to the views of his brain. This will be most salutary and agreeable both
for himself and for the rest of the world. You object. You say it will
be a pity when mankind refers everything to reason. You talk about the
heart. You envisage an entirely reasonable existence as a harsh and
callous existence. Not so. When the reason and the heart come into
conflict the heart is invariably wrong. I do not say that the reason is
always entirely right, but I do say that it is always less wrong than
the heart. The empire of the reason is not universal, but within its
empire reason is supreme, and if other forces challenge it on its own
soil they must take the consequences. Nearly always, when the heart
opposes the brain, the heart is merely a pretty name which we give to
our idleness and our egotism.

We pass along the Strand and see a respectable young widow standing in
the gutter, with a baby in her arms and a couple of boxes of matches in
one hand. We know she is a widow because of her weeds, and we know she
is respectable by her clothes. We know she is not begging because she is
selling matches. The sight of her in the gutter pains our heart. Our
heart weeps and gives the woman a penny in exchange for a halfpenny box
of matches, and the pain of our heart is thereby assuaged. Our heart has
performed a good action. But later on our reason (unfortunately asleep
at the moment) wakes up and says: 'That baby was hired; the weeds and
matches merely a dodge. The whole affair was a spectacle got up to
extract money from a fool like you. It is as mechanical as a penny in
the slot. Instead of relieving distress you have simply helped to
perpetuate an infamous system. You ought to know that you can't do good
in that offhand way.' The heart gives pennies in the street. The brain
runs the Charity Organisation Society. Of course, to give pennies in the
street is much less trouble than to run the C.O.S. As a method of
producing a quick, inexpensive, and pleasing effect on one's egotism the