either the disagreeableness itself of the fancies, or their
inability to bear the criticisms of the convalescent hour. When
we praise the thoughts which health brings, health's peculiar
chemical metabolisms have nothing to do with determining our
judgment. We know in fact almost nothing about these
metabolisms. It is the character of inner happiness in the
thoughts which stamps them as good, or else their consistency
with our other opinions and their serviceability for our needs,
which make them pass for true in our esteem.

Now the more intrinsic and the more remote of these criteria do
not always hang together. Inner happiness and serviceability do
not always agree. What immediately feels most "good" is not
always most "true," when measured by the verdict of the rest of
experience. The difference between Philip drunk and Philip sober
is the classic instance in corroboration. If merely "feeling
good" could decide, drunkenness would be the supremely valid
human experience. But its revelations, however acutely
satisfying at the moment, are inserted into an environment which
refuses to bear them out for any length of time. The consequence
of this discrepancy of the two criteria is the uncertainty which
still prevails over so many of our spiritual judgments. There
are moments of sentimental and mystical experience--we shall
hereafter hear much of them--that carry an enormous sense of
inner authority and illumination with them when they come. But
they come seldom, and they do not come to everyone; and the rest
of life makes either no connection with them, or tends to
contradict them more than it confirms them. Some persons follow
more the voice of the moment in these cases, some prefer to be
guided by the average results. Hence the sad discordancy of so