"My dear madam," answered Colonel Estcourt, gravely, "you really must not call upon me to expound the doctrines of the East to the scoffers of the West. I know a little--a very little--of this school of philosophy; but I am not vain enough to attempt an explanation of its profound wisdom. The mysteries of Nature demand the deepest and most earnest consideration of the human mind. Do you think I could presume to rattle off a few explanations or give the key to certain problems just to satisfy the vague curiosity of an idle hour. I will only say one thing--it is a thing that cannot be too often repeated and thoroughly kept in memory. Every life has to live out itself, and work out for _itself_ the higher mysteries that are shut within its own consciousness. No one can do that for it, any more than they could take its love, or its sorrows, or its misfortunes away, and bear them in its place. If humanity took that truth to heart, and lived according to the higher instead of the lower instincts, the world would be a very different place." "But," objected a pretty feminine voice in the back-ground, "what about the obligations of position and society? I suppose the `higher instinct' would tell us that amusements are a waste of time--vanity and vexation in fact--yet even they have a good result, they give employment, and help other folk to live. And it's a pleasant relief to be gay and frivolous. It's awfully fatiguing to be grave and good. Just look at us on Sundays. We're all more or less cross and disagreeable, and I'm sure no clergyman could honestly say that he wasn't heartily sick of droning and intoning that same eternal form embodied in the Church Service." "The higher life," said Colonel Estcourt, gravely, "is not a matter of form. Far from it. It is an unceasing and inexhaustible pursuit; it has infinite gradations, and is full of infinite possibilities. Its tendency is to elevate all that is best, and eliminate all that is worst, in man." "Oh!" cried Mrs Jefferson with rapture, "I'm sure you ought to meet my `Mystery.' That's just her sort of talk. I must say it sounds beautiful; but I shouldn't think it was practicable. It's a very hard thing to change people's ideas. When they've held them a certain time they get used to them, and don't like the trouble of altering." "True," said Colonel Estcourt, "and therein lies the secret of all the misery and mistakes that have made the world what it is. The few enthusiasts and propagandists have always been confronted by that mountain of inertness, prejudice, and indolence, which the aggregate portion of all nations oppose to anything newer, or wiser, or better than the sloth and ignorance of the past."