amused or interested me; and yet there were plenty of people
present with whom I should have enjoyed a leisurely talk, to whom I
felt inclined to say, in the words of Prince Henry to Poins,
"Prithee, Ned, come out of this fat room, and lend me thy hand to
laugh a little!" But as I went away, I pondered sadly upon the
almost inconceivable nature of the motive which could lead people
to behave as I had seen them behaving, and resolutely to label it
pleasure. I suppose that, as a matter of fact, many persons find
stir, and movement, and the presence of a crowd an agreeable
stimulus. I imagine that people are divided into those who, if they
see a crowd of human beings in a field, have a desire to join them,
and those who, at the same sight, long to fly swiftly to the
uttermost ends of the earth. I am of the latter temperament; and I
cannot believe that there is any duty which should lead me to
resist the impulse as a temptation to evil. But the truth is that
sociable people, like liturgical people, require, for the full
satisfaction of their instincts, that a certain number of other
persons should be present at the ceremonies which they affect, and
that all should be occupied in the same way. It is of little moment
to the originators of the ceremony whether those present are there
willingly or unwillingly; and thus the only resource of their
victims is to go out on strike; so far from thinking it a duty to
be present at social or religious functions, in order that my
sociable or liturgical friends should have a suitable background
for their pleasures, I think it a solemn duty to resist to the
uttermost this false and vexatious theory of society and religion!

I suppose, too, that inveterate talkers and discoursers require an
audience who should listen meekly and admiringly, and not
interrupt. I have friends who are afflicted with this taste to such