I revert to all this now because it comes to me how I struggled with myself, when writing those last words of my essay, as to whether I would say what I did, knowing in my heart that, in the ordinary acceptation of the words, it was almost hypocrisy for me so to use them--“May He who walked upon the waters be your Pilot”--and yet feeling that they were needed to carry out my figure, and to make a suitable ending to conform to orthodox beliefs. Besides, what had I to offer instead? I did not believe that He actually walked upon the waters, but I did believe that He would make a good Pilot, so, weighing both sides, stood by what I had written. A lot of talk about one clause in a schoolgirl’s graduating essay, but it indicates the spiritual struggle which to recall even now makes me sorry for that girl I used to know. I think I must have been more conscientious about these things than most of the girls, for I never heard them hint at such problems, and never discussed these things with them, though I did with my friend, Walter. Had I attempted to explain my difficulties to my elders, I should only have blundered and bungled. Yet, in spite of these scruples, I sacrificed my dawning convictions that I might attain what I considered an apt and artistic ending to my allegory! I remember, though, that after deciding to make this concession to established opinions, I nudged myself with a congratulatory nudge at the innocent-looking but non-committal “peaceful haven of Eternal Rest.” I had not read “The Light of Asia” then, and knew nothing of what Nirvana meant--the ending merely pleased me by its cadence, and its figurative fitness; it did no violence to my budding doubts, yet would, I was sure, be accepted as a pious and fitting ending to my clever allegory! Self-centred and self-conscious though I was, I was aware that no one would give the attention to my little composition that I gave--the general effect only would be noted; but I wanted to justify myself to myself; I wanted also to be approved by the public--two opposing trends of character that have robbed me of peace of mind at many a crucial moment. In this early crisis, after weighing it all, I decided upon the expedient course, taking care, however, to be as sincere as I could be in conforming to the exigencies of the case. Looking back over my life, I wonder if this has not been the course I have most generally pursued. It seems to have been typical of much of my conduct.