw an old gentleman running after his hat in Hyde Park, I told him that a heart so benevolent as his ought to be filled with peace and thanks at the thought of how much unaffected pleasure his every gesture and bodily attitude were at that moment giving to the crowd.

The same principle can be applied to every other typical domestic worry.  A gentleman trying to get a fly out of the milk or a piece of cork out of his glass of wine often imagines himself to be irritated.  Let him think for a moment of the patience of anglers sitting by dark pools, and let his soul be immediately irradiated with gratification and repose.  Again, I have known some people of very modern views driven by their distress to the use of theological terms to which they attached no doctrinal significance, merely because a drawer was jammed tight and they could not pull it out.  A friend of mine was particularly afflicted in this way.  Every day his drawer was jammed, and every day in consequence it was something else that rhymes to it.  But I pointed out to him that this sense of wrong was really subjective and relative; it rested entirely upon the assumption that the drawer could, should, and would come out easily.  “But if,” I said, “you picture to yourself that you are pulling against some