“It is true,” replied More with earnest simplicity, “and I would not deny that, far from being agreeable, it is often, on the contrary, exceedingly painful and difficult for a man to impose these violent restraints upon his inclinations. But if he who hesitates on all occasions in the practice of virtue to do this necessary violence to himself and remain faithful to the requirements of duty, would reflect but for a single instant, he will find that although at first he may escape suffering and privation by voluntarily abandoning himself to his passions, yet, later, he will inevitably be made to endure a far more bitter humiliation in the torturing reproaches of conscience; the shame he will suffer in the loss of self-respect and the respect of others; and, in the inevitable course of events, he will at last discover that his passions have carried him far beyond the power of self-control or reformation!” “Let us banish these reflections, my dear More,” exclaimed the king in a petulant tone, passing his hand across his forehead; “they distress me, and I prefer a change of subject.” Saying this he arose, and, putting his arm around Sir Thomas’ neck, they walked on together toward the extremity of the garden, which terminated in an extensive and beautiful terrace, at the foot of which flowed the waters of the Thames. The view was an extended one, and the king amused himself watching the rapid movements of the little boats, filled with fishermen, rowing in every direction, drawing in the nets, which had been spread to dry on the reeds covering the banks of the river. Quantities of water-lilies, blue flowers, floating on their large brilliant green leaves, intermingled with the dark bending heads of the reeds, presenting to the distant observer the appearance of a beautiful variegated carpet of flowers. “What a charming scene!” said the king, gazing at the prospect, and pointing to a boat just approaching the opposite side of the river to land a troop of young villagers, who with their bright steel sickles in hand were returning from the harvest fields. “And the graceful spire of your Chelsea belfry, gleaming in the distance through the light silvery clouds, completes this charming landscape,” he added. “Would it were possible to transport this view to the end of one of my drives in St. James’ Park,” continued the king. “Will it be very soon completed?” asked Sir Thomas, at a loss what to say to his royal visitor. “I hope so,” replied Henry languidly, “but these architects are so very slow. Before going to Grafton, I gave them numerous orders on the subject.” “Your majesty has been quite pleased with your journey, I believe,” replied Sir Thomas, instantly reflecting what he should say next.