if I know that a man’s highest happiness is in knowing that others are happy, all I shall try to procure for others is the knowledge that I am happy; and thus the Utopian happiness would be expressed completely in the somewhat homely formula, ’I am so glad that you are glad that I am glad.’  But this is, of course, not enough.  All this gladness must be about something besides itself.  Our good wishes for our neighbours must have some farther content than that they shall wish us well in return.  What I wish them and what they wish me must be something that both they and I, each of us, take delight in for ourselves.  It will certainly be no delight to men to procure for others what they will take no delight in themselves, if procured by others for them. ‘For a joyful life, that is to say a pleasant life,’ as Sir Thomas More pithily puts it, ’is either evil; and if so, then thou shouldest not only help no man thereto, but rather as much as in thee lieth withdraw all men from it as noisome and hurtful; or else if thou not only mayest, but also of duty art bound to procure it for others, why not chiefly for thyself, to whom thou art bound to show as much favour and gentleness as to others?’ The fundamental question is, then, what life should a man try to procure for himself?  How shall he make it most joyful? and how joyful will it be when he has done his utmost for it?  It is in terms of the individual, and of the individual only, that the value of life can at first be intelligibly stated.  If the coin be not itself genuine, we shall never be able to make it so by merely shuffling it about from hand to hand, nor even by indefinitely multiplying it.  A million sham bank notes will not make us any richer than a single one.  Granting that the riches are really genuine, then the knowledge of their diffusion may magnify for each of us our own pleasure in possessing them.  But it will only do this if the share that is possessed by each be itself something very great to begin with.  Certain intense kinds of happiness may perhaps be raised to ecstasy by the thought that another shares them.  But if the feeling in question be nothing more than cheerfulness, a man will not be made ecstatic by the knowledge that any number of other people are cheerful as well as he.  When the happiness of two or more people rises to a certain temperature, then it is true a certain fusion may take place, and there may perhaps be a certain joint result, arising from the sum of the parts.  But below this melting point no fusion or union takes place at all, nor will any number of lesser happinesses melt and be massed together into one great one.  Two great wits may increase each other’s brilliancy, but two half-wits will not make a single whole one.  A bad picture will not become good by being magnified, nor will a merely readable novel become more than readable by the publication of a million copies of it.  Suppose it were a matter of life and death to ten men to walk to York