advocating life against such a tyrant as pain and against all its insinuations, to give evidence against life, to advocate the cause of life itself against the tyrant. In this condition we make a desperate stand against any pessimism, lest it might appear as a consequence of our condition and humiliate us as conquered ollies. The charm also of exercising fairness of judgment was never greater than now, for now it is a victory over ourselves and the most irritable of all conditions which would excuse any unfairness of judgment; but we do not want to be excised, especially now we want to show that we can be "without fault." We are in regular convulsions of pride. And now comes the first ray of relief, of convalescence, and almost the first effect is that we revolt against the sovereignty of our pride: we call ourselves silly and vain, as if we had experienced something unique. Ungratefully we humble the all-powerful pride, with the very aid of which we endured the pain, and impetuously clamour for an antidote to pride: we want to be estranged from ourselves and impersonal, after pain has made us personal too forcibly and too long. "Avaunt, Avaunt, oh pride!" we exclaim, "it was another illness and another convulsion!" Again we cast longing glances at men and nature: with a sorrowful smile we remember that now we view many things concerning them in a new and different light, that a veil has been removed—but it is so invigorating, again to see the subdued lights of life and to step out of the
