something in our minds like sunshine and the weather which is not within our control. When I write, the best things come to me in such a way that I cannot say whence they do come. Montaigne gives some remarkable instances of how much we do without knowing it.
The one fault of really good books is that they are generally the cause of a great many bad or mediocre ones.
A great mistake I made in studying when I was young was that I sketched out the plan for the edifice on too large a scale. The consequence was that I was unable to brick in the upper storey—nay, I could not even roof the structure. In the end I found myself obliged to do the best I could with a couple of attics, which I practically finished off, though I could not after all prevent the rain from coming in when it was bad weather. Full many a one goes through this experience!
A glorious science indeed is mathematics, but mathematicians are often not worth a straw. With mathematics it is almost as bad as with theology. Just as theologians, particularly if they happen to be in office, claim special credit on the score of sanctity and close relations with the deity, not withstanding that many of them are scamps,—so the so-called mathematician very often claims to be considered a most profound thinker. Yet mathematicians may be the greatest blockheads that can
