thing."

And now the plain man who is reading this and unwillingly fitting the
cap will irately protest: "Do you suppose I haven't examined my own
case? Do you suppose I don't understand it? I understand it
thoroughly. Who should understand it if I don't? I beg to inform you
that I know absolutely all about it."

Still the strong probability is that he has not examined it. The
strong probability is that he has just lain awake of a night and felt
extremely sorry for himself, and at the same time rather proud of his
fortitude. Which process does not amount to an examination; it amounts
merely to an indulgence. As for knowing absolutely all about it, he
has not even noticed that the habit of feeling sorry for himself and
proud of his fortitude is slowly growing on him, and tending to become
his sole form of joy--a morbid habit and a sickly joy! He is sublimely
unaware of that increasing irritability which others discuss behind
his back. He has no suspicion that he is balefully affecting the
general atmosphere of his home.

Above all, he does not know that he is losing the capacity for
pleasure. Indeed, if it were suggested that such a change was going on
in him he would be vexed and distressed. He would cry out: "Don't you
make any mistake! I could amuse myself as well as any man, if only I
got the chance!" And yet, how many tens of thousands of plain and (as
it is called) successful men have been staggered to discover, when
ambition was achieved and the daily yoke thrown off and the direct
search for immediate happiness commenced, that the relish for pleasure
had faded unnoticed away--proof enough that they had neither examined
nor understood themselves! There is no more ingenuous soul, in affairs