It is impossible to deny that dishonest men often grow rich and famous, becoming powerful in their parish or in parliament.  Their portraits simper from shop windows; and they live and die respected.  This success is theirs; yet it is not the success which a noble soul will envy.  Apart from the risk of discovery and infamy, there is the certainty of a conscience ill at ease, or if at ease, so blunted in its sensibilities, so given over to lower lusts, that a healthy instinct recoils from such a state.  Observe, moreover, that in Literature the possible rewards of dishonesty are small, and the probability of detection great.  In Life a dishonest man is chiefly moved by desires towards some tangible result of money or power; if he get these he has got all.  The man of letters has a higher aim:  the very object of his toil is to secure the sympathy and respect of men; and the rewards of his toil may be paid in money, fame, or consciousness of earnest effort.  The first of these may sometimes be gained without Sincerity.  Fame may also, for a time, be erected on an unstable ground, though it will inevitably be destroyed again.  But the last and not least reward is to be gained by every one without fear of failure, without risk of change.  Sincere work is good work, be it never so humble; and sincere work is not only an indestructible delight to the worker by its very genuineness, but is immortal in the best sense, for it lives for ever in its influence.  There is no good Dictionary, not even a good Index, that is not in this sense priceless, for it has honestly furthered the work of the world, saving labour to others, setting an example to successors.

Whether I make a careful Index, or an inaccurate one, will probably in no respect affect the money-payment I shall receive.  My sins will never fall heavily on me; my virtue will gain me neither extra pence nor praise.  I shall be hidden by obscurity from the indignation of those whose valuable time is wasted over my pretence at accuracy, as from the silent gratitude of those whose time is saved by my honest fidelity.  The consciousness of faithfulness even to the poor index maker may be a better reward than pence or praise; but of course we cannot expect the unconscientious to believe this.  If I sand my sugar, and tell lies over my counter, I may gain the rewards of dishonesty, or I may be overtaken by its Nemesis.  But if I am faithful in my work the reward cannot be withheld from me.  The obscure workers who, knowing that they will never earn renown yet feel an honourable pride in doing their work faithfully, may be likened to the benevolent who feel a noble delight in performing generous actions which will never be known to be theirs, the only end they seek in such actions being the good which is wrought for others, and their delight being the sympathy with others.