govern a world in which there are possibilities of various kinds,
just as well as one in which every event is inevitably determined
beforehand. St. Peter and the other fishermen-disciples on the Lake
of Galilee were perfectly free to cast their net on either side of
the ship. So far as they could see, so far as any one could see, it
was a matter of chance where they chose to cast it. But it was not
until they let it down, at the Master's word, on the right side that
they had good luck. And not the least element of their joy in the
draft of fishes was that it brought a change of fortune.

Leave the metaphysics of the question on the table for the present.
As a matter of fact, it is plain that our human nature is adapted to
conditions variable, undetermined, and hidden from our view. We are
not fitted to live in a world where a + b always equals c, and there
is nothing more to follow. The interest of life's equation arrives
with the appearance of x, the unknown quantity. A settled,
unchangeable, clearly foreseeable order of things does not suit our
constitution. It tends to melancholy and a fatty heart. Creatures
of habit we are undoubtedly; but it is one of our most fixed habits
to be fond of variety. The man who is never surprised does not know
the taste of happiness, and unless the unexpected sometimes happens
to us, we are most grievously disappointed.

Much of the tediousness of highly civilized life comes from its
smoothness and regularity. To-day is like yesterday, and we think
that we can predict to-morrow. Of course we cannot really do so.
The chances are still there. But we have covered them up so deeply
with the artificialities of life that we lose sight of them. It
seems as if everything in our neat little world were arranged, and
provided for, and reasonably sure to come to pass. The best way of