by heaven may be avoided, but from those we bring on ourselves there is no
escape.

Some years ago I paid a visit to the principal lake villages of
Switzerland in company with a distinguished archaeologist, M. Morlot. To
my surprise I found that his whole income was L100 a year, part of which,
moreover, he spent in making a small museum. I asked him whether he
contemplated accepting any post or office, but he said certainly not. He
valued his leisure and opportunities as priceless possessions far more
than silver or gold, and would not waste any of his time in making money.

Time indeed, is a sacred gift, and each day is a little life. Just think
of our advantages here in London! We have access to the whole literature
of the world; we may see in our National Gallery the most beautiful
productions of former generations, and in the Royal Academy and other
galleries the works of the greatest living artists. Perhaps there is no
one who has ever found time to see the British Museum thoroughly. Yet
consider what it contains; or rather, what does it not contain? The most
gigantic of living and extinct animals; the marvellous monsters of
geological ages; the most beautiful birds, shells, and minerals; precious
stones and fragments from other worlds; the most interesting antiquities;
curious and fantastic specimens illustrating different races of men;
exquisite gems, coins, glass, and china; the Elgin marbles; the remains of
the Mausoleum; of the temple of Diana of Ephesus; ancient monuments of
Egypt and Assyria; the rude implements of our predecessors in England, who
were coeval with the hippopotamus and rhinoceros, the musk-ox, and the
mammoth; and beautiful specimens of Greek and Roman art.

Suffering may be unavoidable, but no one has any excuse for being dull.
And yet some people _are_ dull. They talk of a better world to come, while