HEART AND SOUL

BY

MAVERIC POST

[Illustration]

 NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO. 1921

 Copyright, 1921, by THE CENTURY CO. 

APOLOGY

This book was not written with any idea of being published, but simplybecause I could not help it. 

I got thinking about various things, in the lives of people about me, and in my own life, and, after a while, I found that my thoughts wouldnot let me alone. They kept coming back, to trouble and haunt me, untilfinally I realized that the only way I could be rid of them and have alittle peace, was to set them down on paper. 

After that, I had the indiscretion to read parts of them to one or twowho are near to me. These seemed to think that they might prove helpfulto others who felt the same way and urged me to publish them. 

I cannot be blamed very much for conceiving a hope that this might provetrue. And, in that hope, I have followed their advice. 

 M. P. 

CONTENTS

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I DIAGNOSIS 3

 II THE UP-TO-DATE PRINCIPLE 43

 III REASON AND EXPERIENCE 59

 IV AFFECTION 83

 V FAITH 109

 VI SCIENCE AND THE INTELLECT 167

 VII HOPE 221

 VIII HEART AND SOUL 234

 APPENDIX 317

HEART AND SOUL

HEART AND SOUL

I

DIAGNOSIS

Many of us, to-day, are disturbed and alarmed by the point of view andthe behavior of people about us--especially the younger generation. Girls of good family are seen on all sides, who smoke and gamble anddrink and paint their faces and laugh with scorn at the traditions andconventions which their grand-parents regarded with almost sacredreverence. The young men are worse, if anything, and as for the marriedpeople of the new era, what they are doing to the sanctity of the homeand the bonds of matrimony might seem like a weird travesty of theteachings of the past. 

What is the world coming to? Are things going on indefinitely, thisway, --or more so? If not, who, or what, is to stop the movement and turnit in another direction? What is the meaning of it all? What is to bedone about it?

Before attempting to speculate on these questions, it might be a goodidea to consider for a moment the main, fundamental influences whichhave always been at work, to a greater or less extent, in determiningthe conduct of human beings. 

First come the material instincts. Each individual is born with a largenumber of desires, appetites, feelings, impulses, tastes. There is alsoa natural wish to gratify these and the process of doing so brings withit a sense of satisfaction and pleasure. So that if these naturalinstincts were the only things to be considered, the problem of humanityin a general way would resolve itself into preserving life and gettingas much pleasure out of it as possible. Why not follow the lead of ourinstincts, accept all opportunities as they come, and make the most ofthem?

Is not this point of view, however briefly and crudely expressed, thefirst principle of existence as it confronts each individual to-day, asit has confronted them in the past, and as it will continue to confrontthem always?

Is it not, in its essence, the starting point--the ever-present rawmaterial--which must be recognized and dealt with somehow in any schemeof philosophy or morality?

The next consideration, which follows closely after, is that certainwishes cannot be gratified, certain pleasures are forbidden, certaininstincts must be repressed or controlled. 

Why?

For various reasons. The first being force and might. Some one strongerinterferes and prevents. 

Every child comes in contact with this principle at an early stage. Itcannot have what it wants, it cannot do as it wills--because the nurseor the mother says "no. "

A little later, if it undertakes to gratify a certain wish which hasbeen forbidden, if it gives free play to an instinct for pleasure, against orders, it is slapped and scolded. It is made to feel that ithas done wrong. And when one does wrong, punishment follows--one mustlearn to expect that. 

This same principle confronts the individual in later years, --allthrough life. First the nurse and mother; then the father and othermembers of the family; then the neighbors and people at large; thepolice and the laws. All these embody the same principle, they representgreater force, without the individual, which interferes with itsinstincts, its pleasures, its wishes, which forbids certainthings--declares they are wrong--and punishes, if they are done. 

On top of this comes the church and religion. In a more exalted way, appealing to the imagination and the inner spirit, they neverthelessapply the same principle. Certain things are sinful and wicked, certaininstincts and desires are temptations, contrived by an evil spirit. Iftemptations are yielded to, if evil is committed, punishment is sure tofollow, if not in this world, then in another, a world beyond. 

In this connection, it is not a question of any particular church, orcreed, or any particular religion, but simply of the fundamental idea ofall churches and all religions, --the idea that somewhere, somehow, in aspiritual world of some sort, good will be rewarded and evil punished. 

Crudely and briefly stated, it is the same fundamental principle thatbegins with the child and nursemaid, and runs up through the highestforms of church and religious appeal. This is good, you are allowed andurged to do it, and it will bring reward; that is bad, you are commandedto resist it, and if you yield, it will bring punishment. 

This, then, is what we have called the second consideration in theproblem of life. 

There is another consideration, of a different order, which exerts aninfluence on the acts of an individual; which causes it to represscertain appetites and desires, on the one hand, and urges it, on theother hand, to do certain things against its instincts and inclination. 

This third consideration is the influence of reason and experience. 

A crude example will suffice to illustrate the principle. A certainindividual eats a plate of sliced cucumbers. Their taste is deliciousand the sensation most enjoyable. An acute indigestion follows, however, with great discomfort and distress. On a later occasion, another plateof fresh cucumbers is so tempting that the experiment is tried again, with the same results. 

Before long, this individual will refuse to eat a cucumber, no matterhow fresh and tempting it looks. There is no question of right or wronghere involved. There is no outside force or command, to restrain him. Itis his own reason, based on experience, which determines him to give upa present pleasure for the sake of avoiding a future pain. 

In a reverse way, a certain individual who is tired and sleepy andyearns to go to bed, will force himself to sit up and work over annoyingpapers, in order to be free for a game of golf, the following day. Hedeliberately denies his desires and accepts present discomfort for thesake of future enjoyment. 

This principle, if we look into it carefully and follow it through itsramifications and side lights, is an active and important factor in theconduct of nearly everybody. In its essence, it is personal, its forcesprings from within the individual--and in that respect, at least, it isquite different from the orders of parents, or the commandments ofreligion, which are issued from without and which the individual iscalled upon to accept and obey, irrespective of his own notions orpreferences. 

There is still another main consideration in this question of conduct. It is a very great factor in the lives of many people, and in some casesits force and influence are overwhelming. And it is totally different inits very essence and tendency from the other principles we have noted. 

This is the influence of love and affection. 

A mother will give up any pleasure, she will accept any pain for thesake of her sick child. She does not do it because any one has orderedher, or because of any commandment of any religion, or because of anyreward or punishment in this world, or another. There is no selfishmotive of any kind involved in her thought. Any sacrifice of self, sheis ready to make without the slightest hesitation. What she does, andwhat she is willing to do is for her child alone--because she loves itand, for the time being, its little life seems of more importance thaneverything else in the world put together. 

Now, if we pause right here a moment and reflect we can hardly fail torealize that we are in the presence of something strange and wonderful. It appears to be the very contrary and contradiction of all that hasgone before. The life of the individual, as it unfolds from the firstprinciple, is a question of self-preservation, self-gratification, appetites, desires, pleasures, as full a measure of enjoyment as it ispossible to obtain. This is interfered with by outside force andconsiderations of reason and experience; certain desires have to becontrolled by the idea of good and bad, reward and punishment; certainpleasures and pains have to be balanced against each other to determinea choice. But from beginning to end, it is all concerned inconsiderations of advantage--what is best for self, at the time being, or in the long run--in this world or the next. Why do this, that, or theother? because you will gain most by it, in the end. At bottom, themotive is taken for granted, whether openly admitted or more or lessthinly disguised--self, self-interest, selfishness. 

Then we turn and look upon a mother and her child--and we find that allthought of personal advantage can be transferred to another. Self-interest can be controlled and obliterated by a new and mysteriousprinciple--the principle of love. 

There are various kinds and degrees of feeling that go under the name oflove and nothing in life is more interesting or more vitally importantto study and understand. But in this preliminary summary it is enough tosignal its existence as one of the factors in the problem of life. 

It may be just as well to note, in passing, that mothers are to be foundwhose love for their children is not so completely unselfish. Mothersare to be found who care very little about their children. Mothers areto be found who regard children as a nuisance and a disadvantage andprefer to be without them. That will be found to be one of the curiousside-lights of the problem when time comes to discuss it. 

It does not alter the fact, however, that love exists, that the truemother's love of her child is the most complete and universalillustration of it. 

Also in many other forms of love and affection, it is easy to recognizethis same tendency toward unselfishness--a readiness to sacrifice one'spersonal pleasures and inclinations for the joy of another. A father mayhave this feeling for his son, or his brother, just as he may have itfor his wife, or his mother. A man, or a woman, may have it for a dearand intimate friend, and be willing to make real sacrifices in order tobenefit them. 

This, then, is the fourth consideration--a fourth factor in the problemof life--and to avoid misunderstanding and confusion of ideas, we willcall it affection--the influence of affection. 

There remains one more consideration--one further class and kind ofinfluence--which has its bearing on conduct. This may be summed up, in ageneral way, as love of an ideal, or an idea. Although it is lesswide-spread and less potent in most lives than affection for fellowbeings, yet it is, in varying degrees, a real factor that cannot be leftout. 

A sense of duty exists, to greater or less extent, in nearly all people. In people of breeding and good family it may become pride ofrace--_noblesse oblige_. A certain individual may have a strongaffection for his home town, the little community with which he has beenidentified as a boy and man. Another is devoted to a cause, a politicalparty, a Red Cross movement; while others have a strong feeling ofpatriotism, they love their country, their flag, and they are ready, atany time, to give up something for the good cause. 

Broadly speaking, and for lack of a better name, we may call this fifthprinciple in the problem of life--devotion to an ideal. 

As a result of these influences, the character of an individual isformed, his conduct is determined. At any given time, in the presence ofany given question as to what he will, or will not do, the answer willdepend on the relative force, or sway, of the conflictingconsiderations. 

This is merely stating an application of a general law--that all effectsmust have their causes. Only in the conduct of an individual, the causesat work are often very subtle and complicated. 

If the average individual at the present time is behaving differentlyfrom the way he used to act, it is obviously because of some change inthe influences. Certain motives and considerations which used to bedecisive have now ceased to dominate. Other considerations havesuperseded them. So much is fairly obvious, and very little reflectionis needed to locate these in a general way. They lie in the second groupof our summary--the control of desires from without, enforced by rewardsand punishments. 

In the life of the average individual, this influence has become weakerall along the line. It is probably less dominating and decisive to-day, than it has ever been before in any period of civilization, ancient ormodern. And the weakening of the influence begins in the earliestchildhood, with the punishments of nurse and parents and extends righton to the end, through neighbors and public opinion, the police and thelaws, and finally to the church and religion, with their everlastingretribution, heaven and hell. 

There has been no great apparent change in the other considerations ofour summary. People are still influenced by experience and reason, asheretofore. They still are moved by their affections; and there are thesame class of people who will fight for their country and makesacrifices for an ideal. 

It may be that the change of character which results from the weakeninginfluences under our second heading, has an appreciable effect on theforce of other influences, also. But that is a delicate and subtlesubject, which will be discussed later on. 

For the time being, we may stop at this point: that the startlingchanges which have occurred recently in moral standards andpoint-of-view are directly traceable to a corresponding weakening of aninfluence that has been one of the strongest in human lives. 

The nature and extent of this process are worth considering in detail, because it is at the very root of the problem and the consequences arefar-reaching. 

And before we begin to analyze it, let us be careful to avoid a hastyand easy conclusion. Because the changes in people's views and behaviorseem startling and alarming to those of the old school--that does notnecessarily mean that the new tendency is bad and wrong. Any change infundamentals is apt to be upsetting, for the time being. The new way, inthe end, may really be better than the old, and represent progress. Orit may mean deterioration and decline. It will be time enough to discussthat phase of the question, after we have made sure that we thoroughlyunderstand what it is, that has been going on. 

Let us take one thing at a time and start with the simplest and mostobvious. 

A human life begins, with possibilities of development in all sorts ofdifferent directions. The child is taken care of from thecradle--guided, educated. In due time, it reaches an age where it isleft to decide for itself and its actions are determined by its natureand what it has been taught. 

"As the twig is bent, the tree's inclined. " This is an old adage of theEnglish language and the principle it expresses has been generallyaccepted throughout the world. "Spare the rod and spoil the child"--isanother old adage which has been almost as universally accepted. Stillanother adage, expresses a fundamental principle: "Children should beseen, not heard. "

These adages are sufficient to indicate the basic theory that governedthe bringing up of children for countless generations. What do theyimply?

Obedience, discipline, respect--respect for parents, respect for others, respect for traditions and laws--and with it a reverence and fear ofGod. The aim was to turn out law-abiding, God-fearing citizens; and themethod, as expressed in the adages, was unquestioned for centuries andgenerally adhered to. 

It has always been usual and natural among various peoples at varioustimes, to inculcate in children from an early age those qualities whichare considered worthy and admirable. 

Among the American Indians, a true brave was he who presented anunflinching countenance to the enemy, even in torture. Consequently, boychildren were pricked and burned by their parents, until they wereschooled to accept any kind of pain without a whimper. 

In China, tiny feet were considered desirable in a woman--so girlchildren's feet were tightly bound and kept so, for long periods, withgreat suffering, in order to attain the worthy object. 

In these and similar cases in European civilization, the stern methodsemployed cannot be taken to mean that parents loved their children anythe less--rather the contrary. Because they loved them, they did nothesitate to do what was necessary, according to their lights, to makethem grow up as fine specimens as possible. 

That was the old school. What, now, of the new?

It is obvious that, in recent years, there has been a vast change in theattitude of parents toward children, and perhaps an even greater changein the attitude of children toward parents. 

The rod is used very sparingly, nowadays. In America, at least, it maybe said to be no longer used at all. Among families of education andrefinement, a child may still be spanked by the mother or father, butnot very often. The significance of the proceeding is not very great, and half the time the spanking is occasioned by the irritable nervouscondition of the parent rather than the act of the child. 

A child may sometimes be slapped by a nurse, usually when the nurse iscross and ill-humored. But in nearly all cases, if a nurse dared to whipa child, or cause it real pain, the child would only have to tell itsparents and the nurse would be discharged. 

And such trifling chastisements as do occur to-day, are confined to avery early age of the child. A boy or girl of twelve or fifteen has nofear of a beating from father, or mother, or governess, orschool-teacher. School-masters are no longer allowed to whip theirpupils, or even to cuff them. 

The old adage is no longer in force--it has been thrown into thediscard. "Spare the rod--" yes, the rod _is_ spared, but it remains tobe seen whether on that account the child is necessarily spoiled. 

"Children should be seen, not heard"--that idea, is also in the discard. Boys and girls have as much right to their say as anybody else. At thefamily table, in the home circle, the tendency is rather for their ideasand their affairs to usurp the conversation. Their impressions arefresher and more animated, and they are more abreast of the latestup-to-date topics. An attitude of respect and reverence for the opinionsand notions of their parents, or grand-parents, would hardly be expectedof them. So many of the things to be talked about--motors, wireless, airplanes, new wrinkles and changed conditions--are better understood bythem than the old people. It is easy for them to get the feeling thatthe old people's ideas are rather moth-eaten and of not much account. Itis for the rising generation to tell and explain what's doing now andfor the setting generation to listen and make the most of it. 

Of course, this is not meant to imply that children have ceased to haveany respect for their parents. In any particular case, it is a questionof degree, depending upon the quality of the children, the quality ofthe parents, the various conditions and influences of the family life. It is the general tendency we are looking for--the underlyingprinciple--which makes itself felt to a greater or less extent, according to circumstances. 

It is unquestionably true that the average child to-day is less oftenand less severely punished than the child of the past. If it disobeys, it has less fear of the consequences, so the importance of obediencebecomes a dwindling factor in its mental attitude and its behavior. 

It learns to take orders with a grain of salt and as often as may be, itdisregards them, because they are not what it likes. That is thebeginning of a tendency--the first bending of a twig. 

As the twig goes on growing with this slant, and the horizon of the boyand girl opens out beyond the family circle to a larger world, existingconditions are such as to encourage a continuation of the same tendency. The selfish instincts and desires of the individual are opposed by thesame kind of influences and restraints that have been in force sincethe beginning of civilization, but less effectively. And let us bearclearly in mind that, for the time being, we are confining our attentionto the forces which act on the individual from without. That is thethread we are following--the second consideration in our summary. 

The influences and restraints which act on the boy or girl, as they goforth from the home circle, are of various forms and kinds, but they maybe grouped in a few simple classes. 

First: The school with its teachers and teachings. 

Second: The influence of example and imitation--what others of their ageand kind are doing. 

Third: The influence of public opinion, of tradition and customs--whateverybody seems to think is all right and approves, on the one hand, andwhat is considered wrong and unworthy, on the other. 

Fourth: Laws and regulations of constituted authorities. 

Fifth: Sunday school and church--the religious influence with itsstandards of wickedness and goodness. 

If we consider these in order, we are not impressed by any strikingchange in the school influence. In many respects, no doubt, schools arebetter planned and more intelligently managed than they ever werebefore. More attention is paid to ventilation, hygiene, recreation, onthe one hand; and on the other the methods employed in imparting bookknowledge are probably more enlightened. 

As regards the question we are discussing--obedience, discipline, respect for authority--on the whole, there has probably been no greatchange. In the class-room and throughout the school régime, strictobedience is still maintained as an essential requisite, just as it hasalways been. The punishments and penalties for disobedience are perhapsa little less severe and drastic, but without any real difference ineffect. 

The only question worth raising in this connection is how farschool-teachers and school-rules are taken to heart by the average boyor girl--how far they are made to apply to their notions and motives, when school is left behind. School-books, school-teachers andschool-discipline are so apt to be bunched together and relegated to aspecial corner of the mind. 

Our second group--the influence of example and imitation--has probablyalways been a more important factor in shaping conduct and character. What the older boys, just above you, do and believe, makes a lot ofdifference to you, if you are a boy. 

It is no question here of old-fashioned precepts or theories, handeddown by parents, grandmothers or school-teachers, to be taken with agrain of salt. It is something living and vital, which concerns youdirectly. You look up to the older boys: you want to be like them; andapproved of by them. What they think and do may be at variance with theideas of nurse, mother and school-master, but if it is good enough forthem, it is good enough for you. It is a practical standard which youcan't help being judged by. If you fail to live up to it, or refuse toaccept it and try to act differently, there is a sure penalty. You willbe sneered at, disliked, looked down upon, or laughed at. 

If you are a girl, the same principle applies. There is nothing newabout the principle. It is as old as the hills and universal. 

Is the effect of it to-day on the forming character any different fromwhat it has been, in the past? Undoubtedly. A moment's reflection willshow why and how this must be so. 

Whatever the nature and influence of the family bringing-up may havebeen, in any particular case, the general tendency toward lack ofdiscipline and disregard for authority can hardly fail to be reflectedin the prevailing standards of the boys and girls to be found at anyschool. They have no connection with school regulations or schoolpenalties. It is the fundamental question of instincts, desires, andnotions--the attitude toward themselves and toward life outside theschool-room which they are going to take with them where-ever they go. 

The tendency begun at home finds reinforcement and further developmentin the boy or girl by example and contact with others, who are headedthe same way. 

Next comes the third group: The influence of public opinion--oftradition and customs. 

There is no mistaking the fact that in the present generation there havebeen many striking changes in the prevailing customs, as they apply tothe behavior and conduct of individuals. The growing boys and girls seethese changes taking place on every hand. 

When mother and father were young, Sunday was a day set aside forchurch-going and dull and decorous behavior. Games and fun of all kindswere laid away, everybody put on their best clothes and sat around andtalked, or took quiet walks with an overhanging air of seemly propriety. To-day there are tennis and golf and baseball games and dinner-partiesand gambling at the bridge-table, in which mother and fatherparticipate along with the rest. 

It used to be considered improper for a girl of good family to go out atnight to any kind of party without being accompanied by a chaperon. Nowadays, the girl who is obliged to take a chaperon with her wherevershe goes, is liable to be laughed at by her up-to-date friends. 

It was not so long ago that in any respectable community, a woman whopainted her face, smoked cigarettes, drank cocktails and gambled withthe men, would have been considered a shocking spectacle of depravitythat no self-respecting wife, or mother, could accept or tolerate. 

Nowadays, the growing boy and girl have only to open their eyes to seewomen doing such things everywhere--as likely as not their aunts andcousins, or their own mothers. 

Examples of this nature could be given in great variety, but enough hasbeen suggested to show the trend. In another connection it will beinteresting to discuss these manifestations in greater detail andreflect on their cause and meaning. 

For the present, it is sufficient to indicate that the social customshave changed and are changing very materially. Under such conditions, itwould not be natural for young people to be unduly impressed by them. Such standards are so unstable and they differ so much to-day from whatthey were yesterday, and they differ so much in different circles andeven in different families, that their force and importance are not verycompelling. The authority of past customs has undergone a process ofconfusion and weakening, much the same as parental authority. There isless respect for it on the part of the new generation. 

The same thing is true of traditions and public opinion. Traditions havebeen modified and lost sight of in the new movement, and public opinionon many questions is to-day so confused and indefinite as hardly toexist. 

Some people still think that divorce and re-marriage is shocking. Otherpeople thoroughly approve of divorce, and believe that when a marriagehas proved unsatisfactory and objectionable, it is right and best tocall it off and look for something better. 

Some people think it wrong for young people to run to the picture-showsand see baby vampires and demoralizing examples of licence andmisconduct; others are enthusiastic about the educational value of themovies and encourage their children to go as often as they like. 

Some people disapprove violently of the way young people dance togetherand of the present attitude of girls and boys toward one another; whileothers accept it as a part of the new era of emancipation andenlightenment which is all in the way of progress. 

There is practically no real public opinion to-day on these, and manyother similar questions. A diversity of individual opinions and notionshas taken its place, which young people are more or less free to followor ignore, as circumstances may determine. 

Yet it is not so long ago that public opinion in most communities was afirmly established, vital force. It was generally recognized andcarefully respected by anybody, who wished to be considered respectable. Certain acts, certain kinds of conduct, were considered immoral, orshocking, or in bad taste and those who defied public opinion were madeto pay the penalty. They were given the cold shoulder, cut off thevisiting-list and made to feel the stigma of disapproval. 

If a girl sneaked off alone with boys in the dark, or was caught smokingcigarettes--if a married man was seen consorting with a divorcee--if awoman drank highballs and gambled and broke up a happy home--if anymember of the community did any one of a number of things which wereconsidered improper, or unworthy, or immoral, or dishonorable, publicopinion was sternly in evidence, unquestioned and unquestionable, tojudge and to sentence. 

Young people learned to take account of this consideration, just astheir mothers and fathers did. They grew up with respect for it. In thenew generation the thing itself has lost greatly in consistency andforce, and the young people see no reason to be much concerned about it. 

In the fourth group, are included the laws and regulations ofconstituted authorities. For the most part these find their chiefrepresentative in the policeman, with the jail and law-court, as abackground behind him. About the only change in this influence lies inthe mental attitude of the average individual. 

A generation ago, people who got arrested were usually thieves, ordrunkards, or crooks and criminals of some kind. To be a law-breaker andin the clutches of the police was something that a reputable citizenshuddered at. The police were the guardians of all good people, majestic, respected and a little awe-inspiring. 

Nowadays, people of all sorts and kinds are constantly getting intotrouble with the police, and getting arrested, and being hauled to courtand fined before the same bar of justice as the crooks and drunkards. Itis usually in connection with automobile driving. They arelaw-breakers--they know it and are caught at it. 

And since the prohibition laws have gone into effect, another crop oflaw-breakers has sprung up on every hand. Deliberately and defiantlythey disregard the law and scoff at it. 

In addition to this matter of the police, there is a growing tendency onthe part of the average person to question the worthiness and integrityof officials and representatives of government, all along the line. Aldermen, commissioners, mayors of cities--even senators of the UnitedStates--are frequent objects of mistrust, of sneering disrespect. Political scandals and corrupt deals in high places are commonplacetopics in any community. 

So young people, looking about and absorbing ideas, under theseconditions, are inclined to have a lessened respect for constitutedauthorities and the laws. 

Above and beyond this, having a deeper significance and effects that aremore intimate and constant and far-reaching, is the change which hasbeen taking place in the influences of the fifth and last group--Sundayschool and church--the force of religion. 

This is such a delicate subject, so close to the hearts of so manypeople and having so many variations and degrees in differentindividuals, in different families, in different communities, indifferent churches, that it is extremely difficult to discuss. It islargely a matter of private sentiment, of vague personal feelings forwhich the average person is unable to find adequate expression. Nosooner is the subject broached than the individual mind takes refuge ina defensive attitude. As it does not intend to be disturbed in its ownspiritual attitude and beliefs, it is ready to seize the firstopportunity to raise objections. 

Let me reassure such minds by saying that I am quite willing to agreewith them concerning the good that is in their minister, or theirchurch, or any other church, or religion they may be interested in. Tothe best of my knowledge and belief, the purpose and influence of allchurches and all religions has always been in the direction of higherthoughts and more exalted motives of conduct. This is no less so to-daythan it has been in the past. 

The change that has occurred is in the attitude of the new generationtoward the teachings of the church and the consequent weakening of itsinfluence. 

Not much reflection or observation is required to arrive at a generalidea of the nature and extent of this tendency. 

In most Christian homes it has been the custom to teach children to saytheir prayers every night before going to bed. And in teaching them topray, the idea has been instilled in their minds that the all-wise Lordis listening to them and watching over them. Mothers and Fathers haveaccustomed them to the belief that no act of theirs--no matter howcarefully they may conceal it from the human beings about them--can everescape the all-seeing eye of the Lord. 

Children have believed this from time immemorial and the Sunday schooland church have encouraged and strengthened this belief, at all stagesof their growth. And along with this, as we have observed, went the ideaof divine, everlasting justice and retribution--the punishment of eviland the regard of good, if not in this world, then surely in the greaterworld beyond. Heaven and hell have for centuries been pictured asawe-inspiring realities, established by the Bible, expounded andthundered from pulpits. 

Children found, as they grew up, that the idea was accepted and sharedby mothers, fathers, neighbors--everybody in the community entitled torespect or consideration. In trouble or sickness, they turned to theLord for comfort and help and those who yielded to temptation andignored His commandments were in danger of eternal damnation. 

When people believe such a doctrine, when it is a living conviction intheir hearts and souls, no greater influence could be imagined forcontrolling their material instincts and desires. We have only to referback to the days of the martyrs and saints to realize what the principleis capable of when it is fully applied. As compared to eternal salvationand everlasting bliss--how petty and unimportant are the temporaryexperiences of the body. 

The great mass of normal human beings, while accepting and believing thedoctrine, have never deemed it necessary, or practical, to carry it toofar. But always in the past, so far as we know, the average individualhas been influenced to a very considerable extent by his religiousbeliefs. The more deeply and intensely he _believed_ in the teachings, the greater their influence in controlling his acts. 

If we turn to the present generation, we find on all sides, evidences ofa growing notion that many of the statements contained in the Bible willno longer hold water, when put to the test of scientific enlightenment. A minister of the gospel in this church, and another in that, announcesfrom the pulpit that it is no longer possible for him to accept thedoctrines of hell's fire and eternal damnation. Others follow theirexample and preach sermons, accordingly, to justify this stand. Next thequestion of heaven is brought into question by a conscientious divine, who expounds the conviction that it should be accepted in an allegoricalmeaning, not literally--that instead of being a paradise inhabited bythe souls of the elect, it should be considered rather a state of mindof living mortals who behave rightly. 

Heaven and hell, a jealous and all-mighty Being, seated on a majesticthrone, watching and judging each act of mortal man, punishing andrewarding, through all eternity--these and many other biblicalteachings, which for centuries awed the imagination and possessed thesouls of humble men and women, have gradually been brought intoquestion. 

Some people are inclined to lay blame for this on the churches and theministers. But that is superficial thinking. The causes for the changewere not within the churches, but outside, and the ministers of thegospel, though human beings like the rest of us, were among the verylast to take cognizance of them. 

The doubts and questions and misgivings evidently began, some time ago, among practical, thoughtful minds of scientific training. Certainstatements in the Bible, in the light of modern investigation, werefound to be inaccurate. If parts of it were founded on the ignorance ofmen of more or less primitive instruction, it is easy to see where thisline of reasoning was bound to lead. In addition to the statements offact, many of the ideas and assumptions set forth in the Bible seemedcrude, narrow, cruel--as primitive as the lives of those early peoplesamong whom it came into existence. 

The moral code contained in it--the essence of its religioussignificance--was undoubtedly sound and eternally true and very possiblyinspired from on high, but the details, the images, the formalconceptions were decidedly antiquated and unimpressive to theenlightened spirit of our advanced civilization. 

This growing point-of-view began to express itself quite noticeably inthe past generation, at least in America. Thoughtful men, when theyarrived at it, were inclined to keep it to themselves. They did not careto disturb the simple, whole-souled faith of their wives and mothers andchildren. But when these men went to church with the family, and had tolisten to the literal, orthodox expoundings of antiquated dogmas, theywere apt to feel mildly bored and annoyed. They began to beg off fromgoing to church. Then, little by little, in the various churchcongregations, there was a disquieting falling off in the attendance ofmen-folk. 

Then some of these men began to exchange their views quietly withothers, who felt the same way. Articles were written, here and there, calling certain dogmas into question--and women were sometimes led totake part in the discussions and face the conclusions. 

Women, as has been observed from time immemorial, are by nature moreconservative than men, more inclined to accept existing conventions andbe governed by traditions. They are also more impressionable and theoutward forms of church service mean more to them. Religious stimulantcan come to them through their feelings and imagination without greatlyinvolving the intellect. The same is true of children. 

So it has happened that while the men questioned, lost faith and balkedat church-going, the women and children kept on dutifully, for the mostpart content to accept things as they had always been. 

But the contagion of advanced thought was in the air, spreading amongprogressive men, reacting to a certain extent among women, and it wasprobably not until this had been going on for some time that it began tobe taken into account by the clergy. Sooner or later it had to be, ifthe church was to preserve any harmony with the thoughts of itscongregation. 

At the present time, things have reached a point where if you ask any ofthe younger women, of average intelligence and education, her sentimentsconcerning hell's fire and heaven's glories, and the jealous on-lookingGod who demands to be worshipped, the chances are she will answer with ashrug that those things are no longer preached by progressive ministers. She believes in the Bible, certainly, and considers herself a goodChristian, but certain portions of the divine word, certain conceptionsof the past, are no longer acceptable--they have gone into the discard. 

And these women, holding such a view, have no hesitancy in expressing itin the presence of their children, if it so happens that they are oldenough to be sitting by, listening to the conversation. 

In the light of all this, when we come to consider the force of religionas a restraining influence in the growing lives of the new generation, the nature and extent of the changes is fairly obvious. 

Let us suppose that to-day the average little children still have thebeginnings of their religious training in much the same way as it hasalways been. And a large proportion of them undoubtedly do, becausethat is one of the family traditions which almost any mother would beloath to change. 

The children, then, are taught to say their daily prayer--they are toldthat God hears them and sees them--that God is all-wise andall-powerful--that He loves good people and rewards them, while people, who do wrong, anger Him and cannot escape His punishment. And thisteaching is continued and developed in the Sunday school, as soon as thechildren are old enough to go there. 

The child mind absorbs all this, accepts it with the same simple faithwith which it has accepted Santa Claus. 

If we consider the period of early childhood carefully, we find thatthese two beliefs, so to speak, go hand in hand--and there is muchsimilarity between them. Most children are also taught about Santa Clausfrom the earliest days. He becomes very real and wonderfully importantin the child imagination. He, too, has a mysterious way of knowingwhether people are good or bad; he, too, loves the good ones and rewardsthem by bringing them beautiful presents--and if the bad ones are toobad, he is liable to punish them by giving them no presents at all. Instead of praying to him at night, you can write him letters which hehas a way of getting from the chimney, so that he, too, can understandthe innermost wishes of your heart. 

Sooner or later, however, the time must come when the existence of SantaClaus is called into doubt. The doubt usually begins with some remarkmade by an older boy or girl. But even if older boys and girls kepttheir mouths shut, the time would surely come when a growing mind wouldbegin puzzling, reasoning, doubting, and by putting two and twotogether, would be forced to the conclusion that this pretty idea wasonly a make-believe, a myth, a humbug. A little further reflection mighttell it that the myth must have been invented by some one, long ago, andwas kept alive and carried on by people, generation after generation, onaccount of the value and influence it was found to have in bringing upchildren. 

Even after a child has become too wise to believe any longer in SantaClaus, when the first reaction of feeling fooled and cheated is over, itis perfectly willing to go on pretending for the sake of little brotherand sister, and when it grows up and has children of its own, it will goon pretending for them. 

In the present generation, what is happening in the case of many peoplewith regard to religious beliefs, is only one step removed. At a littlelater period of development, no doubt, but almost as inevitably, themoment arrives when the childhood teachings and conceptions begin to becalled into question. 

Is there really an all-wise Lord, looking on and listening when you sayyour evening prayers? How many ears and eyes He must have, when so manypeople are doing the same thing at the same time--hundreds, thousands, millions--all talking to Him at once--in different languages and aboutdifferent things!

It was the same way about Santa Claus. How could he be bringing so manypresents to so many people, all over the world, and delivering thempersonally, on the same Christmas eve? It would have taken him years toget through with all the houses in New York City alone--without thinkingof London and Paris and all the other places. 

In the past, when such a question came to mind and found expression, theanswer was comparatively simple and direct. Religion is a matter offaith, not argument; the ways of the Lord surpass the humanunderstanding: the Bible and the church are the authority, what theyteach and ordain is to be accepted and obeyed. To doubt, or question, ordisbelieve is the beginning of sin, and the consequences may beterrible. 

When the individual was trained to the habit of obedience--when theattitude of the spirit within was one of respect and reverence forestablished authority and established traditions--that was one thing. Ifmothers and fathers and neighbors and wiser heads everywhere acceptedthis great mystery unqualifiedly, on faith, as the guiding light oftheir lives, was it not enough for their sons and daughters to followtheir example and do likewise?

But in the new generation, as we have seen, the twig has already beenbent in a different direction. Before the time comes for the youngperson to be bothered with thoughts about religion, he or she hasalready acquired the notion that the example of mother and father doesnot need to be followed in many things. Some of their ideas andtraditions have become antiquated and more or less ridiculous in thelight of the new movement. When one begins to make enquiries about thisquestion of the Bible, enough has been said and heard to indicate thatcertain of its assumptions, at least, will no longer hold water and havebeen discarded by the ministers, themselves. So, say many of the newgeneration, when you come down to it, what is there to prove that thesereligious beliefs may not, after all, be only a legend, something likethe one about Santa Claus, evolved in the distant past, kept alive andadhered to, generation after generation, for the same sort of reason?

A far greater number find it more convenient to refrain from expressingthemselves. They may even go to church, occasionally, and they observe asuperficial deference for the established forms of religion. But theyare very little concerned in the sayings of the Bible, or the sermons ofthe ministers; they don't ask, or expect, any help from the Lord--nor dothey live in fear of His punishment. 

It is not to be inferred that any large proportion of the new generationhave consciously or definitely followed out the chain of reasoning whichwe have indicated. Most of them don't bother their heads to think veryfar about such a serious subject. Their attitude, on this question, ason many others, is apt to be arrived at, in a more or less subconsciousway. 

If a growing nature has not been schooled to obedience; if it haslearned to question and often disregard the ideas of its parents andelders and has formed the habit of laughing at old-fashioned traditionsand conventions, there is nothing to be wondered at, if, when the timecomes, it is prepared to take a more or less similar view of Bible andchurch. 

That, undoubtedly, is the present tendency. 

Now it is more than likely that such thoughts as these seemobjectionable to many good Christians, because they consider that everywell-intentioned person should strive to uphold the church and torefrain from the expression of ideas that might tend to unsettle faith. 

Let me assure such people that my intentions are really of the best andI am as deeply concerned as they can be about the influences whichappear to be undermining the spiritual welfare of my fellow beings. 

But for the present, my aim is to look facts in the face, and toendeavor, patiently and simply, to understand and explain. When we havedone our best in this direction, it will be time enough to hazardopinions and offer suggestions. 

Also, let us bear in mind that in this question of religion, as in theother questions we have touched upon, it is only a tendency which wehave been considering--a fairly general tendency, to be sure, but stillonly a tendency. In some communities, in some families, in some sects, it may be hardly noticeable. 

At the moment I write these lines, the newspapers are full of a newmovement undertaken by leading church societies of various denominationsto have laws enacted, enforcing the observance of the Sabbath. They aimto bring about by this means, a return to the habits of church-going andBible reading, as they were in the days of our forefathers. The veryexistence of such a movement is sufficient evidence of the tendency theyseek to combat. Whether any law could be counted on to accomplish theirpurpose is another question, which need not concern us for the timebeing. 

If we go back to our main thread of enquiry and draw together theresults of our observations, they seem to offer a comparatively simplediagnosis of this supposedly mysterious disease which has gotten hold ofour young people. We have located the seat of the trouble and indicatedthe nature of the developments which have, so to speak, thrown themotives of conduct out of their accustomed balance. 

Obedience, discipline, respect for authority and traditions, consideration for others, fear of punishment, fear of consequences, fearof God, --these great check-weights to self-interest, self-seeking, havelost in weight and substance to such an extent that they no longer turnthe scales and point the way. If our diagnosis is on the whole correct, we have finished with the first part of the problem. 

 _N. Y. Times_, July 5, 1921. --Says lax parents make boy felons. Judge Talley analyzes youthful crime. Defiance begins at home. 

 Judge Alfred J. Talley of the Court of General Sessions told several thousand persons gathered in the Mall in Central Park for an Independence Day celebration by the Knights of Columbus yesterday afternoon that modern American children are not brought up with the proper respect for their parents, law and order, or constituted authority, and that the fault lies with their elders. Judge Talley described the situation as a "cancer on the body politic. " He drew a distinction between liberty and license and said that his experience in the criminal courts of New York had brought one great American failing very strongly home to him. 

 "The one thing the American people lack to-day, " he said, "is a proper method for bringing up their children. I see the results of this every day. The hardened criminals turn out to be youths of 19 and 20 years who first thrust themselves against law and order at 16 and 17 years, and who at 14 told their fathers that they were leaving school--and left. 

 "Behind this hardened criminal stands the sullen drab figure of a girl who tries to show how loyal she is to the vagabond in the hands of the law. It all began with a misguided idea of liberty. The youth is the one who told his father he had had all the education he needed and promptly became a street corner type, and the girl, she who silenced her mother when bound for a dance by tossing aside criticism of the indecent dress she wore. 

 "In our schools to-day the child stands defiant and the teacher is unable to use the only kind of discipline that would do any good. The parent at home fails to understand disciplinary methods, and so we have the picture of the father obeying the son instead of the son the father; and the mother obeys the daughter. "

 To support his contention, Judge Talley said that statistics supplied a few weeks ago by the New York State Prison Commission showed the average age of penitentiary inmates to be 19 years. "This means that they began their criminal careers at 16 and 17, an age at which no Judge sends them to State prison. What is to be done to stem this tide of youthful depravity? There is only one way--we must encourage morality in public and in private, which means that we must bring back to our American life high standards and high ideals. "

II

THE UP-TO-DATE PRINCIPLE

In the eyes of some good folks, the behavior of the girls and boys andyoung married people to-day appears totally unprincipled; and the goodfolks throw up their hands and declare "they can't understand it. " As amatter of fact, they haven't tried to understand it and most of them arevery far from understanding it. 

There are nearly always two sides to a question--to any question--and nomatter how strongly your personal views may incline you to take oneside, before passing judgment, it is no more than common fairness togive the other side a chance to explain and justify its attitude. Thereis certainly very little chance of convincing your opponents that theyare wrong, unless you have a fairly clear notion of what it is they havein mind. 

It is quite natural for a grandmother to regard as "unprincipled, " theconduct of this new generation. It is obviously not controlled by thesame principles that she has lived by. She is impressed and disturbedby the disappearance of her principles and the shocking effects. The"impossible notions" that have apparently taken their place are beyondher comprehension, but she certainly would not dignify them by the nameof principles. 

But if these "impossible notions" are all that the new generation has togo by, and if they represent its spirit and attitude toward the problemof life, it makes little difference whether they be called principles ornot, a principle of some sort is involved in them. 

The first thing to do, therefore, is to arrive at as clear anunderstanding as possible as to what this principle is and what itimplies. 

Very little observation is needed to arrive at the conclusion that theessence of this new principle is the right of the individual nature toits fullest expression, to its most untrammelled development. 

A large proportion of the new generation may not be consciously aware ofthis doctrine, or of their adhesion to it. But it is in the air and theyabsorb it; it grows up within them, as an unconscious product of otherinfluences; it is present in those about them, and the "herd instinct"causes them to adopt it. 

There are also a number who have given thought to the subject and areconvinced of the soundness and progress of the new principle. They areprepared to defend it and proclaim it with a touch of superiority. Hereand there, in magazine articles and newspapers, it is finding more orless authoritative expression and endorsement. 

The following quotations, for instance, are from an article whichappeared recently on the editorial page of the Hearst Newspapers. Theyrepresent some views on education by a leading exponent of advancedthought. 

 One great end of education that ought forever to be in mind is that the greatest enemy of attainment, as it is indeed of life itself, is Fear. 

 No man or woman can ever do good work, in the world, whatever be the task, until he has stricken from his hands and head and his heart the chains of Fear. 

 The very first lesson to teach a baby is to be unafraid. 

 Instead of that, fear is constantly resorted to in the family and in the school-room. We bribe, we threaten, we wheedle, we bull-doze. And by every such act, we do the child irreparable harm. 

 You ought to be much more thankful to God that your child defies you, than that he cringes before you. 

 It should always be kept in mind that what you are after with your child is not that he should learn obedience, but that he should learn how to govern himself. 

 The road to obedience is short, easy and nasty. All you need is a big stick. If you can be cruel and brutal enough, the little one will quickly learn to jump when you speak to him. 

This is a part of the new principle, forcibly and typically expressed. 

Is it any wonder that grandmother, brought up under the "Spare the rod, and spoil the child" and "Children should be seen, not heard"convictions, should find herself bewildered by such notions--that sheshould deem them "impossible. "

Another article of a somewhat different kind which appeared recently inthe Atlantic Monthly, was written by an Englishman, a moralist of themodern school. His lesson is addressed to women and the main point ofit, developed in a most interesting and reassuring way, is that they aretoo much afraid of conventional ideas, of public opinion. They shouldnot permit their aspirations and inclinations to be stifled by suchconsiderations, but have the courage to give freer rein to their innerlongings. 

He refers, in his article, to the fact that American women are said tobe far more advanced in this respect than their English cousins andapproves of their example. 

These, of course, are only scattered specimens of the many articleswhich have appeared and will continue to appear in support of the newprinciple. 

And in this connection a rather curious side-light has come to myattention repeatedly, within the past few years. Among a certain classof people, especially those who pride themselves on superiorintelligence and advanced thought, there has been a pronounced revivalof interest and admiration for the free verse and freer morals of WaltWhitman. He has been, so to speak, re-discovered and embraced as a guideand a prophet. His creed of life, so exuberantly and defiantlyexpressed, was the exalted importance of his own ego. Wherever hisdesires led him, wherever joy for himself was to be found, there wouldhe go, unabashed and inconsiderate. 

With these indications in mind, we may proceed to consider some actualexamples which will serve to illustrate. 

A certain young woman is well-born and well-bred, occupying a prominentsocial position, decidedly intelligent--and good-looking, to boot. Shehas a husband of her own class and kind, who has always been devoted toher, and three lovely children, two boys and a girl. 

She has apparently given considerable thought to the problem of life, and the point-of-view she arrived at finally would seem to be a typicalproduct of modern ideas. 

She believes first and foremost in the absolute right of the individualsoul to recognize no master but itself--to follow out its desires andaspirations to the fullest extent. She has a feeling of scorn andcontempt for conventions and conventional people. If you pay anyattention to them, or their narrow, sheep-like opinions, or allow themto interfere in any way with your freedom of action, you are belittlingyourself and your self-respect. 

You must never be afraid to obey your own impulses. They come fromwithin you, they are a part of your nature--your self--and that is whereyour true duty lies. It is better that you should be true to yourself, even at the expense of others, than that you should be afraid andcowardly. 

The very fact that a desire, or an impulse, makes itself felt within youis the main point. It is not really the things you _do_ that matter somuch, as your _wish_ to do them. If you wish to do a thing, and holdback out of cowardice, or fear of the consequences, that doesn't makeyou any better--only weaker and worse. You can't deny that the wish wasthere--without lying to yourself--so what's the use?

It is finer and braver to go on with it and attain at least thesatisfaction of a wish fulfilled. 

"But, " some one objects, "how about your obligations to others? Supposeby doing the thing you wish, you will harm them?"

This little lady's answer to such an objection is usually accompanied bya shrug and a mildly condescending expression. 

"If you are going to keep bothering your head about the effect of youractions on other people, might as well give up at the start and be anice little sheep. The game isn't worth the candle. 

"Besides, there's more humbug in that than any of the other bromides, weak natures prate about. Most people in this world have got to look outfor themselves. You can't hope to be anything, or do anything worthwhile without occasionally treading on some one's toes. It has alwaysbeen that way and if you're honest with yourself, you may as wellrecognize the fact and accept it philosophically. 

"In most cases the harm that you do is much less than you imagine. Thatusually takes care of itself, somehow. "

If people bore her, she doesn't believe in pretending that they interesther. She will not invite them to her house, or accept their invitations. 

If she has agreed to go somewhere, where she expects to amuse herselfand then, at the last moment, no longer feels in the mood for it, shecalls it off. Or if in the meantime, something else turns up that shewould prefer to do, she does not hesitate to switch to the thing sheprefers. 

If people don't like that, it is their affair. She has no intention ofcramping her freedom, denying her desires, on their account. What shedoes means more to her than it does to anybody else. There is no goodreason for her to pretend to be any different from what she is. 

Moreover, in this particular case, there can be very little doubt, amongthose who know her, that she practices what she preaches. This, too, issomething which occurs more frequently in the new generation than it didin the past. There is no great trouble in accommodating practice totheory--or rather the theory accommodates itself very readily to thekind of conduct which persons of this kind are ready to practice. 

For instance, the lady in question wanted to visit Chinatown in one ofthe large cities and arranged with a professional guide to be takenthere at night, alone with a girl friend. Among other things, they saw aChinaman smoking opium and this gave rise to a desire on her part toexperience the sensation for herself. The guide was prevailed upon, fora consideration, to procure her an outfit and a supply of opium; andthat very night in her room she took a try at an opium dream. Why not?

At another time, at a cabaret party, she was introduced to a somewhatnotorious young man of the Bohemian world. He was obviously dissolute, but talented and interesting. She danced with him, gave himencouragement, invited him to her home and was not afraid to be seengoing about with him frequently on terms of intimacy. Among otherthings, he was addicted to the cocaine habit--he sniffed the powder fromthe back of his hand--and in due time he talked to her about it. Hepresented her with a bottle of the drug and after that, she always had asupply in reserve which she used when the impulse came. Why not?

If her husband had any objection to things that she did, he soon learnedto keep them to himself. She could not and would not tolerate anyinterference with the rights of an individual soul. She must have thesame freedom that she conceded to him. The kind of thing he chose to do, apart from her, was a matter for him to decide in accordance with hisnature. The same rule must apply to her. The days of slavery had passed. Marriage was an arrangement between equals. 

In due course of time, the husband had to leave her and the children forwar service. While he was away, she fell in with another talented anddissipated Bohemian--a romantic-looking musician very much in the publiceye. Very quickly their infatuation for each other was a matter of opencomment on the part of the veriest on-looker. As he had the same ideathat she had about the rights of the individual, and the same contemptfor conventions and conventional people, there was no pretense ofconcealment, no need of observing the proprieties. 

When the husband returned from overseas, she informed him, with theutmost candor of what had taken place. There was no shame and noremorse. Why should there be? A simple statement of fact--the forces ofhuman nature in operation. She had found some one who appealed to herimpulses more strongly than he. That was a truth which had to beaccepted. The simplest way was to allow her to get a divorce. 

But what of the children?

A very simple answer. Whether they went with their father or stayed withtheir mother--or were taken by the grandparents--anything was reallybetter for children than being brought up in an atmosphere where all waspretense and whence love had flown. Of course she loved her children andalways would, but if they grew up to be the right sort, they wouldunderstand her motives and admire her the more for being true toherself. 

This case embodies the practical working of the new principle, carriedto an extreme. 

Here is another example of a different order: Two pretty girls ofeighteen or twenty were talking together in the seat in front of me, ina trolley car. They turned out to be telephone operators at centralswitchboards. They were talking over their plans, which contemplated avisit to the movies with two young men--a supper and dance afterwards. The young men were still to be heard from and as the girls were going toseparate places of employment the question was how to let each otherknow about final arrangements. For reasons best known to themselves, itwouldn't be wise to attempt that over the 'phone--they had better meetsomewhere. Whereupon one of the girls suggested a place convenient tothem both, where they could slip out and meet each other--at fouro'clock. She would "plug in" all the terminals on her switchboard, sothat all the lines in that central would be reported "busy" when peoplecalled up, and the other girl could do the same. Then they could talkthings over quietly. "Nothing to be afraid of. " And so they agreed. Whynot?

Here is another symptom:

A married woman of my acquaintance is decidedly old-fashioned in herrespect for conventions and moral standards. She has a sweet and rathershy daughter, who has been brought up closely under the mother's wing, and has never lost the habit of asking and telling her mothereverything. She is seventeen. 

One summer evening, recently, the daughter was called up on the 'phoneby one of her girl friends and asked to make one of the party, who werearranging an impromptu dance at a private house. The girl friend and herbrother would stop for her in their car and bring her home afterwards. 

When the invitation was referred to mother, after a moment of hesitationand worry about the propriety of the proceeding, she gave her consent. Shortly after, the friend and her brother stopped at the house and tookthe daughter with them. 

When she got back home, after midnight, she went to her mother's roomand told her, at her bed-side, what had happened. 

After they got to the house where the dance was to be and the others hadall gathered there, it was decided for some reason to adjourn to anotherhouse. To get to this other house, the daughter was put into anautomobile with a girl and two young men. She sat in front, beside theyoung man who was driving. She knew him only slightly, had danced withhim a few times and thought him rather nice. 

On the way, after chatting and joking, this young man stopped the car, then suddenly kissed her and took her in his arms. She didn't know whatto do. When she looked around, she found that the same thing was goingon in the back seat between the other boy and girl. 

The young man beside her wouldn't listen to her objections. They seemedto take it for granted. If you liked each other, why shouldn't you? Hesaid he liked her. 

The occurrence is fairly typical of up-to-date standards--except in oneparticular. Most girls refrain from mentioning it to mother. 

Here is another symptom, of slightly different complexion which appliesto married life and suggests the extent to which the new principle isbearing fruit, in society circles. 

It was brought to my notice, last summer, that in one colony on LongIsland where I happened to be, there were fourteen different houseswhere the wife had deserted the family and the husband was keeping housealone with the children. This was among members of the fashionable set. In each of these cases, of course, the wife had come across some manwho, for the time being at least, appealed to her more than her husbandand a divorce had been obtained in some convenient way, or was in theprocess of obtaining. 

It usually happens when a discussion takes place concerning theimmorality of the present day, that some member of the party willadvance the opinion in a more or less authoritative way that thetendency in question is confined almost entirely to the so-called uppercrust of society and is consequently not entitled to the significancewhich is being attributed to it. The great mass of the people, in theirsimple homes and simple communities, are not in the least contaminatedor disturbed by it. They are just as moral and clean-minded as they everwere, probably more so. Among the rich and idle upper classes, there hasalways been a lot of dissipation and immorality in all countries, at alltimes. If America is getting a little more than usual of it, at present, that is nothing to get excited about. 

In the face of such sentiments, cheerily and forcibly expressed, theaverage gossip and fault-finder is usually willing to acquiesce with ashrug. And so the discussion ends with a feeling that an attempt hasbeen made to exaggerate the importance of a restricted andunrepresentative class. 

As a matter of fact, this kind of talk would appear to be founded onneither accurate information nor sound reasoning. 

As regards the lower and middle classes--including those in smallcommunities--especially those in small communities--it has been calledto my attention repeatedly by those in a position to know that thechange in standards, the so-called demoralization, has been quite asextreme as among the upper crust. And this view is in accord with my ownnotion. 

Two important agents of the new movement are the automobile and themoving picture show. The mechanic's daughter, the store-keeper'sdaughter, the farmer's daughter like to go to the movies. It may be atfirst the mother, or father, took care to find out who the daughter wasgoing with and how. A girl friend and her brother. How are they going?In the friend's automobile. Another time the father runs the daughterover to the friend's house in the Ford car. Another time the daughterruns herself over to the friend's house in the Ford car. It is only ashort way. Or again, it is the friend's brother who stops for her, onhis way to get the sister. After a while, this going to the movies hasbecome such a frequent occurrence, that it is accepted as a matter ofcourse, without bother or comment. If perchance the daughter comes home, some night, later than usual and the mother feels uneasy, theexplanation is very simple. Instead of going to the nearby theatre, thedaughter and her friend went over to a neighboring town where a moreinteresting picture was showing. In the end the daughter goes off aboutwhen she pleases and comes back in the same way. 

Very often the stories she sees on the screen are largely seasoned withmaterial that stirs the imagination and emotions in a hectic sexual way. If the girl and a young man get into a Ford car together to go home bymoonlight, is it to be wondered at that the car comes to a stop on thelonely road and they forget old-fashioned proprieties?

The extent to which this sort of thing has been going on in many of thesmall town communities, according to the information I have received, isfar too serious to be glossed over with easy optimism. In one relativelysmall and primitive district I happened to know of, more than one-halfof the families with marriageable daughters have within the last threeyears had to bear the shame of illegitimate off-spring. 

In the cities and larger towns, the same tendency appears to be in fullswing among the shop-girls, stenographers, and daughters in the humblerwalks of life. 

III

REASON AND EXPERIENCE

In any case, from the examples and indications which we have cited andcountless others of a similar kind which come within the experience ofalmost every one, nowadays, there can be little room for doubt that thenew principle of conduct is very much in evidence throughout the lengthand breadth of our land. Consciously or unconsciously, it is affectingthe character and determining the point-of-view of vast numbers in thenew generation. 

If you attempt to reason with them and they are willing and intelligentenough to express themselves frankly, their answer and justification forthe way they are going sums up about as follows:

"Why shouldn't I think of myself and do what I like and want, as oftenas I get the chance?

"As long as I steer clear of the law and avoid breaking my neck, whatother consequences are there that I need to keep worrying about?

"Why shouldn't I be a pleasure-seeker and a pleasure-lover? Whyshouldn't I follow my inclinations and do what I like, whenever andwherever I get the chance?"

Why not?

If you expect them to act contrary to their inclinations, to denythemselves the pleasures that they want, and to do things they do notfeel like doing, there ought to be a good and sufficient reason. Itought to be so clear and convincing that it can be accepted with a wholeheart and a settled resolve to abide by it. 

The young people of to-day are made of exactly the same stuff as theyoung people of any other day. They have the same sort of instincts andthe same underlying aspiration to get the most and the best out of life. Owing to altered conditions, for reasons which we have outlined, theyare being left to go about it very largely in their own way, with lesscoercion from without, than young people have probably ever known beforein the history of civilization. 

How far will you get by telling them that the way they are going isimmoral and sinful? They can answer by saying "If I choose to be immoraland satisfy myself, why shouldn't I? I'm not afraid of being sinful, orany of those old-fashioned scare-crows. "

How far will you get by advising that the rod be taken out again andthat they be beaten into submission to forms of authority which they nolonger believe in or respect? This might result in teaching themduplicity and cunning and resentment, but probably nothing morebeneficial to their spiritual health. 

It seems to me more sensible to be patient with them and talk mattersover with them and try to answer their question in exactly the samespirit in which it is asked. 

The question is "Why shouldn't I go ahead and gratify my inclinations inany way that suits myself. "

There are many reasons, some of which ought not to be very difficult forany one to understand. Broadly speaking, they are of three differentkinds--First, experience; second, affection; third, faith. 

Let us examine them in order, in a simple, leisurely way, and try tomake clear the essence of each. 

What does the question of experience lead to and imply?

First, there is one's own experience; then there is the experience ofother people. 

Our own experience teaches us very quickly that we often have impulseswhich it would be a mistake to obey. If you feel like pulling a strangedog's tail and the dog turns on you and bites your hand and the woundhas to be cauterized, and you have to go through a lot of pain andtrouble and fear of hydrophobia, one lesson will probably be enough foryou. 

Suppose you are overheated and feel like sitting in a draft and lettingthe cool air blow on you, and this is followed by a heavy cold whichlays you up for a week or two?

Or suppose you are on top of a tall building and feel a strong impulseto jump out and go sailing through the air? Many people have thisimpulse, but they have previously had enough experience to know whathappens to people who fall from high places. 

The number of such examples might be multiplied indefinitely, but enoughhas been suggested to indicate the principle. It is quite obvious andchildishly simple--the lessons taught to each and every one of us by ourown experience. 

Now let us follow this path a step further. It is quite possible for youto have impulses and inclinations to do things which might cause youirreparable harm. The consequences of these things are not somethingthat you can remember and foresee, because in your own experience theyhave not occurred before. If you stick to your idea of obeying no onebut yourself and of being unafraid to do what you want, the lesson instore for you may come too late. 

Certain impulses of yours, if followed, may cause death. Others maycause permanent injury to yourself, or irreparable harm to others. 

A little boy seeing an automobile coming along the road sometimes has animpulse to run across the road in front of the automobile, for the funand excitement of it. If you are a boy and feel like it, why shouldn'tyou?

You have never tripped and fallen in front of an automobile--you havenever misjudged the speed of it and been struck and killed that way. 

You have never seen any other boy killed that way. There is nothing inyour own experience to deter you. 

If the automobile happens to hit you, you will have acquired experiencethat might be useful to you, but the cost is too great. If you are notdead, you may be crippled for life. 

If you are convalescing from typhoid fever, you are likely to have aravenous appetite. You feel very well and you derive considerablepleasure from the milk-toast and soft-boiled eggs you have been getting, but they do not begin to satisfy you. Every instinct within you callsfor a big piece of juicy beef-steak and fried potatoes. There is noreason in your experience why you should not gratify your desire--youmay have been told by the doctor that it isn't time for that yet and youmust be content with what is ordered for you. But if you believe indoing what you feel like and the doctor is out of the way, why not haveyour beef-steak? I happen to know of two separate cases where thisoccurred--friends of mine. The doctor in each case apparently took toomuch for granted and failed to impress upon their minds forcibly enoughthe need of obeying his orders rather than their own inclinations. Theexperience came too late--because it brought death with it. 

Or suppose you are in some out-of-the-way place and are hot and tiredand very thirsty and the only water available comes from a supply whichis not fit to drink? You may have been told this by some one who knowsmore about it than you do, but if you believe in ignoring other people'sopinions and thinking only of yourself--and the water is cool and clearand you feel like drinking it, why shouldn't you? Suppose it turns outthat clear, cool water may be polluted with cholera, or yellow fever, orother deadly germs? You may never recover from the effects of it. 

These are crude, haphazard illustrations of a principle which isconstantly at work in human lives in a great variety of ways. Theobvious meaning of it is that your experience, or your own lack ofexperience, in many questions and emergencies may not be enough for youto go by, or depend upon. 

Most young people have had very little experience of many things thatare liable to have a vital bearing on their own lives, their own selves, their own hope of happiness. 

As a matter of fact it must be evident to any one who will reflect amoment, that no one individual, however long he may have lived, orhowever full and varied his life may have been, can possibly have had inhis own personal experience more than a small fraction of the thingsthat may occur and do keep occurring in the world of humanity. 

If he has led a clean, healthy, vigorous life, he cannot haveexperienced the feelings and problems of a drunkard and dope-fiendslowly submerging in dissipation and vice. If he married young and hasknown the joy of entire devotion to a loyal and loving helpmate, hecannot have had the experience of a profligate who has been divorcedfour times and is about to take another chance with a dashinggrass-widow. Hundreds and thousands of situations that other humanbeings are called upon to face, he cannot have gone through on his ownaccount. 

But if we are able to find out and bear in mind the experience of otherpeople, we can make use of it, as a warning and a guide, in much thesame way as if it had happened to ourselves. If I have seen a boy try torun across the road in front of an automobile and stumble and getkilled, it is not necessary for me to get killed in order to appreciatethe danger of the experiment. You may never have seen this happen, butif I have and I tell you about it, you can use the information you getfrom me and still save yourself the necessity of risking your neck. 

This principle is not at all difficult to understand. It has always beenapplied, to greater or less extent, in the lives of all human beings, everywhere. It is no more than common sense to profit by the experiencesof others, and try to avoid their mistakes. 

It seems strange that such a universal principle should be overlooked bythe up-to-date minds of the new generation. Yet the least little glimmerof light from it would in itself seem to be a sufficient answer to theirquestion. 

"Why shouldn't I go ahead and gratify all my impulses?"

Because although your own limited experience may be insufficient towarn you and guide you, the experience of other people has shownrepeatedly that such and such impulses usually lead to such and suchconsequences which would be very harmful to you. 

In the long run the results of others' experience are a better guide tofollow than your selfish impulses. You wish to be intelligent andreasonable, don't you? Well, if you lack experience and understanding, it is neither intelligent nor reasonable to imagine that you are thebest judge of the consequences. 

Of course, the examples we have cited so far--the strange dog thatbites, the boy and the automobile, typhoid fever and polluted water--arevery elementary. Also the questions they involve--the harmfulconsequences of certain impulses--are direct and immediate and entirelymaterial. They serve well enough to answer a question and illustrate aprinciple and that is all they were intended for. The principle is worthbearing in mind, because its application extends to all sorts ofcomplicated questions of conduct. One reason that the young people ofto-day are so confused in their moral ideas is just because they havebeen allowed to overlook this simple, fundamental principle. 

It frequently happens that the most important consequences of the thingyou do, or fail to do, are not direct and immediate but fairly remoteand obscure. An individual without much experience or knowledge of theworld may easily neglect to consider them. 

For instance, I have known several cases where young men of good familyforged their fathers' names. They were up-to-date young men, of course. But even so, how could they come to do such a thing?

By gratifying their inclinations, in the first place, in accordance withthe up-to-date idea. One natural consequence of this is that, in orderto gratify a new inclination, or as a result of having gratified thelast one, it becomes necessary to have more money. That is one of theannoyances of civilization, which even the most advanced of the newgeneration haven't yet been able to change. Many of their pet impulsescannot be indulged without money. It is an old-fashioned convention andvery irksome, but for the time being, at least, it has to be made thebest of. 

The young men in question eventually found themselves faced with thisproblem. They had to have money. How could they get it? Not by askingtheir mother, or father, for it. That source of supply had been used upto the last drop, with the help of all sorts of pretexts, subterfugesand broken promises. There was no longer any available friend orrelative to borrow from. That resource had also been used up. They hadno jewelry left to pawn--that had been used up, too. 

So finally, for the want of a better way, they arrived at this scheme ofsigning their fathers' names to checks. 

After all, looking at it from their point-of-view, and bearing in mindthe freedom of the individual, why shouldn't they?

It would do no great harm to their fathers--no real harm at all. Theyhad plenty of money in the bank. 

But it would constitute forgery--a serious offense, against the law. "What of that? So is speeding an automobile against the law. Who'safraid of breaking the law--if you have the nerve?"

Is there no such thing as right and wrong? Don't you know in your heartthat this would be wrong--very wrong?

"I've been fed up with that kind of talk all my life. What other peoplethink about such things is their affair. I believe in deciding formyself and doing as I like. 

"The main thing I've got to consider is my chance of getting away withit and what is liable to happen if I don't. I am sure I can make a goodenough imitation of my father's signature to get the check cashed at oneof the stores the family deals with. If it goes to the bank along withother checks and the amount is not large, there is small chance of anyattention being paid to it. If it once gets into father's account at thebank, as likely as not it will never be discovered. And even if itshould be, at some future date, no father would bring a charge againsthis own son. So the worst that can happen is another one of those familyscenes which I have gone through before. 

"The most important thing of all is that I need the money--I've got tohave it--and this is the least objectionable way I can think of to getit. "

This is presumably the process of reasoning the young men in questionwent through. In each case the immediate consequence of the act wasapparently harmless and quite satisfactory to them. They got the moneythey wanted, the checks were taken in at the bank, time passed and noone knew the difference. 

The indirect and remote consequences of this kind of conduct, however, came eventually. They nearly always do. The forgeries in each case wererepeated--why shouldn't they be? And the day finally arrived when theywere brought to light. In each of the cases the suffering andheart-break of the mothers and fathers was pitiful and beyond recoveryin this world. That was one of the indirect consequences. 

One of the young men, whom I had known as a bright, attractivecollegian, was sent to prison, eventually, in spite of all his familycould do. Another died in an institution for incurables. All forfeitedtheir birthright of home, family, decent associations and ended up indegradation and wreckage. 

That was one of the remote consequences. 

Let us take a more usual example, much less extreme--the young man whosteps on the throttle of his automobile because he feels like goingfast. 

As far as his own experience is concerned, where is the reason for himto deny his impulse?

If a traffic cop happens to see him, he might get "pinched" and fined. That's about the only thing worth considering. But if he keeps his eyesopen and his companions in the back seat watch out behind, there's notmuch chance of that. And after all, suppose he does happen to "getpinched, " what of it? There are plenty of others. His father will haveto pay a fine and there will be a little scolding and unpleasantness inthe family, at the worst. 

As for the danger, who's afraid of that? It only makes it more excitingand more fun. 

The result is logical enough, if you start with the premise that eachindividual is free to follow his inclinations and decide for himself. 

Very few young men have sufficient experience of their own, orsufficient reflection and wisdom, to give due weight to the indirect andremote consequences which may come from such conduct. 

Let us pause and imagine a few of them. 

In the first place, an automobile skimming along the road at the rate ofsixty or seventy miles an hour has in it elements of danger which areentitled to some consideration. The danger is not only for those who arein the car, but also for others who may wish to use the same road. Anaccumulated mass of experience has amply demonstrated this. That is theunderlying reason for the speed laws--not that young men may be"pinched" by "traffic cops" and fathers be made to pay fines. 

If the young man driving the car were the only one concerned in thedanger, it might be different. He could claim the right to risk his ownneck when he felt like it, and it might be conceded to him. But such isnot the case--such is never the case--other people cannot help beingaffected by his conduct. His companions in the car, their families, hisown family, other people on the road and all their families, may bevery much concerned in a possible accident caused by his recklessness. 

If he kills a little girl, or a boy on a bicycle, or a lady coming outof a cross-road, or if the damage is merely the injury of a few peopleand the wrecking of a car, there are sure to be unpleasant consequencesfor the young man himself. 

So much for the question of accident or danger of accident, but there isanother question of another sort involved. 

Suppose the young man has promised his mother and father that he wouldnot drive fast--never above thirty miles an hour--suppose it was on thisdistinct understanding that their anxiety was allayed and he was trustedto take the car by himself wherever he liked?

Does it make any difference to him whether he breaks a promise--to hismother and father?

He can say to himself that it is only a natural fussiness on their part, and as they are not in the car, they won't know anything about it. 

But sooner or later they do know about it; such things nearly alwayshave a way of coming to light. It is an old saying which has been verygenerally confirmed that, in the long run, "the truth will out. " One ofthe girls in the car tells somebody how fast they went and that somebodyrefers to it before others until it gets to the boy's mother andfather. What harm to the boy? A little scolding, perhaps, and arepetition of the warning and the promise?

That's only the superficial consequence. There is a deeper and moreremote one. The parents' confidence in their boy receives a shock. Theboy can't always be trusted to keep his word. Also he is inclined to bereckless and irresponsible. 

The parents have always idolized the boy; the father has never ceasedlooking forward to the day when he could turn over to his son a bigshare of his responsibilities and see him carry on the name and prestigeof the family. It is the most natural and fondest hope that fathershave. 

This hope begins to be undermined when the boy does something whichshows that he cannot be trusted. If he will break his word and take areckless chance, merely for the sake of gratifying a trivialinclination, what is to keep him from doing so, on other occasions forthe same reason? The same spirit and the same point-of-view are certainto find repeated opportunities for the same sort of irresponsibleconduct. 

When, in the course of time, the realization of this finally comes hometo the mother and father, the consequences, although remote, are apt tobe extremely serious for all concerned--including the boy. 

His character is irresponsible and untrustworthy. His word, or promise, is of no account--he cannot be counted on to keep it. That has beenproved by his conduct--unmistakably. 

What the harm is to an individual of developing a character of thiskind--or a lack of character--is a big and fairly complicated subjectwhich is apparently not much considered by up-to-date young people, whoare satisfied to judge things from the point-of-view of selfishness andpersonal experience. It may be left for discussion later on. 

The harm to mother and father and members of the family is also a matterwhich they incline to imagine is no concern of theirs. According to thenew principle, the main consideration is one's own ego and its right tofreedom. This question, too, may be left for later discussion. 

But there still remains a harm and a loss of a practical, material kind, which in due course is pretty sure to come to the young man, himself. Asit has a direct bearing on his pleasures and inclinations, even the mostselfish individual should find it worth considering. 

If you do things that are reckless and irresponsible, if you break yourword and fail to keep your promise, the people who cease to trust you, those who have most to do with you, will treat you accordingly. Thosewho have it in their power to contribute largely to your enjoyment, andto your opportunities, will refrain from doing so. Invitations, friendships, relationships of various kinds that might have been at yourdisposal, will be withheld from you. 

To get the most out of life, even from an entirely material and selfishpoint-of-view, you need a lot of help from other people. First andforemost you need it from your own family, in countless ways. 

Suppose your own father, as a result of your irresponsibility, refusesto let you have an automobile to break the speed laws with? Suppose heis forced by experience to realize that you can't be trusted with money, any more than you can be trusted with an automobile? This realization issure to be a source of great disappointment and sorrow to him, but hehas to accept it. He must abandon his hope of turning over hisresponsibilities to you. If money is placed at your disposal, you may beexpected to gamble with it on the stock exchange, or the race-track, orto squander it in gratifications of an unworthy and demoralizing kind. Ayoung man who thinks only of gratifying his inclinations, who is notafraid to be reckless and inconsiderate of others, and who fails to keephis word, is hardly a fit person to be placed in control of money. Itfrequently happens that a father feels it a duty, when he makes hiswill, to tie up the family inheritance in such a way that it will bebeyond the reach of an untrustworthy son. 

So that the remote and indirect consequences of this kind of conduct maybe more harmful to a young man than his lack of experience andunderstanding makes him aware of, at the time being. 

How about the young woman of superior intellect and breeding, who had aninclination to smoke opium, on one occasion, and to sniff cocaine, onanother?

Suppose she had been better informed on the subject than she apparentlywas. Suppose she happened to have a friend, who had been connected withone of the state institutions for drug addicts, and this friend had toldher about the inmates--how hopeless and pitiful their degradationwas--how abject their slavery to the drug sensation for which theycontinually yearned. No way has been found to cure them, because theyhave no will to be cured. And the beginnings of the habit are so oftenaccidental and trivial--curiosity, or bravado, or carelessness on thepart of a practitioner. A Harvard college student, of good family, forinstance, was on a spree in Boston, with some friends--they went to anopium joint and thought it would be fun to try the sensation. Thisparticular boy remained in the den twenty-four hours, under theinfluence. That was the beginning--and the end. He went there again--hegot himself a lay-out--and is now a hopeless wreck in the stateinstitution, twenty-one years old. Another is a society woman who wasgiven a dose of heroin and that one dose proved sufficient for herundoing. The craving for it came and she wanted more and more. 

Or suppose some one had told her about a very remarkable case which cameto my attention, a number of years ago. Four young physicians wereassociates on the staff of one of our leading medical institutions. Aconsiderable part of their time was devoted to research work and amongother things they started experimenting with the effects of cocaine, which was a comparatively recent discovery. They were brilliant youngmen of unusual character and promise, but all four succumbed to thecocaine habit. The last of them died in pitiful degradation, within fiveyears of their first experiment. 

Experience has shown that just as there are certain poisons which thebodily functions are unable to resist, so there are certain drugs whichhave the effect of sapping the will and distorting the judgment. Thecraving which they leave in their wake may very easily become socompelling that human nature cannot resist it. 

So that if any society woman has sufficient understanding of thesubject, there is plenty of reason why she should dismiss an inclinationto try opium-smoking, or cocaine sniffing. The impulse is mere whim, silly curiosity--the consequences may be degrading, terrible. 

But if she believes in paying no heed to the conventional ideas of otherpeople, and is lacking in experience and knowledge of her own, she maybe very well pleased with herself for her daring. "Fools rush in whereangels fear to tread"--that is an old saying which suggests thatignorant people, defying the counsels of experience, were known to existbefore now--only in the past they were called "fools, " whereas to-daythey prefer to be considered "exponents of advanced thought, " with asuperior point-of-view, inaugurating a new era of "emancipation. "

It is not my purpose here to go on multiplying examples. I merely wishedto indicate as simply and clearly as possible an underlying, fundamentalprinciple. It is at work in countless ways, in everybody's life, nearlyall the time. Personal impulses and inclinations may be veryshort-sighted, very unlovely, very unworthy. Greed, murder, arson, lust, theft, lying, betrayal--are only a few samples of the variety ofimpulses which may come and do come frequently to various individualsupon occasion. 

Our own limited experience and a little reason may be a sufficient guidein many cases. They teach us to overrule certain inclinations, whoseconsequences we understand and which we deem contrary to our interests. 

In many other cases, the consequences may be just as contrary to ourinterests, though they lie beyond our own experience and presentunderstanding. For that reason people have been taught throughout thecenturies to accept and be guided by the accumulated experience andwisdom of those who have gone before. This accumulated experience hasbeen preserved and made available to each new generation, in manyways--traditions, conventions, customs, familiar quotations, standardbooks, the schools and the Bible. Most of all, it has been the specialcare and function of parents to instill it into their children. For thefirst ten or fifteen years of life, children are constantly being toldwhat to do and what not to do, in all sorts of contingencies. And whatthey are told is the result of accumulated experience in crystallizedpractical form. 

In the days of obedience, discipline and fear of punishment, childrenaccepted and respected this guidance, as authoritative. They formed thehabit of doing not what they felt like, but what was considered rightand best for them. Very often the true reasons, the complicated motivesand remote consequences, involved in a question of conduct were notcomprehended by the young people, and only vaguely sensed by theirparents. They were traditional ideas, generally approved by right-mindedpeople and passed along. Their origin, in nearly all cases, was theaccumulated experience and wisdom of people who did comprehend. 

So it happens that a young woman, or a young man, of the new school, without respect for old-fashioned teachings, and with insufficientexperience, or knowledge of their own, can fall into the error ofimagining that their selfish interests are best served by gratifyingeach passing inclination. 

Their first shallow mistake, as I have tried to show, is in overlookingthe lessons of others' experience. 

This whole point-of-view, of course, is absolutely selfish and for thetime being, I have been content to meet them on their own ground andanswer them in terms of absolute selfishness. Even on the assumptionthat a human being is a kind of animal, which feels no need ofconsideration for others' welfare, and is devoid of any higheraspirations than a full measure of selfish enjoyment--even then, purelyas a question of intelligence, a matter of policy, there are excellentreasons why various impulses and inclinations should be resisted anddenied. The nature of these reasons I have attempted to suggest and makeclear by some haphazard examples and as previously noted, the basis ofthem all is Experience. 

IV

AFFECTION

There remain two other sets of reasons why our selfish inclinationsshould often be denied--affection and faith. They are of a higher andfiner order. We will take them one at a time. 

The conscious life of a human being is by no means limited to theperception of sensations and the exercise of reason. These are importantfunctions, but they are not all. A human being is also provided with aheart, which is capable of feeling sympathy for other human beings--forall living things. This sympathetic feeling may cover a widerange--pity, commiseration, friendship, admiration, devotion, adoration. 

It is not the nature of mankind to live an isolated existence, inloneliness. Boys and girls, men and women, from the beginning of life tothe end, yearn for the companionship of others with whom they can sharetheir thoughts and feelings, their pleasures and their pains. Throughassociation with others come affectionate feelings for certain ones. Weattach ourselves to them with bonds of sympathy, understanding, love. 

The feeling of affection is such a normal and essential part of humanlife that it seeks to find expression at every opportunity. Awarm-hearted child will lavish it on a kitten, or a rag doll; or willshow it for a mongrel dog. If the kitten, or the dog is hurt, or sick, or even hungry, the girl or boy will be distressed by its trouble andwant to help it. 

This is a primitive form of the feeling; carried to its full developmentin the heart of a sensitive, noble nature it becomes one of the mostbeautiful and vital of human attributes. 

As we share our thoughts and feelings with another and are allowed toshare his in return, our centre of interest expands, as it were, and theessence of life within us enriches itself by this sympathetic minglingwith the essence of the other. His thoughts, his feelings, his welfareare no longer a matter of indifference to us. As our sympathy andattachment grow, we become more and more concerned in this other'sinterests; they become a part of our existence, in a strange and lovelyway, just as real and just as dear to us as if they were our own. Anypleasure, or good fortune, becomes doubly grateful, if we may share itwith him; no pleasure is worth considering, if in order to obtain it, wewould be obliged to cause him a deprivation. We cannot forget hiswelfare, or his happiness, we do not wish to forget his welfare or hishappiness, because through our sympathy and affection, the essence ofanother life has become inexpressively near and dear to us. 

To a greater or less degree, this capacity for affection is inherent inhuman kind, from the lowest to the highest. It is a most precious humanquality and it opens the gates of life to a sort of satisfaction that isinfinitely bigger and finer and more lasting than anything that can beobtained from the mere gratification of selfish and material impulses. 

Now, while it is true that practically everybody is aware of thisfeeling and has a need for affection and sympathy, not all people by anymeans have big enough hearts, or fine enough natures, to respond to theneed very deeply. Cold, superficial, self-centered people may go throughlife giving a very small modicum of sympathy or affection to anybody andreceiving very little in return. Many a man is incapable and unworthy ofbeing a real true friend to anybody. He may have brains and breeding andplenty of animal desires, but in his heart there is no understanding ofwhat it means to be devoted to a welfare not his own. The same is trueno doubt of a great many women, those whose characters are too fickleand unstable to permit of any deep and lasting attachment. Fortunately, even in the case of such men and women, if they marry and have children, some of the joy and meaning of this heart-life is still vouchsafed them. They feel it for their sons and daughters. 

If they have no children and are unmarried, there are mothers andfathers, brothers and sisters to keep alive some measure of sympathy andendearment. A human being who is totally bereft of such attachments, without any feeling that comes from the heart for any one, is such arare exception that he need not be considered. Such lives, if they doexist, would appear to normal beings as very pitiful. 

As a usual thing, for most of us, the affections are constantly inoperation. Certain people who are near and dear to us are never reallyout of our lives at all. Consciously or subconsciously, we carry themwith us wherever we go, tucked away in our hearts, ready to rise up atthe slightest provocation and take a vital part in our innermostdeliberations. 

A little boy or girl of the right sort, with the right kind of lovingparents, grows up naturally with this feeling for them. In all sorts ofnew experiences and questions of conduct, the thought comesspontaneously: "What will mother think about this?" "She'll be terriblysurprised when I tell her that. " "Father will be pleased and proud whenhe knows what I've done. " "I don't think she'd approve of that. " "He'lllaugh at me, when he hears this. " And so forth and so on, countlesstimes, in countless connections. 

Mothers and fathers carry around a similar feeling with regard to theirchildren. Things that they see, things that they hear, things that theyread, plans and projects of all kinds, are spontaneously colored by theconsideration of their effect on the son or daughter--surprise, pleasure, disappointment, good or ill. 

The same thing takes place to a remarkable extent between a man and awoman who love each other deeply. Nothing of importance can happen toone, without an immediate reflection of the effect and bearing it willhave on the other. A frequent result of this is that, in order to givepleasure to the other, one will act contrary to his own selfishinclination. And the anticipation of this pleasure to be given to theother can be strong enough to transform this denial and deprivation ofself into a sweeter and finer form of satisfaction. 

This same order of feeling, based on sympathy and affection, springingfrom the heart, extends and ramifies and attaches itself in a greatvariety of ways, in the life of a human being, as we have alreadysuggested. 

While instances of complete devotion of one nature to another arecomparatively rare, in any walk of life, and while most individuals arelacking in the bigness of heart and depth of feeling to be capable ofit, under any circumstances, the importance of affection comes home tonearly everybody, to greater or less extent, and is treasured up as oneof the essentials of life. 

As a result of this human sympathy and affection, it would seem onlynatural and obvious that there should come to everyone a realization ofthe fact that in many of the things we do, for our own good or ill, other people besides ourselves can't help being concerned. We may, bythinking only of our own inclinations and seeking to gain our selfishends, be doing great harm and injustice to them. If other people areaffected by what we do, and they have feelings of the same sort as ours, are not they, too, entitled to some consideration?

This idea seems so simple and evident that any thinking person might beexpected to admit it and understand it. Yet, as we have seen repeatedlyin discussing the attitude of the new generation, it is one of thequestions about which there prevails the greatest misconception andconfusion of mind. Up-to-date young people, absorbed in the habit ofdoing what they like and deciding for themselves, very easily fall intothe way of overlooking this consideration almost entirely. They fail tograsp the importance of the part that sympathy and affection have beenassigned to play in their own natures; and at the same time they losesight of the feelings and interests of others who must be affected bythe consequences of their acts. Lack of consideration for others hascome to be spoken of currently as one of the marked characteristics ofthis new generation. 

For this reason, if for no other, it may be just as well to linger onthe subject and make explanations doubly plain, rather than leave anypossible ground for a continuation of the confusion andmisunderstanding. 

Suppose you were walking along a country road and you came upon a nicelittle boy, named Harry, one of your neighbor's sons, and Harry wassitting hunched up on a stump, sniffling and sobbing, with tearsstreaming down his cheeks. Upon enquiring the cause of his trouble, youlearn that a bigger boy, Jake, had taken away Harry's apple. Strictlyspeaking, the apple didn't belong to either of them, but Harry hadspied it on the tree and after a great deal of determined effort hadmanaged to climb out on the branch and shake it down. Then Jake camealong and took it. 

Now, to see a little fellow sobbing with disappointment, deprived ofsomething his heart was set on and which he had worked hard to get, isenough to arouse a feeling of sympathy in any normal and kindly person. You feel sorry for Harry and you'd like to do something for him. 

Suppose you happen to look along the road, just then, and you spy Jakeseated on a fence rail with an air of contentment, proceeding to eat theapple--what would you feel like doing and saying to him? Suppose youcontrolled yourself and asked him quietly why he took that apple awayfrom Harry, and he replied, with a defiant grin "Because I wanted it. Ilike apples, and this is a fine big one!" If you continue to talkquietly to Jake, and show him Harry sobbing on the stump, and make himrealize the situation, as like as not it will end up by Jake's saying:"All right--if he feels as bad as that, let him have it. I didn't knowhe was that kind of a cry baby. " And he will pass up his owninclination, rather than cause that much harm to another. 

That is a very primitive example which illustrates the principle in itssimplest form. In the first place you are moved by sympathy andconsideration for another, when you feel sorry for Harry and want tohelp him, and so is Jake when he is willing to forego his own desire forHarry's sake--although he lacked consideration in the first place, intaking something on which another's heart was set. 

Here is another example:

A boy, George, is an only son and very dear to his parents, who havewatched over him always with loving care. During the summer vacation, George has been invited to make a week's visit at the home of aschool-mate which is in another state. The trip is a longer and morecomplicated one than George has ever undertaken by himself, and hismother cannot help feeling apprehensive and anxious at the thought ofpossible accidents and emergencies which may occur. It involves a nightrun on a steamboat, a railroad journey and a long automobile ridethrough mountainous country. The mother, not wishing to stand in the wayof her boy's pleasure, gives a reluctant consent. She makes no attemptto disguise the anxiety she will feel while he is on the way, andimpresses on his mind the importance of sending her a telegram, as soonas he has arrived safely at his destination. George laughs at her fears, boy-fashion, and promises to do as she wishes. 

No sooner has he started on his way, than the mother's heart enters upona period of increasing perturbation. Suppose something should happen tothe steamer--that it should break down, or catch fire, or run on areef--or that there should be a railroad accident--or that George shouldlose his ticket, or be robbed of his money and find himself in somefar-away spot, not knowing what to do with no one to go to? Then thatlong motor ride through deserted country--suppose it should be rainingand the roads slippery and they should try to make it too fast? So manythings are among the possibilities, and one can never be sure until itis over. 

Some people might feel inclined to smile at this account of a mother'sapprehension, but it is only a natural attribute of devoted love, ineffably sweet and beautiful. While the precious child is exposed topossible dangers, she cannot help feeling thus. She talks to the fatherabout it, wanting the comfort of his reassurance; and she lies awakethat night imagining things and counting the hours that must separateher from the telegram announcing George's safety. 

At last the time comes when, according to schedule, she may expect themessage. She waits about, in momentary suspense, for the telephone ringfrom Western Union. 

Now suppose the minutes pass and then the hours, until the mother'sapprehension grows into feverish and unreasoning alarm. She gets word toher husband and communicates her alarm to him. As more time passes, theconviction comes that something has happened to their son, and somethingmust be done. They attempt to get a long distance telephone connectionwith the home of George's friend, but after a long delay and variousappeals, the report comes that there is a break-down on the linesomewhere, in the mountain section. They get in communication with thesteamboat offices and the railroad station, and after interminableefforts finally ascertain that there has been no accident on eitherline. There remains the motor trip--or the possibility of a personalmishap to George at some stage of the journey--and no way of telling. Inthe end, they send a telegram to the mother of George's friend, andresign themselves to wait, in an agony of suspense for the answer. 

Individuals who are phlegmatic, matter-of-fact, and not very intense intheir feelings might be inclined to ridicule this anxiety and sufferingon the part of the parents, for so slight a cause; they would fail tounderstand it. But any mother with children of her own would understandperfectly and be moved to genuine and heart-felt sympathy. 

The condition of George's mother would naturally evoke the same sort ofcompassion as the spectacle of Harry on the tree stump, sobbing for hisapple. 

But what of the Jake, in this case--the prime factor of the problem? TheJake in this case, of course, is no other than our only son, George. Notrouble of any sort was experienced by him in the various stages of hisjourney. Upon his arrival, there were a number of new people to meet andvarious elements of interest in the new surroundings to occupy hisattention. For the time being, he forgot to think of the mother he hadleft behind. 

Hours later, as they are starting a game of tennis, it suddenly occursto him that he has not yet sent his telegram home, but as it would be abother to go back to the house now and he feels like going ahead withthe tennis game, he makes a mental note and puts it off. It is not untildinner time that he thinks of it again and when he finds that thetelephone is out of order and he would have to motor in to the telegraphoffice, its doesn't seem worth the trouble. He has allowed so much timeto go by already that he decides the most satisfactory way out of it isto wait until he finds time to write a letter and explain, as an excusefor not keeping his promise, that the telephone wasn't working. 

Before he has an opportunity to write his letter, the telegram arrivesfrom home disclosing his mother's anxiety--whereupon he feels ashamedand sorry, and hurries to the telegraph office to send a reply. 

This is a more or less typical example of a great many cases where lackof consideration for others is not necessarily due to a lack ofaffection or sympathy, but comes from a lack of thoughtfulness andunderstanding. George may love his mother very much and he would notvoluntarily hurt her feelings, or be the cause of her suffering. Thesight of his mother in tears would cause him unhappiness and he wouldgladly make a real sacrifice in order to comfort her. But the sight ofhis mother's suffering, or the thought of his mother's suffering, is notbefore him--it does not enter into his calculations or motives ofconduct. In order for this to take place, a certain amount of reflectionand imagination is required on his part. 

In the case of Harry and Jake and the apple, we assumed that some onecame along and called Jake's attention to the unhappiness of Harry. When Jake was made to see and realize, he responded with a feeling ofconsideration. 

But in the case of George and the vast majority of cases where thisquestion is involved, no one comes along to explain to you. If thepleasure or pain of others is involved in what you do, the thought ofthat must come from yourself. Very often those others are not present atthe time and the consequences may not be immediately and superficiallyapparent. Imagination, reflection, and a habit of mind, may be needed torealize the effect upon them. 

Suppose you have a friend named Brown whom you have known many years andhave a good deal of affection for. An unexpected opportunity offers foryou to get a week's hunting in the South and you think how fine it wouldbe, if you can get the right sort of companion to share it with you. Yousee Brown, tell him about it, invite him and he accepts. You immediatelystart in making plans and arrangements--dogs, guns, food, drinks--leaving nothing undone to make it a bang-up affair and giveBrown and yourself the time of your lives. Now suppose when you havefixed up everything and are waiting in joyful anticipation for the hourto arrive, you receive word from Brown, with apologies and a lameexcuse, that he must deprive himself of the pleasure of going with you?And suppose you discover later, in an accidental way, that the realreason Brown left you flat was because something else turned up thatappealed to him more and he was thinking only of himself?

Suppose, now, you are a society lady, or a society man, and you haveaccepted an invitation from a woman friend to motor out to her countryplace and dine and spend the night--and suppose when the day arrives, you are offered a box at the opera, that night, to hear Caruso? As thisappeals to you much more than the other, you send a wire to the countryat the last minute, pretending an indisposition, and go to the opera. What of the woman friend--who had made special efforts and invitedcertain people on your account, and had counted on you as a mainconsideration in her whole affair? Your absence upsets her completely, spoils her party, and robs her of something on which she had spent agood deal of time and effort and on which her heart was set. 

If she ever discovers or suspects the true reason for your desertion, you will have inflicted a wound in her feelings that few friendships cansurvive and the loss of a friend in this world is hardly to be regardedas a trifling matter. 

These few examples which we have cited and a countless multitude ofothers, of a more or less similar nature, which might be drawn from theeveryday experiences of any human being, tend to make plain the palpabletruth--that very often other people besides ourselves are concerned inour actions and we do violence to our better feelings and theirs, if weleave them out of consideration. Even up-to-date young people of themost selfish order can hardly fail to recognize that and admit it, incertain instances--when the others are before their eyes, or the effectupon them is so direct and immediate that it cannot escape theirattention. In such instances they respond instinctively to the finerside of their natures, where sympathy and affection are found. But justas soon as an effort of reflection and imagination is required torealize this same effect on others, there is no longer the sameresponse. The will and the faculty to do this appear, somehow, to belacking; so that they lose sight of this consideration very easily, andleave it out of account as a controlling influence. Some one else has todirect their attention, do the thinking for them and appeal to theirfeelings, in order to restore the equilibrium. 

This difficulty of voluntary reflection and understanding on their partis still greater when it comes to another phase of the question, whichis one degree more complicated, but no less vital in its bearing on theaffections. You cannot do evil things, or act in such a way as willbring harmful consequences upon yourself, without causing suffering tothose who love you. If your mother is very sweet and gentle and lovesyou devotedly and you have a good deal of tender affection for her, youwould not think of striking her a blow on the face with your clenchedfist. No impulse within you, however selfish, could make you do that. Yet the pain from such a blow would be as nothing compared to thesuffering you might cause her by smoking opium or sniffing cocaine ordoing something dishonorable, like forging your father's signature. 

None of these things affect her directly or personally, butsympathetically, through her love for you. 

So it is in the case of the boy who, after promising not to drive overthirty miles an hour, goes speeding on the highway and gets arrested. The fine which has to be paid by father is an infinitesimal part of theharm and hurt which is caused the parents. 

You cannot sit in a draft and catch a heavy cold, without causing acertain amount of anxiety and distress to your sister, or your wife, whoare devoted to you--if it runs into pneumonia, the hurt to them isgreater; and if you happen to die of it, that may release you fromfurther suffering, only to make theirs heaviest of all. 

I went to a dance, last summer, at the home of a young married couple ina fashionable community. The hostess was rather an extreme example ofthe up-to-date school, with the well formed habit of looking at thingsfrom the point-of-view of her own inclinations. 

After the dancing had been going on a short while, she found she was notin the humor for it; the men who asked her to dance didn't interest her, and she felt like going to bed. Being a firm believer in individualismand thinking only of herself, she quietly withdrew and went to bed. 

A number of her guests had not yet arrived. When they did and sought togreet their hostess, inquiries were made and in the end everybody wasapprised of her behavior. She imagined that it concerned only herself, whereas the sympathy, affection, the kindly attitude which all thosepeople were disposed to have for her suffered a shock. A touch ofresentment and antipathy was left behind which would make itself felt infuture relations. The sympathy and affection of those about us is a partof life too precious and necessary to our well-being to be lightly castaside. The loss to us and to them, however trifling in any oneinstance, may in the course of time involve lasting consequences. 

In the various examples we have cited so far, it has been a question ofhurting or depriving others, through lack of consideration. A similarmotive comes into play in prompting us to bestow pleasure upon others. Human sympathy causes us to delight in the joy of those we love, just astheir sorrow saddens us. We like to give them presents, preparesurprises for them, devise ways and means of adding to their happiness. Such acts on our part are usually accompanied by a very sweet and lovelyfeeling of sentiment. Our hearts are warmed by the thought and sight ofthis good that is coming to those we love. Some cynical and shallowreasoners like to argue that such acts are only a disguised form ofselfishness because, as we have a sympathetic share in the pleasure, webenefit by it, ourselves. Any such argument is usually found to be nomore than a quibble on words and a pretense of cleverness. Nevertheless, as this sort of talk is liable to crop up at any time, in connectionwith human motives, and cause a confusion of idea, it may be just aswell to pause for a moment and dispose of it. 

If you find our little friend Harry sobbing on a tree stump because hehas lost his apple, you feel sorry for him--because you understand andsympathize. If you had an apple in your pocket, you would give it tohim. You are not thinking of yourself--you are thinking of him. If Jakecomes along and restores the apple and Harry stops crying and offersJake half, the feeling of gladness that comes to you has nothing selfishin it at all. There is no motive or calculation of self-gratification inthe sentiments you have experienced. They are inspired, not by thethought of your own welfare, but the welfare of another. The essence ofthem is sympathy and affection. 

So it is with countless acts of kindness which frequently involve theneed of denying our selfish inclinations--depriving ourselves ofpersonal gratifications--for the sake of helping others who are introuble, or bringing pleasure to those we love. The firstconsideration--the true determining motive--is not any thought of thebenefit to ourselves, but the benefit to them. In every-day language theword used to characterize such acts and feelings is generosity--and thisis properly and popularly considered the exact opposite of selfishness. 

Now because it has been observed by thoughtful people that acts ofgenerosity are frequently accompanied by a feeling of satisfaction andgladness, this fact has been seized upon by a certain order ofcold-blooded individuals as a pretext for distorting the truth. Theyargue that this feeling of satisfaction with yourself which comes fromgenerosity is such a desirable thing in your eyes that you want it foryourself--consequently when you show kindness and sympathy for othersyou are obeying the same motive as the cynic, himself, who having smallsympathy for others, prefers the frank gratification of his own ego. This, of course, is pure sophistry. But if any mind is so kinked that itmust reason that way, there is a simple answer which will suffice tobring it through the question to the main point. Whenever the pleasureto be derived by an individual comes to him through sympathy andaffection and consideration for the feelings of another--that sort ofpleasure is so different in its origin and its essence from the pleasurewhich comes from the gratification of personal appetites and desiresthat the mass of mankind has recognized the difference since thebeginning of civilization. 

One kind of pleasure flows from acts of sentiment for others' sake; theother kind is rooted in the indulgence of personal desires. The essenceof one is usually characterized as generosity; the other, selfishness. If the cynic will promise to keep the distinction clear in his head andstop confusing himself with quibbles or words, he may call the motivesany names he likes. 

This question of consideration for others is so important andfar-reaching in its effect on human lives that no pains should be sparedto keep it from being lost sight of or misunderstood. And yet, as wehave observed, at the present time, among up-to-date individuals, it isapparently being lost sight of, more and more. In a general way, it isbeing bunched with those other old-fashioned notions and conventionsthat were wont to interfere with the freedom of the individual. Whyshould an emancipated ego, brought up in the modern way, be constantlybothered by the thought of others?

If we pause and examine this attitude of mind, dispassionately, fromanother angle, a possible explanation suggests itself. There may be tworeasons, of a distinct and different sort why any given person mightfail to feel the significance of so vital a part of life. 

In the first place, some natures may be rather lacking in the qualitiesof affection and sympathy. All people are not alike, in this respect, byany means. Some are instinctively warm-hearted and intense in theirfeelings--others are naturally inclined to coldness and indifference. Toa cold nature, the woes or pleasures of others are of comparativelyminor consequence. There is no rush of heart-felt sympathy, if thesupply is so thin and weak that it hardly suffices for the needs ofself. 

That is one explanation of how certain natures, if left to their ownresources, can be lacking in consideration. 

But if we are right in assuming that the general run of human nature ismuch the same to-day as it has always been, there ought to be the sameinstincts of sympathy and affection, the same kind of warm-hearts amongour new generation, as there were in the time of our grandmothers. Asconsideration for others is founded on these, there must be some otherexplanation for the lack of consideration which is a growing tendency, obvious to all. 

The truth of the matter seems to be that consideration for others is nota primitive instinct like hunger or thirst; nor is it a simple, inbornquality or impulse, like affection or sympathy. It requires a certainamount of thoughtfulness, reflection and control of self, in order totransfer one's attention from one's own inclination and interest to thewelfare of another, especially when that other is not at hand to offer areminder or make an appeal. 

But under proper guidance, through enlightenment and constant exercise, this faculty is susceptible of such development that it may in timepermeate the mind, become an essential part of the character, a sort ofsecond nature, just as real and solid, and infinitely more lovely thanthe instincts which it dominates. 

The capacity and capability necessary for this development are presentto a greater or less extent in all human natures. But through neglectand mismanagement and lack of enlightenment and exercise, they mayshrivel and fade and contribute very little to beauty of character, orthe joy of living. 

In the light of the foregoing observations, there is nothing in theattitude of the new generation toward this whole question which remainsincomprehensible, or even very puzzling. Their advanced ideas, whensifted down, would seem to signify no more than insufficient developmentof the finer and better side of their natures, and a lack ofunderstanding concerning the important rôle which affection and sympathyare capable of playing in the search for happiness. This part of theirtraining and education has been neglected, somehow, in the confusionarising from lost traditions and standards. An essential and beautifulpart of their humanity has been allowed to shrivel away until it hasbeen lost sight of in their calculations. 

In all the past periods of our civilization, when obedience anddiscipline held sway, no such over-sight was likely to occur. One of thefirst lessons repeatedly and forcibly impressed upon every growingindividual was the necessity of considering other people's wishes. Therewere three people at least, who had always to be considered--mother, father and God. Consideration of these would be rewarded and lack ofconsideration, sooner or later, was sure to bring punishment. 

In this old-fashioned way--crudely, if you will, but nevertheless withrelative effectiveness--a habit of mind, was established, involvingself-control, which readily became second nature. It became almostinstinctive to pause in the presence of temptation or selfishinclination, and consider the effect upon others. Once this habit wasformed, the teachings of mother and father, of Sunday school, church andBible all tended to develop it and extend its application--love yourfellows, let your sympathy and affection flow out to them, considertheir welfare, in all that you do, and you will be blessed and happy. 

How is that habit of mind--that second nature--being acquired to-day andhow will it be acquired in the future, among people who have ceased torespect the traditions of the past and are pleased to accept the idea ofthe freedom of the individual, the right to gratify yourself and everyinclination, without fear or favor?

Must there be a return to the old-fashioned methods and beliefs? Nothingis more unlikely. As a reaction against the present tendency, there maybe efforts on the part of some well-intentioned people to return to therégime of obedience, discipline and the fear of God. But such reactionsdo not usually last very long. The next step that will help toward thereal solution of the problem must be forward, not backward. Theunderlying reason why the old formulas have been losing their prestigeis probably because there were fallacies and crudities contained in themwhich humanity has outgrown. 

You might look back with longing to the happy state you were in when youbelieved in Santa Claus, but after you have reached a certain age, allthe king's horses and all the king's men cannot bring Santa Claus backto you again. 

V

FAITH

If the life of man were confined to the exercise of his senses andmaterial instincts, there would be no problems of conduct. There wouldbe perceptions and sensations, --some pleasant, others disagreeable. Appetites and desires would make themselves felt and he would seek tosatisfy them. 

The underlying motive of all his acts would be to prolong life, gotoward pleasure and away from pain. 

All about us are living things--plants, fish, animals--whose existence, as far as we know, seems limited to these simple considerations. Theyform part of man's life--one side of his nature--the animal side. 

If, in addition to this life of the senses, we concede to man a brain, athinking apparatus, which enables him to remember, compare, calculate, the question of his conduct at any given time is apt to become morecomplicated, through considerations of reason. As we have seen in ourprevious discussions, his brain may decide him to forego a presentpleasure, in order to escape a future pain; or to endure a present pain, for the sake of a future pleasure. 

Still, the mere addition of a reasoning mind, would in no way alter thenature of the underlying motive. The considerations would still remainpurely animal--prolonging life, getting the greatest sum of pleasure, avoiding the greatest sum of pain. 

It is not until we begin to take note of the sympathies, affections, generous emotions of which man is capable, that we recognize another andinner nature, which may be concerned and moved by considerations thatdon't depend upon sensations, or selfish instincts and are not, in theirvery essence, animal at all. In every day language, this is the heartand the heart-life of man. It is as far removed from the brain, as it isfrom the senses. The brainiest people may be the least affectionate andthe least generous--just as the most sensual people may so be. 

We have seen, in discussing this side of human nature, the bearing ithas on the conduct of the individual. More delicate and more complicatedmotives and considerations are introduced into the problem through itsinfluence. Its essence is sweeter, finer, less obvious and moreelevating than the instincts which the brute beasts share with us. 

But sensations, calculations and sympathetic emotions are still notenough to explain some of the most important questions and decisionsthat enter into the life of man. Above and beyond all these, deeper, vaguer, more complicated and more inspiring, is another function orquality--another side of his nature--which distinguishes him completelyfrom all the other earthly creatures. This is the spiritual side, thesoul, --the home of conscience, honor, responsibility, idealism. 

Let us begin with some simple examples:

If a big bully kicks a little boy; or a man deserts his friend in thehour of need; or an innocent person is sent to prison;--a feeling ofprotest arises within me. It tells me such things ought not to be. Theyare not right, they are wrong. 

My self-interest has nothing to do with it. As far as I am personallyconcerned, none of these things makes the slightest difference. 

If I turn to my intellect, that offers me no explanation. It tells methat the bully is only obeying his natural instincts, in the same way acat does when it springs on a mouse. It is logical and proper for eachand every living thing to act in accordance with its impulses. As forthe man who deserts his friend, he is merely looking out for himself--aperfectly reasonable thing for any one to do. When we come to the thirdcase, my intellect tells me that the person sent to prison was given afair trial in accordance with the laws--the evidence was againsthim--and he was adjudged guilty. Because I happen to know that he wasinnocent, does that make the occurrence any less reasonable? As I wasnot concerned in it, I cannot be held accountable, so what differencedoes it make to me?

My affections give me the same negative response as my self-interest andmy reason. The bully, the small boy; the man and his friend; theinnocent person--they are strangers to me; no personal attachmentapplies to any of them. 

And yet the feeling within me is unmistakable. Where does it come from?That other side of my nature, where dwells the sense of right and wrong. 

It is just as vague and mysterious, but just as real as another kind ofsense to which it may be compared. This other sense also baffles theintellect, but it is none the less generally recognized and accepted. 

Certain kinds of music, sunsets, moonlight nights, paintings, arouse inme a delicate feeling of pleasure, mixed with admiration. It is notonly my physical sensations which are involved--my eyes and my ears--butsomething deeper within me which seems to be quite apart from reason orintellect. 

Also my interest and attention are by no means confined to thesensations which I am experiencing; I consider the things themselves andcall them beautiful. Certain other sounds and sights strike me asdiscordant, or unpleasant, and I call them ugly. And the faculty withinme which determines this, I call a sense of Beauty. 

In the same way, this other sense within me is appealed to by certaindeeds and qualities of men. That which is fine, just, generous, noble, Icall right; another sort of thing, of a contrary tendency, I call wrong. And the faculty, itself, I call a sense of right and wrong. 

Suppose an individual walking along a road, wondering how he is going toraise fifty dollars which he needs very badly, comes upon an automobilestanding in a lonely spot; and then sees a lady who has been pickingwild-flowers, get into the automobile and after fussing with herflowers, her wrap, her hand-bag and handkerchief, let drop some smallobject to the ground, before driving away. He strolls up to the spot andpicks up the object, which proves to be a purse containing eightydollars in bank-notes. There is no one in sight, and after a moment'shesitation, obeying an impulse of self-interest, he pockets the money, throws the purse into the bushes and turns his steps another way. 

As far as his self-interest and his intellect are concerned, they agreein telling him he is very lucky. He has obtained the money which hewanted, he has broken no law, and there is not the slightest risk ordanger of any sort involved in his conduct. He can pay his debt and havemoney to spare, with every reason to feel happy over his good fortune. 

But if the spiritual side of his nature is at all developed, he is aptto be tormented by a vague, persistent feeling of another kind. It tellshim he has done something unworthy of his better self. In every daylanguage, we say he is troubled by his conscience. 

It not infrequently happens that individuals who have done wrong are soaffected by this feeling that they make restitution and confession whenthey are safely beyond the reach of detection. 

Neither the intellect nor self-interest plays any part in such conduct, which is contrary to the advice of both. It is inspired uniquely by thissoul-feeling, called conscience. 

Slightly different from this, but belonging to the same family, is thesentiment of honor. 

A number of years ago, a young man whom I knew, happened to go to anotorious gambling house in New York, with a couple of companions. Oneof these young men was a member of a wealthy family and had beenfrequently to this place, where he was always most welcome. My friendheld a clerical position in a financial institution, was making his ownliving, and at the time had about fifteen hundred dollars in the bank, which represented his entire worldly assets. It was late at night, theyoung men had been to a party and were in rather a hilarious andreckless mood when they started playing roulette. After they used up themoney they had with them, they were allowed to continue playing oncredit, chips being supplied to them as called for. My friend, afterlosing more than he could afford, was urged by desperation to keep ontrying to recoup, and when he finally left the house, in the early hoursof the morning, he had lost ten thousand dollars. That was the situationwhich faced him in his sober senses, the next day. 

A gambling debt has no standing in law. No legal claim of any kind couldbe made against him and he was perfectly aware of the fact. Theproprietor of the establishment was a thoroughly unscrupulousindividual with a shady record, and the games played there were open toa suspicion of crookedness. My friend had previously been told that. Hehad only to let the loss go unpaid and ignore the whole incident, without the slightest fear of consequences, so far as honest people wereconcerned. 

But this young man felt that such conduct would not be honorable. So hewent to the place again, explained to the proprietor his financialsituation and promised to pay off as much as he could, year by year, until the debt was cancelled. It took him five years to accomplish this, and during that time, he stuck faithfully to a resolve not to touch acard or gamble in any way. Later on the young man became vice-presidentof one of the largest financial institutions in America, a positionwhich he still holds. He had then, and still has a sense of honor. 

Many a gentleman of good breeding and fine feelings has told deliberatelies and perjured himself under oath, in order to shield the reputationof a lady. Even though he may be under no personal obligation to thelady in question, but merely an accidental witness of some occurrence, acertain kind of man feels compelled by his sense of honor to protecther. It is not honest to tell a lie, it is a legal offense to perjureone's self; there is no reason of the intellect to make you bear falsewitness and defeat the ends of justice for the sake of an individual, who may have done wrong and be deserving of punishment. 

Yet so it is and among those who share this sense there is a beauty andnobility about such conduct which is akin to that of a sunset or moonlitnight. 

Let us take an example of a more commonplace kind in the business world. Suppose a certain individual, Jones, living in a small community has acoal yard. When the autumn comes, Jones's bins are piled high and inaddition to this, Jones has several carloads of coal on a siding, andnumerous other carloads in transit. Jones's brother, who is interestedin a coal mine, has advised Jones that as there is prospect of a miner'sstrike, he had better get his full winter's supply in advance, with alittle extra and this has been so arranged. The strike takes place aspredicted and then owing to war conditions in Europe, there comes a coalshortage throughout the land. 

With the arrival of the first touch of winter various people in thecommunity begin sending orders to Jones. In the meantime, he has beendoing a little thinking. His customers have got to have coal and they'vegot to buy it from him. Under existing conditions, there is no otherway for them to procure it, at any price. So to speak, he holds them inthe hollow of his hand. 

His entire supply has cost him five dollars a ton and he had figured tosell it at six, which would allow him his usual satisfactory profit. Butnow it dawns upon him that if he refuses to sell a single ton of it forless than twenty dollars, his people will have to pay that, or freeze, and he will make more profit in this one winter than all the rest of theyears put together. 

So he makes up his mind to put up his price to twenty dollars and tomeet all complaints by replying with a shrug that he is not asking anyone to buy--they are free to get their coal elsewhere. 

Is not Jones perfectly honest? Would any business man of the present dayblame him? Is he not entitled to make all the money he can, inaccordance with the laws? Is there not every reason for his intellect toapprove of his shrewdness in taking advantage of his opportunity?

But suppose Jones's mother is a sweet, old-fashioned lady whom he hasalways loved and revered; and suppose upon learning of the situation, she calls her son to her side, takes his hand in hers and talks to himin this wise:

"My son, these people are all dependent upon you, to keep fromfreezing. They are entirely at your mercy. To take advantage of helplesspeople and fleece them of their savings, because unexpectedcircumstances have placed them in your power, is not the kind of thing Icould bear to see you do. It does not seem to me quite worthy orhonorable. "

I have imagined it to be Jones's mother speaking thus; but if Jones'sfather happened to be an old-fashioned gentleman of a certain type, oran artist, a poet, a musician, he might be moved by the same feeling--amatter, not of honesty, but of honor. 

Jones, however, being a typical business man of the present day, is notconscious of any such feeling. If by chance, an idea of this kind didcreep into his head, he would dismiss it as quixotic, not practical. Hebelieves that "business is business. " If you ask him whether Shylock wasright and justified in demanding his pound of flesh, he might hesitate amoment, but after thinking it over, he would probably reply:

"If Shylock had a proper contract calling for such a penalty and hadlent his money on those conditions, he was entirely within his rights. If the other parties weren't prepared to live up to the terms of theagreement, they had no business to sign their names to it. That wastheir lookout. Their only recourse is to show something irregular orillegal in the way it was drawn up and quash it on that count, or elsesettle up in accordance with its stipulations. Shylock had performed hispart of the agreement and he demanded that the other party should do thesame. "

If you questioned Jones further about himself, you might learn that hehad always believed and practiced the principle that "Honesty is thebest policy, " and nothing could swerve him from it. This has nothing todo with that inner feeling called a sentiment of honor. It is of adifferent essence entirely. When sifted down, it is found to consist ofreason, experience and a matter-of-fact calculation of self-interest. Ifyou don't cheat, or break the laws, and establish a reputation forhonest dealing, you will gain more by it in the long run than you lose. Nothing very inspired or inspiring about that, or very different in kindfrom the principle of the crook who says: "If I take care to avoiddetection, but pay no attention to right and wrong, I will gain more inthe long run than I lose. "

The detail of the calculation is different, but the motive and objectare the same--self-interest and self-advantage. The soul, theconscience, the sentiment of honor are not involved in either. 

During the late war, tens of thousands of individuals and corporationsfollowed Jones's example and chuckled with glee as the undreamed-ofprofits rolled in. They took advantage of the situation and became whatis known as profiteers. The brain and self-interest were acting overtime, but the spiritual nature was slumbering. 

Suppose you are making a visit to a business friend and he leaves youalone in his office for a few minutes, while he is called out by someemergency--and suppose he has left on his desk an envelope containingbusiness secrets which you could profit by--and suppose you takeadvantage of your opportunity, open the envelope, glance at the papers, get the information and later on make good use of it?

An individual who is capable of doing that must be rather lacking in thesense of honor. 

If a business man happened to tell his wife something of a confidentialnature, as some husbands do, and the wife were indiscreet enough tomention it to your wife, without realizing its full import, and yourwife repeated it to you, and you thereupon proceeded to communicate itto the business man's competitor--you might not break any law, or doanything dishonest, and your intellect might tell you there was profitfor yourself to be gained by it--and many another person in your placemight jump at the chance--but for all that, there ought to be a feelingwithin you to prevent you doing it, because it would not be honorable. 

In the world of politics, some people might feel that it is nothonorable to use a position of public trust for private ends. 

Suppose you have it in your power to make an appointment which mightprove very lucrative to a certain type of individual who has no scruplesabout graft. Among your political henchmen there is just such anindividual and he wants the appointment. There is another man whom youmight appoint, if you chose to, a high-minded, public-spirited man, fitter and better for it in every way; but the political henchman was animportant factor in obtaining for you the office which you now occupy;his good will and influence may be very helpful in your futurecampaigns, whereas the other man has done nothing for you and is withoutpolitical influence. If you gave him the appointment, you would make anenemy of your henchman and his followers. Your self-interest and yourintellect combine in showing you what a mistake that would be. 

Usually a politician, by the time he has been selected by otherpoliticians as a candidate for office, has become amenable to reason andmay be counted on to avoid such a mistake. But occasionally a gentlemanof another sort finds himself in this position and he refuses to do theusual thing, because it goes counter to an inner feeling--his sense ofhonor. 

So it is with countless other questions of conduct, which at varioustimes, in various communities, with various individuals, involve thisfeeling. In some people it is highly developed and frequently determinesthe motive of conduct, in a fine, noble, compelling way which isdirectly opposed to material considerations of self-interest. In otherpeople, it is so feeble, and crude that its wee small voice is seldomheeded or heard in the calculations and decisions of their practicallives. 

In addition to the sentiments of honor and conscience and right andwrong, there are various other fine and noble feelings to which the soulof man is susceptible, to a greater or less extent, according to theindividual nature. Self-respect, loyalty, gratitude, responsibility, self-sacrifice may be cited, by way of suggestion. 

Now, while there can be no doubt that human nature is capable of allthese feelings and that individuals have been found to possess them, indifferent communities, at different times, it is equally obvious thatamong vast numbers of other individuals they find little or noexpression. 

There have been periods in the history of certain peoples when nearlyall the nobler sentiments seem to have shrivelled up. The Roman Empire, when it was in its decay; the upper classes of England, after theRestoration; France, during the period which preceded theRevolution--are examples of such a condition. The leading citizensappear to have thrown conscience to the winds and let themselves go, without restraint, to a life of dissipation, corruption, and theindulgence of the senses. 

Also in our country, among certain classes, in certain communities, itis quite apparent that the finer feelings, the moral standards, of theaverage individual are at a lower ebb, than they seem to be in certainother sections. 

In view of these observations, it is fairly safe to conclude that thespiritual feelings of man are subject to alteration, through aninfluence or influences of some sort. The same sort of influence thatshows its general effect in a given class or community may be presumedto be at work on the nature or character of the individuals who composethat community. 

If the sentiment of honor, for instance, is a vital compelling force inone individual, and is so weak or deficient in another as to be anegligible quantity, what is the explanation of this difference? Whatinfluence has developed the sentiment in one, and retarded oreliminated it in the other? On what does it depend? What causes it tocome to life in the human soul? What good is it, when it does come?

The same questions apply to conscience, loyalty, responsibility, rightand wrong. Whence do they come--and what are they good for?

These questions are simple to ask--but when one attempts to answer themin a simple, convincing way, they are found to be full of hidden depthsand complexities. 

Down below them, is another question which is included in them all andwhich sooner or later must be faced by each and every one of us: "Why amI here on earth? Has my life any purpose in the great, everlastingscheme of things? What is that purpose?"

Until we have arrived at some sort of an answer to that question, wecannot make much headway in answering the others. 

If there were no purpose at all to an individual life, what differencewould it make whether he had a conscience or not?

If his purpose is to get as much satisfaction out of life as he can, between his birth and his death, why shouldn't he go about it in any oldway that suits himself? What real difference does it make whether hechooses to indulge in alcohol, opium, and other dissipations for ashort while, or prefers to prolong his span by sticking to wheat, potatoes and sobriety? Purely a matter of personal taste, to be decidedby each individual for himself. 

Suppose on account of his affections and sympathies for otherindividuals, the idea occurs to him that he was meant to serve them, also? What real difference would that make if their lives had no otherpurpose, either? They will all be dead very soon, anyhow, whether youjoin with them in a mutual serving society, or not. If there is no otherend in view for each and every one, but to live and die, what boots it?

But suppose it might be that after death their spirits could live on, inan unknown world? Even so, any service you happened to do for them, here, would hardly be counted in their favor, over there. 

But mightn't it be counted in your favor--over there? Isn't it possiblethat every kind and helpful thing you do for your fellow men in yourlife on earth might be to the advantage of your spirit in the otherworld?

Suppose it could be proved that this were the true purpose of life--towin benefit and glory for your spirit in the world beyond?

"Well, " you might reply, "--if that is the way things stand, it would beputting a big premium on canny foresight. A cold-blooded, utterlyselfish individual could make his calculations accordingly and featherhis future nest at every opportunity, while the rest of us poor devilswho couldn't calculate so well would be piling up future trouble. 

"Is that what is meant by soul and conscience and honor? Does the'spiritual side of man's nature, ' when stripped of its camouflage, meana shrewd calculation which seeks to gain a lasting reward for thespirit, after the body is used up?"

In the face of such a question, of such a line of thought, there issomething within us which revolts. If we can find words to express thecause and nature of this revolt, so much the better; but even if wecannot, a vague but unshakable feeling persists within us that any viewsof this sort are superficial, inadequate and uncomprehending. 

Just as we found, in connection with human sympathy and affection, thatcold reason might make the mistake of trying to explain them in terms ofselfishness, so we find that when reason undertakes to penetrate intothe human soul, it is apt to emerge with a distortion which lacks theessence of the whole thing. 

In the first place, so far as reason goes, after countless generationsof man on earth, what evidence has yet been discovered to proveconclusively that when a man dies, the spirit of him disengages itselffrom the dead body and goes on to an unknown world to continue lifethere?

When a dog dies, does the spirit of him do the same thing? A bird? Aspider? A germ? A flower? They all have the spirit of life withinthem--a wonderful complex life--and a struggle for existence onearth--of much the same sort as man's. 

I was talking to a charming lady, the other day, who said she firmlybelieves that the spirits of them all go on to a better world, alongwith man's. 

But whether they do, or whether they don't, what means has any intellectbeen able to find in all these centuries to settle the question andprove it scientifically, without fear of contradiction?

Even if the intellect were satisfied to take so much for granted, at aguess, for the sake of having something to go by, there still remainsthe same element of uncertainty surrounding the question: "Why am Ihere? If my spirit is the only part of me that is destined to live on, what was the need of chaining it for this short space of time to animalinstincts and a perishable body?"

All sorts of theories have been advanced, in the search for a plausibleexplanation, but again, in all the ages of civilization, no conclusiveproof has been found that any one of them is the right one. 

In ancient times the theory seemed to be that the purpose of life was todevelop the body to its highest state of prowess and beauty and to makeliberal sacrifices to the gods, in order to gain and retain their favor. The idea seems to have been current for many centuries that when thespirit mounted to another world, it somehow carried the shape andcharacteristics of the earthly body along with it. Reason enough to makethe body strong and beautiful, if the spirit were to continue tied up toit eternally. 

Even in Shakespeare's time and all through the Middle Ages, wheneverdeparted spirits were supposed to come back to earth to communicate withmortals, they always appeared in the same bodily form they had had onearth. 

On this assumption, if one individual happened to die when his body wasyoung and strong and handsome, his spirit would have an advantage overanother individual, who lasted on earth until his body was old, decrepitand ugly. 

It may be that the unfairness of this thought had something to do withthe eventual discarding of the belief. It may also be that in the courseof time and accumulated experience, the more advanced intellects arrivedat the conclusion that sacrifices made to the gods had littleperceptible effect on the course of events. In any case Europeancivilization appears to have arrived at a stage where it was ripe andready for another sort of conception. 

This other conception was the unimportance and unworthiness of the bodyand all material things. The spirit was the only thing that signifiedand that was to be dedicated to the service of the Lord, as announced indivine commandments. Sacrifices on the altar or gifts to the priestswould avail nothing, if the spirit were undutiful. The Lord was to beworshipped and addressed in prayer--and He was at all times prepared tomete out rewards and punishments in strict accordance to the deserts ofthe spirit. Good and worshipful spirits would be blessed witheverlasting life in paradise, while those who disobeyed thecommandments, or neglected to be baptized and worship in the ordainedway would be consigned to eternal torture and damnation. 

This theory was accepted by many millions of people and for a long timeheld an awe-inspiring sway over their imaginations. 

At the same time, in different parts of the world, India, China, Mexico, Egypt and various countries, a number of other theories concerning thespirit and the body were advanced as the basis of religious beliefs;and these were accepted by countless other millions of people with thesame awe-inspiring credulity. 

One feature of these various religions which appears to apply to themall, is worth noting. Each professed the belief that their God or godsruled in supreme control of the entire universe, eternally, and that allother so-called gods and so-called religions of other peoples whichinterfered with this idea must necessarily be false and spurious. 

In this respect, our own Christian view is like the others. In pursuanceof it, immense sums of money, untiring effort and many lives have beenspent by devout believers to convince remote peoples of the error oftheir doctrines and the truth of ours. 

But if an unbiased and impartial intellect were permitted to go aboutamong all the different religious sects on earth, and found each andevery one proclaiming with the same fervid conviction the unique andeverlasting truth of their doctrine and the error of all others, how farcould it get in the way of a reasonable conclusion?

There is a sort of conclusion, which appears fairly obvious. 

If any one of the doctrines should in truth be all that is claimed forit--the divine revelation, or the divine inspiration, of an AlmightyProvidence--then all the other doctrines can be no more than theories, more or less ingenious, more or less erroneous, mere products of man'simagination. Then countless millions of people for countless generationshave been left to lead their lives without a right understanding of lifeor death, the body or the soul, or the real purpose or design for whichthey were created and by which they will be judged? Only the few luckyones who happened to be born and brought up in the one true belief canhave the advantage of grasping the situation. To an impartial intellect, there would seem to be something about such an arrangement hardly fairor just to all the other countless millions. 

But even so, and admitting what is apparently obvious, how could anyamount of reasoning arrive at a decision in the matter?

There is nothing to prove that _all_ the theories and doctrines may beany more than guesses, bolstered up with impressive formalities andimagery, according to the needs and temperament, of the races for whomthey were made. Taken as a whole, they suggest a great confusion ofideas and many curious contradictions concerning the purpose of man'searthly life and the destiny of his soul. 

Has man really a soul, at all? In what part of his body is it located?What ground is there for imagining that it is any more immortal than hisheart or his eye? We can study the eye and dissect it and arrive at afairly accurate idea of how it works. We know that it can beblinded--put out; also we know that if anything stops the heart frombeating, the eye, the brain and our other functions cease to operate andbecome transfixed in death. Why should this not apply as well to thesoul, if there is a function in man which goes by that name?

Enough has been said to indicate a few of the difficulties which standin the way, when we approach the consideration of man's spiritualnature. A study of the various religions and spiritualistic beliefswhich are current in the world to-day would be a tedious task for theaverage mind and would probably be of little practical use or help toany one. 

The same may be said about the scientific theory of evolution. That isessentially an effort of the intellect, focusing the attention ondetails, processes and stages of development in living things andarriving no nearer to a solution of the unexplainable than we were inthe beginning. 

Suppose I happen to be impressed by the beauty and wonder of an orangetree, with its golden, luscious fruit, its delicately tinted anddeliciously scented blossoms, its graceful leaves and branches, itssymmetrical trunk so firmly rooted in the ground? Merely as a piece ofmachinery, as a little factory, designed to manufacture a certain kindof edible product, it is far more ingenious, economical and generallymarvellous than anything the combined brains of mankind have been ableto design throughout the centuries. It is automatic, self-lubricating, self-repairing and goes on, year after year, in fair weather or foul, turning out its brand of juicy pulp, done up charmingly in little yellowpackages. How does it operate? How does it always manage to get thenecessary raw materials from the earth and the air? How do the roots andthe leaves and the sap ever contrive to convert these into perfume andblossoms and pulp and pigment?

Now suppose a scientific intellect comes along and, after investigating, dissecting, analyzing, eventually holds out before my eyes a tiny whiteseed which it has located in the centre of the yellow package--and says:

"This is the explanation of the whole thing. That orange tree is merelythe result, by a process of natural development and evolution, of thisseed. We have studied it all out, step by step. If you will give us oneof these seeds to start with and some ground to put it in, there is nomystery about it at all. We can show you how the whole thing happens. Ofcourse, it takes considerable time--but time is nothing to Nature. Inthis case, only four or five years are required for the seed to becometransformed into a fruit-bearing orange tree. "

"But, " say I, "your investigations and explanations only add to myamazement. The design and formation of that little seed is even morewonderful and incomprehensible than the full-grown orange tree. Withinits tiny compass, it not only contains all the complicated miraculousprocesses which convert earth and air and water into fragrant blossoms, juicy pulp and golden oranges, but it contains in addition to that, other miraculous powers which enable it to develop and transform itselfinto a special kind of beautiful tree, with roots and branches andleaves. As compared to this one little seed, all the greatest inventionsand achievements of man seem like the crudest bungling. "

"Tut, tut, " replies the scientific intellect, "this is only one sort ofseed. There are hundreds, thousands of others, some so small that theylook like grains of dust. Each one of these is a complete manufacturingplant, perfect in every detail, each designed to turn out a specialkind of product, different from all the others. One of the mostremarkable points about them is that they require no specialmaterials--each and every one of them makes use of the same commoningredients, earth, air, light, water. From those ingredients, thislittle machine, for instance, working automatically, can turn out agiant red-wood tree, which will last for centuries. This other littleone, next to it, working in the same way, will produce thousands uponthousands of roses, of a certain beautiful shade of color and a certaindelicate fragrance. And so it is with all these other little machines, which we call seeds, --however amazing the difference in the kind ofproduct, it is due entirely to certain subtle differences in theirdesign. "

"But, " say I, "what sublime intelligence conceived the plan of thosemachines, and what kind of sublimely skilful craftsman was able tofashion them?"

"They were made automatically by the various trees and plants. "

"But who conceived the plan of the trees and plants?"

"The trees and plants were produced automatically by other little seeds, like these. "

"But the first one of these seeds, or the first one of these trees--whoconceived and executed that?"

"Oh, that, " says the scientific intellect, "came about through a processof evolution, which extends way back thousands of centuries. We havestudied it carefully and reasoned it all out to our entire satisfaction. 

"These plant seeds are only one part of it. There are also all theanimals and animalculae, including man. There are thousands of differentkinds of living creatures and each kind has a distinct design from allthe rest, which appears to have been determined by the special purposefor which it was intended. 

"As a matter of fact, they are nothing more or less than the results ofevolution, natural selection and the survival of the fittest. All werequire for the demonstration of our theory, is a little bit ofprotoplasm at the beginning of things and a mass of elemental matter inan unformed state. "

"But, " say I, "are you sure you are not trying to befuddle me andbefuddle yourself by the use of obscure words? You use the word"protoplasm"--but if you mean by that a kind of machine, like the orangepit or the red-wood seed, your evolution theory and your scientificchain of reasoning and all your big words merely bring us back to thepoint where we started and really explain nothing at all. The orangeseed, if left to itself in the midst of elemental matter will produce acertain kind of tree and countless oranges. A bit of protoplasm, if leftto itself in the midst of elemental matter, will not only produce anorange tree and a red-wood tree, but an elephant, a spider, a humanbeing--all the countless species of living things to be found in theuniverse. It may take the protoplasm a longer time to turn all this out, but it is a bigger job and time is of small account in such aconsideration. 

"All I can say is that I prostrate myself in abject and bewilderedadmiration before that bit of protoplasm. If anything could be morewonderful than the orange seed with which we started, your protoplasm iscertainly it. It is a miracle of a million miracles. 

"But there is one thing you forgot to tell me--the only thing of anyreal interest or importance to the average mind in such a theory. Whatsublime intelligence conceived the plan of that bit of protoplasm--andwhat kind of sublimely skilful craftsman was able to fashion it?"

"Oh that, " says the scientific intellect--"that just happens to be onepoint which our chain of reasoning has not yet been able to demonstratein a logical and satisfactory way. We have left that out of our theory. "

"Well then, " say I, "here are trees and flowers and animals and mankind, each perfectly adapted for the special function on earth for which theywere apparently designed. The plan of them appears to have beendetermined, somewhere, somehow, by a sublime intelligence whichsurpasses understanding, for some sublime purpose, apparently, which Iam yearning to know. All the details, complications and assumptions ofyour theory when boiled down to simple terms seem more or less of aquibble on words and meanings. 

"Your conclusions are of much the same sort as those of the intellectualcynic whom we quoted in connection with sympathy and affection. Heundertook to prove with a chain of reasoning that I obey only motives ofselfishness when I shed tears of grief because my friend has lost hisonly son. "

Here we are living together on earth to-day, and here were our fathersand forefathers living, in the same general way with the same generalinstincts and feelings, as far back as we have any record of; and herepresumably will our children and their descendants continue to beliving, as far as our imagination can carry us. Whether the process ofour creation involved a bit of protoplasm in the midst of chaos, orwhether we were evolved from a thought and a breath of an Almighty God, is of very slight consequence as a human consideration. 

In view of the wonderful harmony and fitness of the countless processesand things which we see everywhere about us in nature, it is not strangethat mankind seems always to have taken it for granted that a supremelywise and a supremely resourceful intelligence of some sort isresponsible for it all. The beginning, the end, the scheme and purposeof so many miracles, extend into the beyond, the unknown, theincomprehensible. What the Supreme Being is like--how or why He cameinto existence--where matter or life first came from--or even what theconnection is between the creatures of this world and the countlessstars and planets which may be other worlds--all this is shrouded in themystery of mysteries. 

If we get to thinking very much about it, one of the effects is to makethe affairs of man and the like of man seem tiny and unimportant incomparison to the whole--one kind of little creatures on one littleglobe, when we know there are thousands upon thousands of bigger globesin the firmament and possibly millions and billions of larger and moreexalted creatures on many of them. 

But it is only man's intellect that gets tangled up and discouraged bythat kind of reasoning. Another side of man's nature comes to the foreand disposes of this tangle with more inspiring sentiments. Thesesentiments tell us that a marvellous scheme of life is at work in ourworld, every detail of which from the lowest to the highest appears tohave received exactly the same sort of sublime consideration--and thatof this entire scheme, the spirit of man has been constituted the leaderand master. On this earth at least man is a kind of divine lieutenant, the captain, the commander, the generalissimo of all living things. Somehow, somewhere, there must be a sublime purpose to it all, becauseit is dominated throughout by a sublime intelligence, an apparentlyall-wise Providence. Somehow, somewhere, the spirit of man has a neverending responsibility and an awe-inspiring, exalted destiny. 

Whether this be true or not, and however, the scientific intellect maybe inclined to quibble with arguments and conclusions, there issomething inside of each and every one of us to a greater or lessextent, which makes us feel that this is so. This something within us, which responds to such a feeling, is a function quite apart from theintellect--the most highly developed intellects often have the least ofit; it is equally removed from the loves and hates, sympathies andantipathies of our heart life; and equally far away from the perceptionsand appetites of our senses. It is the side of man's nature which forthe want of a better name, we call the soul. And the feeling of the soulthat there is somewhere an all-wise Providence, sublime purpose ineverything, an exalted destiny for man--irrespective of proof, orscience, or calculation or demonstrations of any sort--that feeling inits simplest essence is what we call faith. 

"In God We Trust"--that is the motto which appears on American coins. Without great exaggeration, it might be called the motto of humanity, everywhere, at all times. It is a soul feeling; an expression offundamental faith. 

Now as this feeling is not dependent on the reasoning faculty, thereshould be nothing amazing in the fact that it has been found susceptibleof being developed and led far afield in the direction of credulity. Allsorts of fairy-tales have been invented by man's imagination, indifferent countries, at different periods, and imposed upon the simplefaith of the masses in order that they might be guided and controlled ina manner that the leading spirits considered best for them. Idols, divine revelations, oracles, prayers, sacrifices, confessionals, priests, prophets, medicine men, sacred dances and prostrations, awe-inspiring rites and ceremonies of almost every conceivable kind havebeen resorted to, in order to attain results which were consideredbeneficial. 

In nearly every case, it is safe to say the effort was inspired by anintense soul feeling on the part of an individual, however much it mayhave been seasoned with shrewdness and calculation and understanding ofthe people for whose good it was intended. 

It is generally admitted that the age in which we live is a scientificage. Scientific investigations, scientific explanations, scientificinventions, scientific methods and theories, are dominant factors in theprogress to which modern civilization has been devoting so much of itsenergy. In our schools, and colleges and text-books, the growing mind isbeing taught to approach all subjects and questions from a reasonable, practical and scientific point-of-view. 

One of the first principles of all science is to take as little aspossible for granted, but to investigate and prove everything, withoutprejudice, in strict accordance with the facts. This is the typicalattitude of to-day, encouraged and absorbed on every side and becomingmore wide-spread with each passing year. 

Suppose a young man or woman, trained in this way, in school andcollege, by books of science, magazine articles, newspapers anddiscussions of one sort or another connected with modern progress, isprompted one fine day to turn his attention to this question of religionand undertake an enquiry into that? Sooner or later, this is very apt tohappen to any one, because the churches and ceremonies are all about;and when an individual mind reaches a stage where it wants to think foritself, it can hardly escape from arriving at some conclusion concerningthem. 

A modern person so trained, is apt to perceive very quickly that many ofthe statements and assumptions made in the name of any particularreligion are unscientific and inaccurate and not much more reasonablethan Aladdin and his wonderful lamp, or Jack and the Beanstalk. Theypre-suppose an amount of childlike credulity and ignorance on the partof the worshipper, which can only be explained to his mind by theprimitive state of the people for whom they were originally intended. 

In view of this, the natural tendency for a practical scientific mind ofthe present generation is to regard the church question as a rathercurious and perplexing survival which, for family and personal reasons, it might be just as well to leave alone. 

As science cannot discover how the first protoplasm was created, and asthe preaching of the various religions is interwoven with fanciful andunsound assumptions, the most logical solution is to cease botheringone's head about it. 

One trouble with this is, that the soul is an important part of man'slife and it has need of faith of some sort. To a great extent, civilization depends upon it. If all the people about us had no soul andno faith, it is hard to imagine what the world would be like. 

We can imagine, in a way, by turning our attention to the criminalclasses. Consider for a moment the make-up of a typical crook--a thief, a burglar, a kidnapper, a hold-up man--a so-called "enemy of the law. "What is the underlying difference between him and a worthy citizen? Isit simply that one breaks the law, while the other does not? That isonly an apparent, superficial difference, based on results. A worthy manmight break the law repeatedly, without becoming in the least a crook; acrook might stay within the law, most carefully and cautiously, withoutaltering in the slightest degree, the essence of his crookedness. 

The real significant difference lies deeper down, in his nature andattitude--attitude toward his fellow men, toward himself, toward themystery of life. A crook usually has the same sort of appetites anddesires as anybody else. He may have the keenest perceptions andexcellent taste in matters of beauty and other pleasure-givingrefinements. As far as the sensations of life go, and the development ofthe senses, he may be far above the average, and many of themundoubtedly are. 

As for brains, many crooks of the higher order are remarkably quick andresourceful, while not a few have had superior education and booklearning. 

It is also undoubtedly true that they may have warm hearts and lovingnatures, and be capable of an unusual amount of loyalty and devotion totheir pals. 

In addition to that, they are frequently very patient, self-controlledand fearless. 

But there is just one quality, one side of their natures, that isdeficient--the soul, with its faith. They have no feeling ofresponsibility within them toward an unknown but holy purpose, toward anall-wise Being, who created the world and entrusted to man a spiritcapable of leading it. 

Without this feeling, there is no real meaning to the words right andwrong; and that is the essential mark of a crook. Outside of a fewintimates whom he is attached to, the rest of mankind with its laws andaspirations, represents nothing more than a hostile force to be preyedupon and gotten the best of. Provided he can avoid punishment, a crookfeels no objection to cheating, stealing, or cutting a throat. 

This appears to be the natural principle of life among wild animals, thefish in the sea, the spider and the fly; and it would presumably be thesame among men, if man were without a soul and devoid of faith. 

There is no feeling of right and wrong among animals, when left tothemselves. They merely try to get what they want, by any means at theirdisposal. In doing this, their only concern is to save their own skinsand to avoid a mix-up with another animal or animals stronger thanthemselves. 

In the case of crooks and criminals, these other animals which concernthem are usually the representatives of the law. 

Certain kinds of animals--dogs, horses, pets--may be tamed and trainedby man into an imitation notion of right and wrong. But it is only asuperficial imitation, essentially different in composition from thegenuine article. 

A dog may learn in time that if he chases the pet cat, his master willgive him a beating. After learning this lesson, he may stilloccasionally give himself the satisfaction of chasing the cat up a tree, but after he has done so, he will show his training by looking guilty, hanging his tail and sneaking off into the bushes. He knows he has donewrong. In this case, however, it simply means that he is anticipatingand seeking to mitigate an expected beating. The pain of a beating isbad; a lump of sugar is good, any animal can grasp that, and someanimals may be trained to connect the cause and effect. 

But that is not at all the same kind of thing as the conception of rightand wrong that grows up in man and finds its true explanation in a soulfeeling. 

This vague, but fundamental, feeling of faith in a divine purpose ofsome sort for the life of each individual is not dependent upon anyparticular religion, or creed, or doctrine. It appears to have foundexpression at all stages of civilization in all countries of which wehave any record. 

It was found to exist among the savage American Indians and the AztecMexicans, as it existed in the earliest mummy age of ancient Egypt, andamong the earlier warriors of Europe, as depicted by Homer. Among theyellow races of China and Japan, the recognition of this same faithextends back to the farther-most records of time. 

Whether it evolved from a protoplasm, or was implanted in man by theCreator, it may be regarded as an essential part of the all-wisescheme--which is, which was, and which presumably always will be. 

By some such process of observation and reasoning as we have been goingthrough, it is possible to arrive at a relatively safe and satisfactoryconclusion to the first soul question: "Has my life any purpose in thegreat, everlasting scheme of things?"

The answer is: "Undoubtedly. A feeling to that effect is to be founduniversally among mankind. The intention of the Creator, which surpassesunderstanding, in this one respect, at least, appears to beunmistakable. "

Attached to this conclusion is the second part of the question, to whichan answer may be found by a similar process of observation andreasoning:

"Granted that I am assured by an inner feeling that my life has somepurpose--what is that purpose?"

It is not difficult to discern a general and practically uniform purposein normal human beings. First, of course, is the primal instinct ofself-preservation, a feeling that life itself is precious and must beheld on to as long as possible. Along with this, goes another primalinstinct--to create new life and protect that--and thus continue yourrace and kind on earth indefinitely. 

It is easy enough to see that if these two instincts were lacking, or ifany other considerations were allowed to impair their force, the schemeof the world would come to an end. Whatever the purpose of a human lifemight be, that purpose would be futile, if there were no human lives toaccomplish it. So that these two instincts are necessary conditions ofany other plan or design. They are the first and foremost considerationsin all life, in all civilizations. Not only are they instinctiveimpulses of man's animal nature, which he shares with brute beings, butthey also appeal to his innermost soul with the strongest feelings ofwhich he is capable. 

It is right for him to protect himself; it is right for him to protecthis wife and children; it is right for him to protect his relatives andfriends and fellows from any and all enemies. In order to do this hewill kill other human beings, if necessary, in case of war, or attack;and his conscience will not reproach him; it will tell him he has doneright. 

This feeling has been implanted in all normal human beings--it hasalways been and presumably always will be. It may be regarded as part ofthe divine intention. It is also an unmistakable purpose for eachindividual--to preserve his own life and strive for its continuation inhis off-spring. 

That is the first and foremost thing for you to live for. Why? Becausethe strongest feelings of your whole nature, in accord with yourconscience, tell you so. 

If we consider woman as distinct from man, we find her strongestinstinct and deepest inner feelings impel her to care for and protecther off-spring; but that instead of an impulse to go out and fightagainst the enemy, she feels in her conscience that it is right andnatural for her to rely upon the husband and father to do that. It isfor her to stick close to the babies and pray for his success. 

That is the only difference--a fundamental difference in the innermostfeeling of the male and the female--which appears to have existedalways, and may therefore be regarded as a part of the divine intention. 

Now, after the continuation of life on earth is safeguarded in this way, is there any other deep and general feeling of man's inner nature whichmight furnish an indication of a further purpose for his life?

Is there not in each and every one of us a deep-rooted desire, which iswholly in accord with conscience, to make good in the rôle which hasbeen assigned to us in the mystery of creation? Does not each individualfeel moved to accomplish something beyond the mere continuation of life?Is there not within us a vague aspiration to do well and be somethinggood and fine, according to our means and tastes? Do we not want to be asuccess rather than a failure, both for our own sake and for the sake ofthose we love, who also love us, and cannot help being affected by whatwe do?

If by any chance you are deficient in this feeling yourself, or confusedabout it, you have only to look about any where, at any time, and youwill find it in evidence among normal individuals from the days of earlychildhood. 

A little girl likes to be pretty, to dance well, to sew neatly, to behelpful to her mother, to be petted, loved, approved. 

A little boy wants to be a fast runner, a fine swimmer, a goodfighter--he wants to be strong and brave and self-reliant and many otherthings, besides. He admires these qualities in other boys; a feeling ofhis inner nature, in accord with his conscience, tells him he wouldlike to be that kind of a boy, himself. He feels it is the kind thatevery one ought to want to be. 

And if he is a normal, healthy boy, this feeling arises within him justas naturally and spontaneously as the feeling which comes to a sensitivesoul in the presence of a sunset, or musical harmonies and tells it theyare beautiful. It is quite apart from any far-sighted calculations ofthe intellect concerning the practical use which those qualities may, ormay not, have in after life. 

The same thing is true of the little girl and what she admires andaspires to. 

As the youngsters grow up to be men and women, they are stillsusceptible to the same sort of feeling, in spite of the fact that manyother more practical and material considerations are liable to creep inand confuse it, alter it, distort it. 

Somewhere, in the inner nature of almost everybody, there persists afeeling of admiration for the fine and noble qualities of mankind. Someof those qualities, experience may have demonstrated, are beyond ourpersonal strength and reach--others may have practical disadvantages, which our self-interest and our reason over-rule, but as long as thefeeling is there, it keeps whispering to us, however faintly, that weought to try to live up to the best that is in us and not be satisfiedwith less. 

Let us take care to note that this differs completely from another sortof feeling which cold-blooded cynics are apt to confuse it with. Thisother feeling is inspired by greed and controlled by selfishcalculation, and tells certain individuals that by closing their eyes towhat is beautiful and admirable in human nature, and by taking advantageof any and every opportunity, they may obtain a greater portion ofworldly goods and material pleasures. 

This latter feeling is not in touch with conscience and neither toourselves, nor to others, does it inspire ennobling sentiments. A propername for it is ambition--a selfish quality, whose essence bears norelation to the aspiration of boy and girl, man and woman, toward whatis finest and best. 

This feeling of aspiration, which exists in the soul and appears to beinnate in human beings everywhere, offers a clear and indisputablerevelation of a purpose for man's life, above and beyond the merecontinuation of it. It is one very solid answer to the second part ofthe great question: What is the purpose of my life? To strive towardbetterment and excellence, in accordance with your lights andconscience. Why? Because, just as a feeling within you tells you that asunset is beautiful, so there is this other feeling within you, whichtells you this is fine and right. 

Those are fundamental feelings, planted in all mankind, not accidentalexceptions. They are surely a part of the all-wise design, an essentialpart of your purpose in being here. 

The finest types of men, the leading spirits of humanity, in all agesand climes, from the earliest savages to the most advanced civilization, have always had that kind of feeling and responded to it. It is afundamental fact of the soul life, which leaves no room for doubt. 

Is there any other feeling of this sort which appears to be sofundamental and world-wide that it may be regarded as an innate andessential part of human nature, independent of climate, or race, orintellectual development?

Is there not a sentiment deep down in all mothers and fathers, to wanttheir children to be finer, better, more nearly perfect than theythemselves have been? Has not this sentiment something in it which isquite apart from self-interest, or reason, or the impulses of affection?

Suppose a normal mother is on her death-bed, with but an hour to live?As far as she is concerned, all considerations of self-interest in thisworld are at an end. After one hour, nothing that happens can make anydifference to her, personally. Her children are in an adjoining room andher thoughts and feelings are full of them. That is only natural--almostinevitable. 

What is the essence of her feelings? Love, in the first place. They areinexpressibly dear to her and she feels glad and thankful that all iswell with them. What next? A prayerful hope that they will be happy andsuccessful and live to a ripe old age. For her sake? No, for theirs. 

Does she wish them to be liars and cheats and ingrates, dissipated andcorrupt, if by so doing they can have most pleasure and satisfythemselves? Oh no--not that. Why not? Because there is something withinher which wants them to be fine and good and worthy of their birthright. She wants them to cling fast to the best that is in them, not the worst;to do right and be right, whether it serves their pleasure or not. 

If a mother would naturally feel this way on her death-bed, so might afather, or a grandmother or a grand-father, in any country--in almostany state of civilization--irrespective of any particular creed ordoctrine, to which they might subscribe. 

This is not to be taken as saying that all mothers or fathers would beconscious of this feeling--or would have this feeling in them to anyappreciable extent--or that all individuals may be said to have any ofthe fundamental soul feelings to which we have referred. 

Throughout all nature, and in human life as well, there are to be foundindividual deficiencies and perversions. Since this is as true to-day, as it has been always, in all departments of creation, we can be contentto regard it as part of the all-wise but mysterious scheme. 

To the best of our knowledge and belief, in practically all communitiesof human beings of which there is any record, these few self-samefeelings of man's innermost nature have become plainly, unmistakably, evident. They appear to be inborn fundamentals of the human soul. As faras they go, they may be safely and confidently accepted as indicationsof man's purpose here on earth: the preservation of life, thecontinuation of life, an aspiration in one's own development toward whatis admirable and right, and an equally great aspiration to inculcate anddevelop in one's children the essence of what is best in oneself. 

In the face of any such conclusion, a question naturally arises, which acynical and selfish mind is not slow to make the most of. "If this isthe palpable intention and design of an all-wise Creator, how does ithappen that so many human beings fail to carry out the purpose? Howdoes it happen that so many are relatively deficient, or totallyunconscious of the feelings themselves? If the general aim andaspiration is toward constant betterment and an ideal of perfection, why, after all these centuries of endeavor, haven't we arrived somewherenear the goal? Why do we find among the individuals of to-day in ourcountry less aspirations toward what is fine and right and honorablethan were felt a hundred years ago? Why, when these feelings reached sohigh a standard in the classic days of Greece, did they decline andshrivel and give way to barbarism? Why did the same thing happen inRome? If the divine intention is toward progress and betterment and anideal of right, why has the intention failed so miserably and repeatedlyto be carried out? Why haven't I just as much reason to assume that thedivine intention, if there be any, is the gradual corruption, decay anddisintegration of the human being? Were the motives and behavior of theaverage man ever more corrupt, immoral and baser than they areto-day--all over the world? If we consider the results, where is theevidence of a constant betterment in man's spiritual nature? Myobservations and judgment tell me there are no grounds for any suchassumption and there probably never was any such divine intention. "

The answer to such objections is fairly simple:

"You are attempting to pass judgment, by means of the reasoningprocesses of the intellect, on questions which man's intellect isincapable of understanding. As we found to be the case when consideringthe affections, the result of such an endeavor is a misconception anddistortion. 

"Although you are well aware that neither reason nor science can offerthe faintest glimmer of an explanation as to how, or why, the firstessence of life came into existence, or the first elemental matter, oras to what is the ultimate intention or end of a single thing in thisworld, or any other, yet you have the presumption to criticize the meansand methods being employed for the attainment of those ends by anall-wise Creator, who presumably did know, and does know, what they are. 

"Underlying your questions and comments is a complete misunderstanding. In considering man's purpose in life, I had no thought of determiningGod's purpose in creating man, or in creating life, or in creating theworld in which the life of man is to be found. That surpasses myunderstanding. That there is an all-wise design and purpose of somesort, behind and above it all, I have no doubt. This conviction comesprincipally from a feeling of my innermost nature, which has been foundamong mankind, in all ages--faith. It is confirmed and strengthened bythe evidence of my perceptions and intellect--the beauty and wonder andfitness in all the processes of creation. 

"But even in the simplest facts of nature all about us, there arecountless principles at work whose intention cannot be penetrated byhuman reason. Why were wolves permitted and urged by their instincts todevour innocent lambs? Why were the germs of disease and corruptioncreated with the same bewildering perfection of design and the samemysterious, vital force as the good and beautiful creatures which theyinfest? Why were exquisite flowers and fruit-bearing trees allowed to beovercome by foul fungus and poisonous weeds?

"If our reason is unable to discern the underlying intention in suchsimple, every-day occurrences as these, by what right does it pretend topass judgment on the great complexities and developments of humancivilization?"

What good is accomplished by the rise and fall of an empire? Or by therise and fall of a human individual? What all-wise intention isfulfilled in the deterioration and decay of any thing which has onceseemed admirable and worthy? The human intellect cannot tell. 

As long as the intellect cannot grasp the beginning of creation, or theend, the original cause of man's existence, or the final result--how canit presume to criticize and doubt, without getting out of its elementand beyond its depth?

God's purpose for man, from the point-of-view of God, is an entirelydifferent thing from an individual's purpose in life, from man'spoint-of-view. As this difference is something which appears to giverise to a certain amount of confusion in some people's minds, it isworth clearing up by a simple illustration. 

Suppose a commanding general, in the midst of a campaign, gives ordersfor a brigade to occupy a certain ridge and defend it at all costs?Suppose these orders are carried out and, after a heroic defence lastingseveral days, the entire brigade is wiped out by the enemy?

In such a case, when an order comes, what is, and ought to be, thepurpose of each individual soldier composing the brigade? To obeyorders, do his duty as well and bravely as he can, and hope for thebest--which may be victory, glory and promotion. 

What, now, was the purpose of the general, in issuing the orders? Was itto enable those individual soldiers to win victory and gain promotion?Quite the contrary. His purpose was to delay the enemy advance at thatpoint for forty-eight hours, for reasons of high strategy. 

What was the purpose of God in designing mankind in such a way thatmillions of fine individuals should go forth to maim and exterminateeach other, to the accompaniment of untold suffering and misery?

Because the private does not know the purpose of the general; andbecause neither the private, nor the general, knows the purpose of God, is that a reason to conclude, or imagine, that there is no purpose?

Is that a reason to conclude, or imagine, that the private cannot haveand know a purpose of his own--a fine and worthy purpose of which hisconscience approves? Does not that same observation apply to the generaland to all other individuals, high or low?

Because certain individuals are born blind or deaf, does that imply thatmankind was not designed to see or hear? Because certain individuals, through the effects of disease or abuse, lose their sight, does thatdisprove a purpose for the eye? Because certain communities, or certaincivilizations, decline and decay, through corruption, does that proveanything with regard to the intention and design of the Creator--exceptthat such happenings are apparently a part of the mysterious plan?

It may be that in that plan the soul life of a single individual hasmore lasting significance than the rise and fall of an empire. Such aconception is apt to strike a matter-of-fact intellect as the height ofabsurdity. But even in the material world, when it was first suggestedthat the earth was round, that conception also struck the matter-of-factintellect as the height of absurdity. So did the idea of Columbus--thathe might set sail from Spain, going West, and arrive back at Spain, coming from the East. Nearly all the great discoveries and conceptionsof genius have struck the matter-of-fact intellect as the height ofabsurdity. They dealt with an unknown principle which was different fromaccepted notions. 

But the meaning of a human soul in the eternal plan, or of a certainphase of civilization in the unknown plan, are also unknown principlesand the opinions of the intellect concerning them are purely guess-work. 

If, however, we feel inclined to use our imaginations, there is a lineof thought which might seem to have a remote bearing on this part of thepuzzle. 

In the material world, and the intellectual world, and the estheticworld of art and beauty, we may form a matter-of-fact opinion concerningthings of which we do know something. We can see the effects of certainoccurrences and judge of their relative importance, from man'spoint-of-view. 

Which was more significant and important for the good ofcivilization--that countless millions of men and women, for countlessgenerations, in Mexico and in Persia, talked and thought and exchangedideas--or that one single individual, named William Shakespeare, hadsome ideas which it occurred to him to put on paper?

The brain effort of a single individual more significant for futurehumanity than the rise and fall of an empire! That kind ofconception--dealing with something we know about--does not strike thematter-of-fact intellect as the height of absurdity. 

Was a single painting, the Mona Lisa, of a single individual, Leonardoda Vinci, less important than the millions of paintings made duringcountless generations throughout the entire empire of China?

Do we measure the achievements of a Napoleon, an Alexander, aWashington, by the manner of their decline and death?

It seems simple enough to us that one short life may have more meaningfor the rest of humanity in this world, than millions of other lives. Wecan see and understand and measure the effects of such occurrences asthese, with the intellect. 

But in regard to man's inner feelings, the soul life, because theachievement may not be visible--because its record is not written onpaper--because its true significance is entirely shrouded in themysterious intention of creation, how can the intellect know that theconscientious effort of one short life on earth, however humble, may nothave a bigger meaning and a more lasting value in the divine scheme thanthe accomplishments--material, intellectual, artistic--of millions?

The spiritual side appears undoubtedly to be the highest and finest partof man's nature--why then is it not possible that the spiritual struggleof each and every single soul, however inconspicuous in a worldly way, may be the thing that counts most in the everlasting scheme?

This is a question, we repeat, which all the science of all the wise menof all the generations is completely incapable of deciding. No amount ofreasoning can disprove it, any more than it can prove it. That is thespecial point I have been trying to make clear. Because the coldprocesses of the intellect are inclined to dismiss as absurd all kindsof beliefs and conceptions which they cannot verify, they need not beabandoned on that account. 

VI

SCIENCE AND THE INTELLECT

No amount of reasoning can alter the fact that certain spontaneous andfundamental feelings of man's inner nature inspire him to conscientiouseffort and, as they presumably owe their origin to an all-wise Creator, they may be safely relied on to indicate his part and responsibility inthe mysterious scheme. 

It seems to me that nothing in the whole problem of life is moreimportant than a thorough realization of this undoubted truth--that thebig fundamental feelings of man's better nature are absolutelyindependent and apart from the working of his intellect, or anycalculation of self-interest, conscious or implied, just as they areindependent of his material appetites and instincts. A clearunderstanding of this truth will answer many of the questions which areso apt to confuse the reason and trouble the peace of mind of theaverage much instructed person. 

If a scientific doubter asks us how we can be sure of this, we cananswer without hesitation that the evidence of our own inner feelings isunmistakable proof of it. The only proof of a feeling is the feelingitself. We have it--we are conscious of it--it is, as far as we areconcerned, and it is futile for any outsider to deny it. 

If any one is so constituted that he cannot get the force of this, wemay make the understanding of it easier by turning his attention to thefeelings of man's esthetic nature, which operate in a somewhat similarway. We have already had occasion to refer to them, but we may bepermitted to do so again, with added emphasis. They are an illustrationand a confirmation of the vitally important principle which we have justbeen stating. 

If a setting sun, or a harmony, or musical notes, appeal to my sense ofbeauty and give rise to a vague but delicious emotion of my innernature, all the arguments of all the intellects on earth are powerlessto alter the essence and meaning of that feeling, so far as my nature isconcerned. To me that feeling of beauty is a fact, and it would remainjust as much a fact, even if no other person in the world shared it withme; and every other person in the world undertook to deny its existence. The only proof I have of it, the only proof I need for it, is that Ifeel it. 

Now when the intellect takes upon itself to meddle with such things, alearned professor may explain that a certain musical note is composed ofvibrations--so many thousand per second--which are communicated toparticles of matter in suspension in the air and carried by them to thetympanum of the ear, which acts thus-and-so upon the various componentsof the hearing apparatus, and finally arrives through a system ofganglia to a certain nerve centre, located somewhere in a brain cell, orthe spinal column. He may use a great many other big words and displayvarious kinds of scientific devices for measuring sound waves andcalculating vibrations, but when he has finished, all his science willnot enable him to compose a touching melody, or feel the beauty andinspiration of it. A little child, or a negro mammy, with a soul formusic, will feel and give out something, whose very essence has nothingto do with the intellect and which the most formidable intellect ispowerless to grasp. 

The same thing is true of painting and poetry and sculpture. Thefeelings which inspire them and the feelings which they arouse inreceptive souls are totally independent of the intellect. 

The reason may argue that as one leg of the Venus de Milo is found bymeasurement to be considerably shorter than the other, it is absurd tocall that a beautiful figure of a woman--or that it should excite asmuch admiration as a scientifically constructed statue in which all theproportions would be in accord with carefully tabulated statistics. 

As a photograph of a young and healthy girl is more accurate and morepleasing in subject than a painting of an old woman, what reason isthere for it to arouse less esthetic feeling than an immortal portraitby Rembrandt?

If a description of a small water course, drawn up by a surveyor and alawyer, is exact and comprehensive, why should it not appeal to theimagination and sense of beauty more satisfactorily than a poem byTennyson, entitled "The Brook?"

The obvious answer is that in all such questions the intellect is out ofits element, trying to lay hands on something which has no tangiblesubstance. 

If this point-of-view is not enough to give your intellect food forthought and suggest its very decided limitations in the life of man, youmay turn its light upon the simplest and most material sensations andfeelings which belong to the animal nature and are common to allmankind. 

What reason is there for my brother to dote on fried onions, while Icannot endure them? Why does my uncle like pig's feet and eels andsnails, while my wife is made almost ill at the sight of them? Yourintellect may tell you that you ought to like the taste of castor oil, because it is good for you; but all the intellect in the world cannotmake you like the taste of castor oil. 

The taste, the savor, the feel of things--whether it be in the materialworld, or the esthetic world, or the spiritual world--is a part of lifein which the intellect is forever condemned to remain an outsider. Itmay be very much interested in what is going on, it may reason with thecauses and effects and characteristics of what it sees; it may makesuggestions to the will-power and argue against the impulses which areprompted by the feelings; but it cannot prevent the feelings, or theimpulses, from being there and having their say. 

The life and say of the feelings mean much to the welfare of eachindividual. Let us suppose that the circumstances of my life were suchthat I could truthfully express myself as follows:

"I _feel_ well and strong; I _feel_ that I love my wife devotedly and mywife returns that love; I _feel_ immense affection for my children; I_feel_ I would make any and every sacrifice to protect them and my wifefrom harm; I _feel_ very hopeful about the future, both for my familyand myself; I _feel_ I have done my best, in accordance with my ability;I have a feeling of loyalty to my friends and a feeling of honor in mydealings with my fellow men; I _feel_ content with my lot, inparticular, and the way of the world, in general; and whether my lifewas evolved from a monkey and a protoplasm, or came into being as adivine and perfect conception, I _feel_ an abiding faith in an all-wisebut mysterious purpose for everything. "

There are no material considerations, or calculations of self-interest, or reasoning processes, in this kind of summary. It is made upexclusively of fundamental and spontaneous feelings which are inexistence, to a greater or less extent, among all sorts and manners ofindividuals, in any known stage of civilization. A peasant living in ahut, in a vineyard in Sicily, is just as capable of having them, as amillionaire living in a city palace, or a scientist presiding over anacademy of learning. A native Patagonian, or a Swede, or a Chinaman, maybe just as susceptible to them as a French artist, or an American steelking. As they come from the inner nature, and as all men have an innernature, it is possible for them to be experienced by all men. 

There are, of course, countless other beautiful and inspired feelingsthat may come to life in the inner nature of an individual, but the fewsimple ones which we have suggested are sufficient for an illustration. 

Now let us imagine, for a moment, another illustration. Let us imaginethat a modern intellect, scientifically trained and enlightened, undertook to investigate, analyze, dissect, in a methodical and accurateway, the facts which gave rise to my feelings, or are implied by them, in an effort to determine the reason and reasonableness of suchinteresting phenomena. 

I _feel_ well and strong. "But, " says he, "that does not necessarilyprove that you are well or strong. It may be merely an assumptionfounded on ignorance of scientific facts. " The proper way to determinehow well and strong I am is to have my health and strength tested andrated in an expert way. According to the report of such an expert, mystate of health is only 63 per cent normal and my strength is less than50 per cent of standard for my weight and age. 

Strictly speaking, I am neither well _nor_ strong, and my feeling inthat respect may be dismissed as unwarranted by the facts andconsequently unreasonable. 

"I _feel_ that I love my wife devotedly and that my wife returns thatlove. "

"But, " says the intellect, "those are only words. As a matter of fact, how severe and accurate a test have either of those devotions beensubmitted to? Have you ever been thrown into contact, alone andundisturbed, with a woman who is more beautiful and more appealing thanyour wife--who yearns for you and invites you with abandoned intensity?Has your wife's devotion been subjected to a corresponding test? Untilthat has been done, it is only reasonable to assume that there may be agood deal of exaggeration and self-delusion in the conclusions which youhave arrived at. As there are certain prejudices and difficulties in theway of having these tests made, and as neither you nor your wife appearwilling for the other to try them, any satisfactory estimate of yourreciprocal devotions must remain in abeyance. Our statistics show, however, that in 87 per cent. Of the cases where a mutual andunalterable devotion is supposed to exist, the determining factor on oneside or the other, is the accidental absence of a sufficiently appealingopportunity. The evidence of the divorce courts offers a valuable sourceof information on this phase of the subject. Purely as a matter ofaverages, the conjecture may be hazarded that your assumption in thisregard, as in the other, may be founded on a misconception. "

In the same way, the intellect may introduce reasons and deductions incriticism of my hopes for my children, and the fallacies which may havecrept into my theories of loyalty and honor and aspiration. 

Finally, he might say: "Permit me to observe that you made a curious andsomewhat amazing statement, just now, in reference to faith and anall-wise purpose. Is it possible that you are still under the influenceof an out-grown mediaeval superstition? The only reasonable assumptionwith regard to man's place in the universe has been quite clearly andscientifically established by the modern theory of evolution. It appearsfrom that, that you and I are descended from an ape, which in turn is asecond-cousin-once-removed, so to speak, of the bat, the spider, and theshark. We are all animals together, slowly passing through differentphases of evolution, and man owes his existence entirely to theaccidental results of natural selection and survival of the fittest. Man's tribe happens to be more numerous than that of the elephant, orthe whale, which are larger animals; but less numerous than that of theant, which is almost his equal in intelligence and decidedly moreindustrious, though it is so much smaller than man. Millions of antscome into existence and go out of existence, every day, without makingany appreciable difference in the gradual processes of evolution. Thesame thing may be said of man--or bats and whales. Surely it is hightime that a well-educated person of the twentieth century shouldconsider such things from a reasonable, scientific point-of-view. "

When he has finished with this, if I am still in a receptive mood, hemay condescend to explain to me that self-interest and enlightenedreason supply the true and underlying motives for all conduct; and thatthis is the only conception of life which is susceptible of intelligentexplanation. 

As a matter of fact, although this illustration is entirely fanciful, Iwas given a book to read, the other day, a modern book on morals, inwhich this was the gist of the argument throughout--enlightenedself-interest, or selfishness, as the only sound and sufficient motivefor everything we do. The friend who gave it to me had accepted it asscientific and authoritative and was thoroughly in accord with itsconclusions. I may add that this particular "friend, " as far as I havebeen able to observe, is the quintessence of selfishness. 

My purpose, in imagining these illustrations, was to render obvious andpalpable the limitations of the intellect, when it attempts to translatefeelings into terms of reason, or when it attempts to substitutescientific calculations for spontaneous emotions. The essence of one isfeeling; the essence of the other is logic; and the idea of replacingthe former by the latter is about as incongruous as an attempt to paintthe perfume of a violet with an adding machine. 

In the heart and soul and even in the esthetic nature of everyindividual is that mysterious element, which goes back to the beginningof creation. In many of the finest and most important acts of man, itmay supply either the determining cause, or the principal effect. Itcannot be explained in terms of material self-interest, or enlightenedreason, because its essence is neither material nor reasonable. It hasin it a touch of the ideal and divine, which was implanted in man, orhas evolved in man, in accordance with the all-wise intention. 

When we have succeeded in arriving at a clear realization of thisfundamental truth, and imagine we have put man's intellect back in theplace where it properly belongs, we must pause a moment to make equallyclear that we must not under-estimate the wonder and importance of thatsame intellect, in the life of every individual and the life of mankindin general. 

In this age of science, the attention and interest of the universe havebeen largely focussed on the marvellous achievements of the humanintellect. Discoveries, inventions, advanced methods and great stridesof progress in countless directions are the boast and pride of moderntimes. There is no disputing this, nor is there any doubt but that agreat wave of scientific accomplishment, which was somewhat slow indeveloping, has, within the last two generations, suddenly assumed themost stupendous and bewildering proportions. The railroad and theautomobile; the telephone and electric light; the airplane, phonograph, moving picture; anti-septic surgery and the germ theory of disease; thedreadnought, the submarine and wireless telegraphy;--these are but a fewstriking examples of the hundreds and thousands of achievements whichthe intellect has been able to accomplish in a comparatively short spaceof time. 

No wonder that we hear and read on all sides such constant and confidentreference to the "advancement of science, " the "progress of humanity, "and the bewildering resourcefulness of man's brain. 

All those achievements are objective and impersonal; they concern thecomforts and welfare, of each and every one of us, to a greater or lessextent, but in a purely material and general way. 

When we turn to the personal life of the individual and consider hisacts and motives, subjectively, we find that the rôle played by theintellect is almost equally important. 

As we have seen in our previous discussions, the intellect has a say innearly everything we do or think of doing. It enquires into the cause, and considers the effect, and passes judgment, for or against, inaccordance with the dictates of its reason. If a certain instinct withinus, which may be purely animal, has a need for food or water, theintellect recognizes and approves the need; but if the food and waterset before us is poisonous or unfit, it is the intellect whichdetermines that and overrules the instinct. If another instinct, orimpulse, prompts us to set fire to a house, or jump out of a window, theintellect decides that such an act would be unreasonable and forbids usto do so. 

It frequently happens that two or more of our instincts, inclinations, desires, are opposed to each other. I want to eat my apple now; I wantto keep it to eat at the ball-game; and I want to trade it for Tim'slignum-vitć top. In such a case, it is the intellect which considers theadvantages and disadvantages of each and announces its decision. If itis a healthy intellect, in good control, it will enforce its decision, too; but even if it isn't, and an unruly impulse proves too strong to bedenied, that won't prevent the intellect from pointing out the mistakethat is being made and keeping it in memory for future reference. 

It is not necessary to go over all this ground again. We have alreadyexamined it with sufficient care in connection with the first answerwhich we gave to the up-to-date youth who wanted to know why heshouldn't follow his every inclination. The various examples which wecited to illustrate the significance of reason and experience are enoughto establish the point we are now making. 

As far as the material things of this world are concerned, and thematerial needs of the individual, the intellect is generally andproperly acknowledged as the sovereign master. The rule of reason inprivate life; and the rule of science in civilization have become moreand more the accepted standards of the world in which we live. 

If an instinct or a desire is unreasonable, it should not be allowed toprevail; if a tradition or a convention of the past is unscientific, itshould be discarded and ridiculed as something out-of-date. That is theconclusion which advanced intellects have reached through scientificmethods of enlightenment; it is the message they have beencommunicating, the example which they have been setting, until thewide-spread results are becoming increasingly apparent among allclasses and in nearly all places, where modern science and civilizationhave penetrated. 

It ought not to be very difficult for any one to recognize andunderstand why the methods of science and the rule of reason occupy sucha dominant place in public estimation as they undoubtedly do to-day. Theonly natural question is why they have not always, in by-gonegenerations, occupied just as high a place. The answer to this questionis very simple, though some people's attention may not have been calledto it. The scientific method of investigation, as we know it to-day, isa comparatively recent product of the human intellect. There was noscience of any such kind when Homer wrote the Iliad, or when theChristian religion was founded, or when Leonardo da Vinci painted theMona Lisa and Shakespeare wrote his masterpieces. Even at the time ourgreat American republic was put into operation, modern science was stillin its swaddling clothes. It is only in the last two generations that itmay be said to have reached its true form and begun turning out in rapidsuccession the multitude of discoveries and inventions which have hadsuch an immense effect in the daily life of civilization. 

It also takes a certain amount of time for great changes to permeate, and become absorbed by masses of people, so that it should not seemstrange if many of the indirect results have only begun to be noticeablewithin the past few years. 

And now if we look about and pause to reflect on these triumphs ofmodern science, as they affect the life and ideas and feelings of theaverage individual, a very curious and somewhat startling question isliable to suggest itself. 

Is it possible that right here may be the main and underlying cause ofthe so-called "demoralization" of the present generation? Is it possiblethat the "impossible notions" and the equally "impossible conduct" ofthe up-to-date young people which grandmother finds so shocking aretraceable to this source? Is it possible that faith, honor, loyalty andother ideals and aspirations of man's better nature, are being neglectedand corrupted by the methods of modern science and the rule of reason?

The very idea of such a possibility, when it first dawned upon me, seemed like such a palpable absurdity that I put it aside, yet as Ifollowed the other trains of thought which have been under discussion, this idea kept recurring with greater and greater persistency. If ithappened to be true, the lesson to be derived from it might prove soimportant and helpful to struggling humanity, that it appears to me, now, entitled to careful consideration. 

Let us begin with a general commentary and ask ourselves--How comes it, while scientific methods have achieved such amazing results in thematerial world, they have not succeeded equally well in improving theinner nature of man? How comes it that science, with all itsinvestigations and accurately reasoned conclusions, cannot show theindividuals of the present day how to make better paintings than Raphaelor Titian? Or better statues than Michael Angelo? Or better music thanChopin or Wagner? Or better literature than Moliere or Shakespeare?

It can show him how to make a hundred times better ship, or factory, orsurgical operation; but when it comes to this other kind of thing, itappears to have made no improvement at all. Those artists we have namedand hundreds of others in past centuries, who made immortalmasterpieces, had no intellects enlightened by modern science, nor anyof the benefits of modern education and progress. If we may judge at allby results (which is the modern, enlightened way), the only effect ofscience in teaching people how to get an inspiration and find abeautiful expression for it, has been a detriment rather than a help. 

If you take a boy to-day, who has a natural bent for poetry, orpainting, how much will you help him by filling his mind with scientificmethods and theories, rules and exceptions, deductions and compilations, of the various elements which should logically determine the value ofthe finished product? By giving his intellect a thorough course inscientific training, which may occupy his time and absorb his energy formany years, is it not possible that you will turn out in the end aplodding hack, instead of the inspired artist who might have been?

Did anybody ever feel the poetic beauty of a rose with greater intensityfor having examined its petals through a microscope, and learned toclassify it scientifically, both as to species and variety?

Did anybody ever learn by scientific rules of grammar and classifiedtables of words, to speak a foreign language with the ease and charm ofa child, who picks it up from a stupid governess in one-tenth the time?The childlike, natural way to learn a language is to absorb it into thesystem, almost without effort, until it becomes a part of secondnature--in much the same way that we absorb tunes. Without the slightestconscious effort, we are absorbing and retaining countless bars ofmusic, all through our lives--yet can anybody imagine an enlightenedintellect, undertaking to analyze and classify with scientific methodthe use of sharps and flats in different kinds of bars, and attemptingto learn them in that form?

Homer's Iliad and Virgil's Ćneid are generally regarded as greatmasterpieces of literature. They are full of poetic feeling, imagination, charm and inspiring sentiments. They are still being readby thousands of boys and girls, every year, but they are being read tothe accompaniment of grammars, lexicons, and the commentary of learnedprofessors, upon roots, derivatives and obsolete usages. A vast amountof time and energy is devoted to this undertaking, which is usuallyjustified on the ground that it affords excellent training for theintellect. But how about the feelings of admiration and enthusiasm whichworks of such great beauty were intended to inspire? Are they exercisedto the same extent? Or is the tendency rather to trammel and divert themby so much laborious and irrelevant interference?

When we turn to the more personal feelings of the individual, in hisintimate relations with other beings, is not the situation much thesame? Has scientific thought discovered, or devised, any means ofincreasing the warmth and tenderness of the human heart? Has the ruleof reason made husbands and wives any more devoted to each other, or totheir friends? It has succeeded in providing a great many people with atelephone and an automobile, but has it succeeded equally well inproviding them with generous feelings of self-denial and considerationfor others? Or has its tendency, on the contrary, been rather tointerfere with the spontaneous development of such feelings, byattempting to replace them by an analysis of human motives in whichcalculations of self-interest are made the prime factor?

But it is only when we come to the spiritual feelings that the reallyradical effects of science upon man's nature are encountered. And themethod of these changes is so eminently "reasonable, " as to be almostself-explanatory. 

First is the question of religion, which in all countries and at alltimes has been such an important influence in the conduct of mankind. For the time being, let us be content to confine our attention to ourown country and our own Christian religion, and ask ourselves franklywhat conclusions the modern methods of scientific investigation and themodern rule of reason might be expected to arrive at in regard to that?What about all the miracles so devoutly recorded in the Bible? Throughinvestigation and reason, science to-day considers itself in a positionto pronounce them totally unscientific; and the rule of reason concludesthat they were presumably founded on the imagination, credulity andignorance which prevailed in an unenlightened period. What about theangels with the flaming swords, and the voices from on high, the goldenthrones of heaven, the raging fires of hell, and the childlike accountof the world's creation? With the same complacent assurance, modernscience and reason are pleased to brush them aside as concoctions ofignorance and credulity. And so with countless other ideas set down inthis same holy book--the motives of jealousy and vanity attributed tothe all-wise Ruler--His insistence upon formalities in the manner ofworship and baptism and christening--His threats concerning otheralleged gods and unbelievers, who dare to dispute His sovereignty. Allsuch ideas, when subjected to the acid test of scientificallyenlightened reason, are shown in the colors of absurdity and ridicule. 

The general conclusion arrived at by this kind of investigation isconsidered by scientific minds entirely logical and inevitable. As thisso-called holy book is found to contain so many errors, inaccuracies, false statements and absurdities, the notion, or claim, of its being a"revelation, " communicated, or inspired, from a supernatural source, isunreasonable and untenable. An all-wise Creator could not be ignorant, or inaccurate. This particular book, like many other similar and rivalones to be found in other parts of the world, may be scientificallyassumed to be no more than a typical and very creditable product of theunenlightened civilization which gave it birth. 

This tendency and effect of modern science is so direct and obvious thathe who runs may read. How far it has already spread and acted upon thegreat numbers of people who compose our population is not possible todetermine. Nor is it of any great importance. As we observed before, ittakes considerable time for great changes of this sort to permeate toand become absorbed by the masses. But the evidence is only too plain, on all sides, that this operation is now in full swing and gainingground rapidly. Among the up-to-date people of the new generation, thereligious beliefs of a very large proportion have become so confused andunsettled by it, that they are no longer quite sure in their own heartswhether they have any at all. If you have any doubts about this matter, or have overlooked it, a very little enquiry among the people you meetevery day, of all classes and kinds, will suffice to bring it home toyou. 

Of course, there are still in every community a considerable number ofpeople who cling bravely to the traditions of the past, who deplore andcombat with indignation the up-to-date and demoralizing tendencies; whostill believe in their religion as firmly as ever, who still regard theBible as a divine revelation; and who still display the same fervidattachment to the various forms and ceremonies of their particularchurch. 

There are also probably a few who, for private reasons, although theyhave really ceased to believe, are still to be found sitting in churchpews. 

But when we consider that modern scientific methods are of comparativelyrecent origin, the wonder should be, not that so many people haveresisted their tendencies in the matter of religion and still cling totheir beliefs, but that such great numbers have been affected by them inso short a time. 

It seems only too plain and palpable that this is the inevitabletendency of modern science, when brought to bear upon traditionaldoctrines. It eats them away, bit by bit, and step by step, until thereis nothing left but a crumbling residue. 

But this is only one side of it--the negative side--which applies towhat science has been taking down. There is also a positive side, whichapplies to what science has undertaken to set up in its place. 

As we have had occasion to note, the fundamental feelings of faith andaspiration are not dependent upon any particular form of religion. Faithhas been found to subsist and flourish under various creeds and allmanners of worship, in all stages of civilization. All that it wants issomething to shelter and sustain and encourage it, in its strugglesagainst the baser instincts. Any religion which does this, by appealingto the imagination and inspiring whole-souled belief, might beconsidered satisfactory in any given community. 

The next question, therefore, which we are entitled to ask ourselves isthis:

After science has succeeded in eating into and breaking down theparticular temple in which our fundamental faith had found a refuge, what fitting substitute has it been able to discover or devise, in orderto meet this universal requirement?

The nearest approach to a scientific answer appears to be the theory ofevolution, which informs man that, instead of being a special andmajestic creation of an all-wise Almighty, as he had so foolishly andignorantly imagined, he can consider himself a remote and more or lessaccidental, development of a protoplasm; and more immediately, thelineal descendant of the ape, to whom he still bears a closeresemblance, in a scientific way. 

As there is nothing about an ape, or a protoplasm to be accepted as ahaven of refuge, science points to another conclusion. (And in quotingscience, here or elsewhere, let it be borne in mind that I make no claimof speaking as a scientific expert, but am merely attempting to give thegeneral gist and point-of-view as it affects the average intelligence. In such a general way, this, then, is what science says:)

"If you must worship something, instead of taking a figment of theimagination, why not pick out something real and established, aboutwhose insistence there can be no doubt--the most logical and admirablething on earth--your own self and your scientifically enlightenedintellect? If you need a creed of some sort, to take the place of theantiquated one which science has broken down, why not accept a pleasingand simple creed which is entirely logical? Let your conduct be governedat all times by your own self-interest and the rule of reason. Foreverything that happens in this world, there must be a cause; and forevery act of a living thing, there must be a motive, either conscious orunconscious. These are universal facts which have been adequatelyestablished by scientific research. In the case of an individual man, the only logical and sufficient motive which can be arrived at in ascientific way, to explain his conduct, under any and all circumstances, is the principle of self-interest, which he shares, with all otheranimals. This may be conscious or unconscious, more or less enlightened, or more or less deluded by ignorance and instinct; but that in no wayaffects the application of the principle. "

This is the only practical substitute which science has to offer for thereligious structures which it has been slowly, but surely, destroying. But as this also is no haven of refuge for the vague feelings of faithand aspiration, where are they to go? In the process of demolition, theyappear to have been left groping about, more dead than alive, under theruins. 

With an upheaval of this kind, spreading in the souls of great numbersof people, and their fundamental faith groping in confusion, is thereanything strange in the fact that we hear and see constant references to"the spirit of unrest, " which has become so prevalent among all classesat the present time?

In the relations of capital and labor, in the political world and thebusiness world; in the divorce courts and domestic life, the deportmentof women and the bringing up of children; in various other forms anddirections, both public and private, no less than in churchcircles--there has been rapidly accumulating evidence of a mysteriousinfluence of some sort, with a tendency to confuse and unsettle thestandards and conduct of mankind. 

This state of affairs is not confined to our own country. It appears tobe equally evident in England, if we may believe the testimony of thosewho pretend to know. In confirmation of this, it may be worth while togive a few quotations from a more or less authoritative and muchdiscussed English book which was published recently. In the concludingchapter of his work, the author refers more particularly to thearistocracy of England, a privileged class of men who in the past havegenerally been considered a bulwark of traditional and lofty standards. 

At the present time, the author says:

 We are a nation without standards, kept in health rather by memories which are fading than by examples which are compelling. .. . We still march to the dying music of great traditions, but there is no captain of civilization at the head of our ranks. We have indeed almost ceased to be an army marching with confidence towards the enemy, and have become a mob breaking impatiently loose from the discipline and ideals of our past. 

 . .. Aristocracy has lost its respect for learning, it has grown careless of manners, it has abandoned faith in its duty, it is conscious of no solemn obligations, but it still remains for the multitude a true aristocracy, and looking up at that aristocracy, for its standards, the multitude has become materialistic, throwing Puritanism to the dogs, and pushing as heartily forward to the trough as any full-fed glutton in the middle or the upper ranks of life. 

 . .. There is no example of modesty, restraint, thrift, duty, or culture. Everything is sensual and ostentatious, and shamefacedly sensual and ostentatious. 

 . .. It is a grievous thing to corrupt the minds of the simple. The poor have always believed in heartiness and cheerfulness. All their proverbs spring out of a keen sense of virtue. All their games are of a manly character. To materialize this glorious people, to commercialize and mamonize it, to make it think of economics, instead of life, to make it bitter, discontented and tyrannous, this is to strike at the very heart of England. 

The author of this book has a very clear idea, very forcibly expressed, that the example of the upper classes, the leading citizens in thecommunity, exerts a great influence on the others. That is a universalprinciple which applies, in greater or less degree, to all othercountries, including America. It furnishes a simple explanation of howcomparatively stupid people, who do very little thinking of any kind, may be found putting into effect motives and points-of-view which owetheir origin to the enlightened reason of a few superior intellects. 

Also it may be observed that while the author appears to recognize andaffirm with conviction a general demoralization of standards among thearistocracy, he does not attempt to suggest any visible cause for it. Itmay be gathered, in a way, that he takes for granted that, somehow, itis a consequence of the World War. This notion, as we have seen, is soapt to be fallen back on as a convenient excuse for anything andeverything that is now taking place. 

But to the best of my knowledge and belief, confirmed by all manner oftestimony and information, the tendencies in England which the authorrefers to, no less than the similar tendencies in America, were plainlyin evidence and rapidly gathering momentum before the beginning of war. 

For tendencies which appear to be world-wide, it is fair to assume thatthere must be some cause, or causes, which are world-wide also. Thespread of modern science complies with that. Our English author refersto the declining influence and lack of vitality of the English church, without hazarding an opinion as to the cause. The idea which we havegotten hold of affords a clue to that part of it, at least. 

If it is also a clue to all the rest, as I suggest it may be, then, byfollowing its lead in different directions, we ought to unearth lucidexplanations for the various phenomena which are disturbing andperplexing so many people. 

Let us go on a little further and see just what we do find. 

Let us imagine, for a moment, that I am a workman, a mechanic, of theaverage intelligence to be found among the great run of so-called commonpeople. I have heard enough about modern science to be lost in wonder ofit and I received a good modern education at the high school. I gave upgoing to church because it didn't appeal to me--a lot of the Biblepreaching seemed out-of-date, unreasonable and unpractical. I've heard alittle about this theory of evolution--man descended from an ape--and asmodern science is said to have proved it, I guess it must be so. Themain thing that concerns me is that I'm here, on the job, with a livingto make. There are a lot of other men around me, about the same as I am. We're reasonable and practical and believe in getting all we can, honestly. We think we're about as good as anybody else and we believe inthe rule of the majority. 

When I look about at the people born luckier than I am, with more of theworld's goods, I can't see that they're any different from the rest ofus. They're trying to get all they can, too, only they've managed to geta blame sight more than the rest of us. Take my boss, for instance. Isthere any reason for him to be living in a big house with eightservants, and riding around in a limousine car, when all I can afford isa flivver? Does he work any harder than I do? Is he any better man? orany smarter? I haven't seen any proof of it. But just because hehappened to have a rich father before him, he's allowed to get thelion's share of all we make. Is that reasonable? We all want the goodthings of life, as much as he does, and if we're in the majority, whyshouldn't we have our share?

He didn't make the capital that's in this business, and he didn't haveanything to do with making his rich father; and the money his fathermade, when you come down to it, was squeezed from men like us. If theworld is supposed to be run by reason, and reason says the majorityought to rule, why shouldn't each one of us have an equal share withhim?

I'm thinking of myself, of course, the same as everybody else--first, last and all the time--and in that way I'd be a lot better off, but thatdoesn't prevent what I want from being reasonable. 

Without saying it, in so many words, is it not plain that I am merelyfollowing in a way that an ordinary mind might understand, the creedwhich science has recommended as the underlying motive for allconduct--self-interest and the rule of reason. 

Doubtless a very highly developed scientific intellect might declarethat my reason is not sufficiently enlightened; but it has received ahigh school education, and looked about at what other people are doing, and formed the scientific habit of sticking to the facts. Isn't thatabout as much as Enlightened Reason could expect of me?

 * * * * *

Now if you happen to be another type of workman, less affected by themodern scientific conclusions concerning life, you might reply asfollows:

"I feel very contented and humbly grateful to the Lord for all thebenefits he has given us. I am well and strong, I have a better home, and better wages, and squarer treatment than workmen ever received inany country in the world. I can make enough to provide modestly andcomfortably for my wife and children, which after all is the main thingfor my happiness. It is not for me to pass judgment on the life of ouremployer, or his inheritance, or the life of his father before him, orthe great scheme of human existence which is behind and beyond it all. It is enough for me to accept such things, as the wish of an all-wiseCreator. "

Of these two opposing points of view, which appears to be the one thathas been spreading and gaining in the world to-day--in America andEngland, Italy, France, Spain and other countries? Which one isdependent upon the fundamental feelings of faith and aspiration, whichhave always found shelter in a religion of some sort--and which one maybe traced, almost directly, to a crude interpretation of the progressand dictates of modern science?

And let it be noted that in this field, also, before the world warbegan, this movement of self-interest and reason was already in evidenceand well on its way. 

If we examine the Labor Union and the Closed Shop, and Strikes andSocialism and Bolshevism, and all those other kindred isms, we can see, readily enough, that the under side of them all is tarred with the samebrush--self-interest, selfishness, greed, individual and collective, andreason, argument, excuse, more or less distorted and perverted, but moreor less enlightened by the principles of modern Science, as they appearto the average intellect. The fundamental and innate spiritual feelingsof man's better nature have been so covered over by the energy of thisbrush that, for the most part, they are only rarely and intermittentlydiscernible. 

Suppose we now follow our clue in another direction--into the home andfamily and private life of the average up-to-date woman. And it ispermitted us to imagine, if we choose, that I am such a woman, while youare my well-meaning, but rather out-of-date, husband. 

I have received my education at a typical school of the present day, organized on thoroughly modern and scientific principles. In my studiesand my general instruction, I have learned to consider everything from astrictly rational point-of-view--hygiene, psychology, economics, theequal rights of the individual, the expediency of the laws, the need ofjudges to interpret them and of police to enforce them--and a variety ofother school subjects which are regarded as an excellent training forthe intellect. Among other things which I learned very quickly, bothoutside and inside of school, is that most pompous and impressivepreachers don't practise what they preach. It's so unpractical andunreasonable that it appears to be a sort of pretence and convention forthe benefit of the young and gullible. I find it more sensible to beguided by what other intelligent people around you are actually doingand learn in that way what they really think. 

This is the era of woman's emancipation and the most intellectual andleading women of to-day believe that woman is the equal of man; and hasas much right as he to the privileges and freedom of action, in everydirection, which he was able so long and so unfairly to reserve forhimself. As other women think that way about it and it's much moresatisfactory to me, I thoroughly agree with them. Marriage is anagreement between equals, a partnership for mutual convenience andhappiness, and exactly the same obligations apply to one, as the other. If men find pleasure in smoking and drinking and gambling and flirtingwith pretty women, why shouldn't I smoke and drink and gamble and flirtwith attractive men? If other women paint their faces, or dye theirhair, or wear short skirts to show their silk stockings, or low-neckedand low-backed gowns, to make themselves more attractive, why shouldn'tI?

In regard to my children, I love them, of course, and I believe inbringing them up in accordance with modern, enlightened ideas. First ofall, I want their love and affection--the pleasure of having them run tome and throw their arms about me, when I come into the room. If I scoldthem and spank them and keep interfering with their natural instincts, Imight end up by making them afraid of me--as they are of their father. Idon't want that. I much prefer to pet them and spoil them and findexcuses for them. 

I have so many interests and engagements of my own to attendto, --social, civic, musical, charitable--that I haven't much time ornerves left, to devote to my children. An up-to-date emancipated womancould hardly be expected to subject herself to that kind of hum-drumstrain, in any case. My nervous system is very highly organized andtheir restless activity makes me irritable. I couldn't stand very muchof it--even if I didn't have my own affairs to occupy most of my time. Ialways try to make it a point, however, to see them and kiss them andhave them throw their arms about me, before going to bed. I get the bestnurse I can for them--the present one is a Swede, the last one, Irish--but they seem to be such stupid, cranky things! However, onething I insist upon--they are not to slap the children, and are to letthem have their own way, as far as possible. And I make it equally plainto the children that if they have any grievance, they needn't mind abouttheir father--all they have to do is come to me, and throw their armsabout my neck, and I will do the best to straighten it out for them. That does a great deal to help me keep their affection. 

If I get tired of my husband and cease to love him (or find some otherman whom I love more), or if my husband neglects and humiliates me and Ifind him involved in an affair with another woman; or for any otherreason which seems sufficient to me; I consider it only proper that Ishould have the right to go to a divorce court and dissolve thepartnership. As it is an arrangement between equals, for mutualconvenience and happiness, when it ceases to be convenient or agreeableto me, it is perfectly reasonable that I should withdraw. That is to myself-interest guided by reason. Thousands upon thousands of other womenare doing it, and no up-to-date enlightened person thinks any the worseof them--so why shouldn't I?

You, my well meaning, but out-of-date husband, may be imagined asreplying to this briefly as follows:

"What has become of all the deep and beautiful feelings of faith anddevotion and self-sacrifice, which throughout the ages have given aheavenly significance to the ideal of motherhood and wife-hood? Womanwas not made in the same mold as man and such was evidently not theintention of the all-wise Creator. But in man's imagination and in hisbetter nature, the essence of woman's purpose and greatness has appearedto consist in being a sort of guardian angel of the home and family. Hercrown was made of purity, chastity, modesty, infinite tenderness andpatience and underlying fidelity to her sacred cause. It is to her inthis capacity, with such a crown upon her head, that the noblest of menhave been willing to bow down, in humbleness and submission, not as toan equal, or a rival in worldly prowess, but as to a superior and moreexquisite soul. 

"That is the birthright of woman, the glory of her creation, yet betweenyour petty motives of self-interest and the up-to-date enlightenment ofyour intellect, you are trying to argue it off the face of the earth. You have exchanged a spiritual ideal of womanhood for a material mess ofpottage. "

 * * * * *

There have been plenty of vain and selfish women, in the past, just asthere have been profligate women and immoral men; but in the communitiesof the past, where faith and aspiration were wont to flourish and besustained and encouraged by religion, such selfishness was not to beavowed or imitated. In the light of finer and more spiritual feelings, it appeared as a deficiency and corruption of character. But in theup-to-date rule of reason, backed by the analysis and conclusions ofscience, there is no need to conceal it, or excuse it. It is the strongminds, not the weak ones, which set the example; the enlightened, scientific, matter-of-fact intellects, which proclaim the principle andencourage the timid and less advanced to follow in their wake. 

As regards the training of children, up-to-date considerations ofself-interest on the part of the parents, mixed in with instinctivelove, as I have suggested by my illustration, would naturally result ingiving them an early start on the broad highway of calculatingselfishness. 

All the imposing school houses which dot the length and breadth of ourland--public-schools, private-schools, boarding-schools--are constructedand administered in accordance with modern principles. In them no effortis spared to educate and enlighten the youthful intellect. It is trainedin scientific information, and scientific methods, and scientific habitsof thought. Rewards of one kind or another--diplomas, marks, privileges, prizes--are designed to operate as a stimulant for intellectual endeavorand excellence. Also considerable effort is expended, to care for healthand develop the body, in accordance with scientific principles. In thegymnasium and on the athletic field, prizes are given to stimulateexcellence in this branch of endeavor. 

But where, in all these institutions, are scientific professors devotingan equal amount of energy to the care and development of the feelingsand sentiments of the spiritual nature? Where are the teachers ofmodesty and self-denial? Of cheerfulness and sympathy and considerationfor others? Of sincerity, honor, fidelity, --conscience, aspiration, andfaith in a mysterious, all-wise destiny? Where are the prizes and marksto stimulate endeavor in these? What eloquent and inspiring assurancedoes this science give to the youthful soul that its delicate feelingsare of more importance in the life of man than any excellence of thebody, or the intellect?

A simple, old-fashioned mother, who loved her children with her wholesoul, might go a long way toward supplying this need. With no thought ofself-interest, but with a feeling of deepest devotion to them and theirwelfare, she was usually more than willing, to do all that seemed bestfor their spiritual growth, with the help of God. In this inspiredcause, she had no thought of sparing herself, or them, from self-denialor self-sacrifice. Such an undertaking on the part of motherhood hasgenerally been regarded as a beautiful thing, the most beautiful andsublime on earth--perhaps for the very reason that it calls for so muchself-denial and is so completely devoid of selfishness. 

But an up-to-date mother, reasonably persuaded that she is the equal andrival of her husband in worldly pursuits, could hardly be expected tohandicap herself in any such way. In accordance with the principle ofself-interest and the rule of reason, she can make a much moreconvenient and agreeable arrangement. The money which her husbandprovides can be used to hire nurses and governesses, who will take thechildren off her hands; and at an early age they can be sent away to afirst-class school and so relieve her of all bother and responsibility. After that, comes college and then, of course, the rest is their affair. 

While they are little, she can kiss them good-night and feel theirlittle arms about her neck and dote on their tender affection; andlater, when they come back from school for their vacations, she can makea great fuss about them and let everybody admire the fond and foolishdemonstrations of a mother's love. 

With due regard for the variations and differences of degree which occurin specific cases, does this not represent, both with regard toup-to-date women and the training of up-to-date children, the generalunderlying tendency which is causing so much comment? It can hardly byany stretch of the imagination, be attributed to the world war, especially as it was already in evidence before the war. But, as we havetried to make plain, it can be traced very simply and almost directly tothe influences and effects of the modern scientific movement, and thematter-of-fact habit of mind engendered by it, which accepts as alogical conclusion, the principle of self-interest and the rule ofreason. 

If we continue to follow our clue in other directions, wherever theup-to-date principles, or lack of principle, have been causing comment, disturbing traditions, or appearing as a spirit of unrest, we find themsusceptible of the same general observations and the same generalexplanation. 

A distinctly modern idea, that the nations of the world, as well as theindividuals, should forever remain at peace; and that all differencesbetween them should be settled by arbitration, is a typical product ofthe modern and scientific intellect. It has been much talked of latelyand widely endorsed by logical persons. It is perfectly in accord withthe principle of self-interest and the rule of reason. There is norational justification for the immense loss of life, suffering, destruction and devastation caused by war. The only trouble about theprinciple is that, as it deals with human beings, there is with this, aswith other questions of conduct, that same unknown factor--the spiritualside of man's nature. One of the most fundamental feelings ofmanhood--true for a nation, as it is for an individual--is that it isright, sublimely and everlastingly right, for a man to fight for hiswife and children, to fight for his home and native land, to fight forhonor and to fight for right, as his conscience points to it. 

It was in obedience to such a feeling that countless devout Christians, in the Middle Ages, fought and killed to uphold their religion. Theirconsciences did not reprove them, it inspired them--notwithstanding thecurious fact that one of the doctrines of their Bible was "to resist notevil" and to "turn the other cheek. " But the fundamental feelings withinthem, of right and wrong, of faith and aspiration, were stronger than acreed. 

The same thing was true of one of the wisest and most spiritual men whoever lived--Abraham Lincoln. In his conscience, he felt it was right forslaves to be freed and for the integrity of our nation to be preserved, no matter how great the cost of life and suffering and devastation. 

The decisions of a board of arbitration, of cold intellects, basingtheir decisions on reasons of expediency, or abstract and scientificprinciples of a worldly kind, could not satisfy such feelings, or bepermitted to override them. Lincoln would not, and could not, have feltjustified in abandoning his cause to the opinion of European intellects, any more than the militant Christians could have their faith regulatedby the decisions of Chinese and Persians. 

It is in recognition of this principle, that up to the present timequestions which may affect the honor of a nation have not beenconsidered a fit subject for arbitration. As long as faith andaspiration and their kindred feelings are in the ascendant, consciencewill tell the individual, as it will tell the nation, that certainthings cannot and must not be abandoned, even at the cost of life. 

If through the influence of the rule of reason, such a conception may beoverlooked by the enlightened intellects of W. J. Bryan and WoodrowWilson, and a host of other well-educated people, that fact in itselfmay be regarded as an additional symptom of the extent to which modernscientific training has spread confusion in the sentiments of thepresent generation. 

Countless people are to be met with every day whose strongest innerfeelings are not strong enough to revolt at the thought of being passedupon, or decided against, by the matter-of-fact arbitration of reason. 

 I could not love thee, dear, so well Loved I not honor more. 

The meaning of those inspired words, to the average up-to-date mind, isso lacking in common-sense and self-interest, as to appear simplesilliness. 

The other day, I was talking to a friend about the bringing up of ourboys and, in the course of our conversation, he expressed a sentimentwhich struck me as profoundly significant. He said: "I would rather havemy boy _be_ something fine, even if he got nowhere by it, than to seehim receive recognition and reward for doing something not so fine--andI would rather have my boy feel that way about it, too. "

By way of illustration, if a bully were kicking a little tot, my friendwould rather have his boy fight the bully and get licked and rolled inthe dust, than to see his boy win first prize and much applause, forout-boxing a boy smaller than himself. 

Of course that is quite contrary to up-to-date principles and scientificenlightenment. There is no course in any of the high schools whichteaches that sentiment, and the whole tendency of scientific training isto judge things by their tangible results. Moreover, the rule of reasonwould decide that your boy is not justified in resorting to a fight, under any circumstances. He might get hurt, or hurt somebody else. Thepropriety and right of the bully to do his kicking, should be settled byarbitration. An impartial investigation might determine that the littletot had done something to irritate the bully to such an extent that hisdisplay of anger and brutality was but a natural reaction. 

Again and again, we arrive at the same underlying observation andexplanation. The intellect, scientifically enlightened, would argue awayand take the place of innate, inspired feelings, whose faith has beencorrespondingly impaired and shaken by the breaking down of religiousshelter and sustenance. 

The relative passing away of honor in the business affairs of man, andits replacement by technical and hair-splitting calculations oflegality, which pass for honesty; the system of graft and pull andprivate benefit, which appears to have permeated and fastened itselfupon most of the political machines in most of the cities of our land;the personal immorality, or unmorality, and practical cynicism, whichare so much in evidence, even among the best educated and mostenlightened--especially among the best educated and most enlightened--inpublic and in private, in their own homes and in their neighbors' homes, as well as in the divorce courts; the conduct of the up-to-date youngmen, turned out by our most progressive schools--those of the leadingfamilies, no less than those in humbler walks of life--their increasingreadiness to treat every pretty girl they meet as a proper field ofendeavor and a possible instrument of pleasure; and the correspondingattitude among thoroughly educated and up-to-date girls, in acceptingand welcoming such treatment; all these characteristic symptoms of themodern spirit, of the so-called "unrest, " need not be referred, in anybut a secondary and accessory way, to the after effects of a war, whichdid not begin until their line of progress was already plainlyindicated. 

Instead of that, with all these symptoms in mind, let us sum up thelogical effect upon the average individual of our progressive methodsand training. 

Does he not say to himself, and should he not be expected to say tohimself:

"This is a wonderful age we live in, with the automobile, telephone, moving picture, victrola, and all the other inventions. Modern scienceis the greatest thing ever. And one of the biggest things it has donewas to puncture a lot of old-fashioned superstitions and conventions, sothat nowadays no sensible person need believe in them. Each person canrun his own life in his own way, in accordance with the dictates of hisown reason. Of course, there are the laws--but barring prohibition, which everybody breaks, --there's nothing in the others that a reasonableperson need have trouble with. "

The obvious tendency of this is toward unmorality, rather thanimmorality--what is good for self, in the eyes of self, withoutreference to religion, tradition or convention. The fundamental feelingsof faith and aspiration which found protection and expression in thoseforms have been obscured and disregarded in the confusion of thebreak-down. Also the practical wisdom and accumulated experience ofages, which were crystallized in them, has gone by the board in the sameway. Modern science has scuttled the ships which carried them. Thematerial desires of each individual, left to the judgment of theindividual intellect, are apt to be treated with a certain amount ofindulgence--even when the intellect has received the full benefit ofmodern scientific enlightenment. Unmorality, lack of restraint, lack offaith and aspiration, self-indulgence and pleasure seeking in all itsforms--this is the natural and inevitable consequence of the kind ofprogress which modern science is accomplishing, in connection with theconduct of the individual. 

Is not this a perfectly plausible explanation for the condition ofaffairs which the English author describes so concisely, withoutapparently comprehending?

"We are a nation without standards, kept in health rather by memorieswhich are fading than by examples which are compelling. .. . We havebecome a mob breaking impatiently loose from the discipline and idealsof our past. .. . Everything is sensual and ostentatious. "

In our own country, among people of my class and kind, I may add thetestimony of first-hand information, that a large proportion of them, at the present time, have come to regard passing pleasure and acts ofimmediate self-interest as the chief object and motive of their lives. It is the pleasure of eating and drinking which concerns them and notthe needs of hunger or thirst; the appeal of sex solely as a source ofpleasure, far removed from any thought or aspiration to create new lifeand care for it; the pursuit of money for the pleasure of gain, and thepleasure of out-witting others, and the gratification of vanities andluxuries, far removed from essential needs; meaningless distractions andentertainments, which tickle the wit and nerves of the material senses, but by which neither the heart feelings, nor the soul feelings, nor eventhe deeper esthetic feelings, are stirred or stimulated; jazz music, bright colors, lively movement, jokes and snappy ideas, seasonedpreferably with spice and sex--this is the state, apparently, to whichmodern methods and the rule of reason have led them. 

To judge from observation and various information, which is only tooavailable, this tendency is steadily increasing; while, to judge it bythe light of the underlying causes which we have attempted to trace andmake plain, there is logical reason to expect that it will keep onincreasing. 

What, then, of the future? Is our civilization, like that of the RomanEmpire, destined to decline and decay? If the present condition isindeed an effect of modern science, either directly or indirectly, howcan it fail to continue? Modern science and the enlightened intellectwere never in fuller ascendency than they are at the present moment. They are the proudest boast of our time. The very people who arelamenting the demoralization in our standards of living, are at the sametime applauding the triumphant march of science. Could they ever beconvinced that there is any connection between the two--that thedownfall which they deplore was brought about by the rise which theyapplaud?

Self-determination, as a modern principle of enlightened reason, wasestablished and expounded by no less an authority than thescientifically educated intellect of our distinguished ex-president--inits application to the smaller and weaker peoples of the earth, as wellas to the large and strong. If self-determination is the proper thingfor each nation, should it not be an equally proper thing for eachindividual? And, as it is hoped and assumed that in this advanced ageeach nation will be guided by the rule of reason, why may the sameassumption not be applied to the individual?

If all the nations in the world were to follow the lead of Russia andrespond to motives not approved by the intellect of our ex-president, hemight conclude that a large proportion of the world's population wasstill unreasonable, without being convinced of the unsoundness of aprinciple which was, and would remain, in his mind the correct answer ofenlightened reason. 

If the rule of the majority, in any thickly populated community, wasfound to result in the election of demagogues and grafters andunscrupulous politicians, who are clever enough to take advantage of theprivate selfishness and prejudices and indifference of the individual;and if you considered it a reasonable and enlightened principle thatevery citizen should have equal rights and the majority rule, theunfortunate results might lead you to have a very poor opinion of themajority and resentment for the corrupt politicians, without convincingyou of the unsoundness of the enlightened principle. 

If the system of compulsory education--of enforced attendance at thehigh school--of all manner of children from the humbler walks of lifewere found to result in filling their simple heads with extravagantnotions and worldly ambitions for which nature did not intend them, which breed discontent with the kind of work for which they are suited, which separate them from their parents and their congenial inheritance, and impel them in mistaken paths to learn bitterness and revolt--if thiswere found to be the tendency in a large percentage of cases; and ifyour reason considered that all individuals are entitled to equalopportunity, and that the education of the masses is an enlightenedmodern principle, the tangible results, however unfortunate they mightappear, would not convince you of the unsoundness of the principle. 

As a matter of fact, very few people may be convinced of anything whichis contrary to their liking, or in opposition to their preconceivednotions. An open mind may be helped to form an opinion, and people maybe confirmed and enlightened by ideas which are congenial to their wayof thinking, but that is as much as may reasonably be expected. 

This phase of the subject has not been my concern. I am merely trying tofind expression for what seems to me the truth, as I feel it and see it. 

And the truth is, obviously, that the aim and effort of modern sciencehas been to build up rather than to tear down. It has been striving, with all the means at its command, to discover the true facts and thetrue principles with regard to all things and to utilize them for thebenefit of mankind. 

It may be its attention has been chiefly occupied with the materialthings of life, and the material principles which apply to them, butmodern progress, in many ways is a splendid thing. As applied to thelife of the individual, it is a splendid thing to improve the health andstrength and condition of the human body. And as for the intellect, anything that science has done or could do to develop it to the highestdegree, must be regarded as a step in the right direction. The body andthe mind are essential parts of a human being and, as we have hadoccasion to observe, it is a fundamental aspiration of man to make themalways better. 

If science, in investigating the true facts of existence, has been ledto conclude that many old-time traditions and beliefs were largelycomposed of imagination and ignorance, and the indirect results of sucha conclusion have proved unsettling and disconcerting, should blame beattached to any effort which seeks only the truth?

The present condition, however unfortunate it may appear to us who areexperiencing it, may be no more than a passing phase of development. Thedawn of better days and finer standards, may lie just ahead of us, andwhen they come, it may be found that the enlightenment of the intellectby modern science was a necessary step in preparation for them. 

I, for one, am by no means without hope. Upon what grounds that hope isfounded remains to be considered carefully. 

VII

HOPE

If we admit, or assume, that the ideals and moral standards of ourcivilization are on the decline--that materialism, selfishness, pleasure-seeking and dissipation of various kinds, are tending tosupplant the finer feelings; and that this movement has been gainingground rapidly in recent years--the question that naturally arises is:Where will it lead to? Who, or what, is going to stop it?

A distinguished gentleman has lately been delivering a lecture invarious nearby cities on "The Break-down of Civilization, " and from thebrief reports I have seen of it, he is thoroughly convinced that thingsare going from bad to worse. I quoted a while ago from an Englishauthor, whose summing up is to the same effect. Newspaper editorials andmagazine articles and the private conversation of various people, areconstantly expressing similar views, and I have just come upon theexpressed opinion of the eminent writer and thinker, H. G. Wells, thatunless something is done very soon, civilization is facing "the greatestwreckage yet known in world history. "

As the present "demoralization" was well under way before the World Warbegan, that may be referred to, at most, as an accelerating influence, but not as the underlying cause. It is more intelligent, and more to thepoint, to recognize frankly that among a large and increasing proportionof our people there has been a crumbling away of religious belief. As aresult of that, the fundamental feelings of the soul--faith, conscience, aspiration--are being neglected and starved. 

So much ought to be fairly obvious to any one who is willing to observeand enquire. 

When we go one step deeper and look for the cause why religious beliefhas been crumbling down, there is more room for confusion of ideas anddifferences of opinion. Many people blame the churches and the ministersand the lack of proper training of the children by their parents. Othersblame the automobile and sports and recreations which are being indulgedin on Sunday, through the laxity and insufficiency of the law-makers. Still others attribute it largely to the pernicious influence of thealien population. Finally, there are some who blame the vain, selfishspirit of the age, without bothering their heads to decide where thatcame from (except to infer a general relationship to the devil. )

These opinions are opposed by those who regard the decline of religionas a source of satisfaction. In their eyes, it is an antiquated, narrow-minded influence which has been allowed to interfere too longwith modern progress. The cause of its decline, as they see it, is aperfectly natural one--due to the fact that it has long since out-livedits usefulness, and in the present stage of civilization, people aremuch better off without it. They want Sunday to be, not a holy day, buta holiday, unhampered by Blue Laws or religious cant of any kind. 

As for the so-called demoralization of the present day, this latterclass are inclined to laugh at the croakers who look at things that way. Conventions and styles are always changing and the modern ones are morepractical and sensible than the old ones. New ways of doing things havealways appeared more or less shocking, until people got used to them. That is the law of progress. The present age is an age of progress andon the whole the world is more progressive and more enlightened than ithas ever been before. 

These are the two prevailing currents of opinion, clashing against eachother, losing patience with each other, and attempting to get the bestof each other by means of agitation and organization, movements andanti-movements, of one kind and another, including legislativeenactments. 

It is fairly safe to assume that no effort of the religious sects canstay the march of the modern movement. It is possible to conceive that, through the forces of reaction, certain Blue Laws may be passed againand that in certain communities the religious observance of Sunday maybe made obligatory. Such things, at most, would be only of superficialconsequence. They cannot stop the spread of scientific enlightenment. And scientific enlightenment cannot be made to believe in tenets whichare contrary to facts and conclusions, as it has been able todemonstrate them. 

On the other hand, it seems equally safe to assume that modern scienceand the rule of reason, if left to themselves, cannot be expected tonourish and encourage spiritual feelings. Their tendency, as has beenquite plainly indicated, is in the opposite direction--to leave them outin the cold. 

Another conclusion, which is beginning to dawn on many people--eventhose scientifically enlightened--and which is likely to be more andmore generally recognized, is that the life of man without theinspiration of a faith of some sort, and the other inner feelings whichattach to it, rapidly tends to materialism, selfishness, demoralization, corruption and decay. 

That, in brief, is the situation which confronts us all collectively, and upon the solution of which the future of our civilization, to alarge extent, undoubtedly depends. 

Suggestions of one kind or another, tending toward an alleged solution, will presumably keep making their appearance at intervals and aperfectly reasonable question is whether a sufficiently inspiring andsufficiently compelling solution will emerge in time to prevent thethreatened chaos. 

For the moment, let us be content to defer consideration of the possiblesolutions and turn our attention to the predicament which, in themeantime, confronts the average individual. 

Let us suppose that such an individual, whatever may be the status ofhis religious belief, or unbelief, becomes convinced in his own mindthat the selfishness and immorality and lack of sentiment, which seem tobe spreading in all classes, is a bad thing. Suppose he is willing toadmit, after due consideration, that our diagnosis and explanation ofwhat is taking place is relatively correct. As most minds of the presentday have a practical turn, the thing which interests him most, the thinghe asks at once and really wants to know is what you have to propose asa remedy. How are you going to make people less selfish and moreconsiderate of others? Less mercenary and more honorable? Less immoral, or unmoral, and more virtuous?

That is the main thing which counts, from a practical, personalpoint-of-view: "How am I to benefit by your conclusions and how are yougoing to make others benefit by them? Unless you have something tangibleand useful to offer, your observations, though curious and instructive, are not of much account. "

Let us try, therefore, to reply, in this same spirit, and hazard somesuggestions which may prove helpful to those who want help. 

In the first place, let us call attention to the fact that after anindividual has reached maturity, and his character and habits areformed, it is extremely difficult to change them to any great extent. The motives and point-of-view which determine most of his acts havebecome, so to speak, a part of his second nature. This second nature issomething of slow growth and development. That is the obvious meaning ofthe old adage--"As the twig is bent, the tree's inclined. " To change theinclination of a full-grown tree, requires a great deal ofdetermination. 

In the case of human character, it may occasionally be done, through agreat inspiration of the heart, or the soul. For a deep, ennobling love, or a new-born, exalted faith, the spirit and will are capable of almostany transformation. But usually good intentions, whose origin isconfined to the reason and which are at variance with an establishedinclination, don't persist very long. 

The natural inference and expectation should be therefore, that mostpeople of mature years, however much they might approve of otherpeople's mending their ways, or even of mending their own, will be foundto limit their effort principally to talk. 

In the absence of a great inspiration, the chief influence which keepsacting on them is the example and standards of their associates--theprevailing style and custom. Most people are very susceptible tothis--women especially. For the sake of being in the fashion--or for thesake of not being considered out-of-date--many a nice woman may be ledto do things which her instincts tell her are not nice at all. 

To a slightly less degree, the same thing may be said of men. 

But as the people who set new styles and establish new customs, in aselfish, materialistic age, are not apt to be guided by any greatreverence for the finer traditional feelings, there is little help tobe looked for, from this kind of influence. The immediate tendency isall in the opposite direction. A woman's own reason might tell her thatit is more becoming to pencil her eye-brows and paint her lips and faceand yet, if left to herself, an inherited instinct might keep her fromdoing so. But as soon as she finds that has become the fashion, shehesitates no longer. Women of innate modesty are to be seen, exposingtheir legs and bodies in public, drinking, smoking, gambling and dancingin a sensual manner with sensual men--things which they would revolt atdoing, if it were not for the style. It matters not that the people whoset the style were devoid of modesty and prompted solely by materialconsiderations of self-indulgence and immorality. 

Under such conditions, how can people who are headed in this directionbe prevailed upon by any amount of advice, however well-founded andhelpful it might be? They may feel that they would like to see othersdoing differently, but until that takes place, their brains will notgive them sufficient inspiration, or sufficient determination, to make alone fight. 

There may be exceptions, of course, and in time these exceptions maybecome fairly numerous; but as long as the main issue lies between areturn to old-fashioned religious beliefs on the one hand, and thedictates of enlightened self-interest on the other, individuals who canhave no real enthusiasm for either, will be left to mark time or drift, more or less reluctantly, with the current. 

This is what may be reasonably expected to happen for some time to come, unless a great and fateful thing comes to pass, which will alter theentire course of modern civilization. As this great and fateful thing ispurely a matter of conjecture, and may have no bearing on the conduct ofpeople now living, we will defer the discussion of it until after wehave finished with more immediate and practical considerations. 

There appears to be one way, at least, in which a clear understanding ofthe moral situation may result in practical benefit. The little childrenof the present day may still be bent and guided, their second naturesmay yet be helped to grow and their characters to form, in any desireddirection. If we feel it is too late to bother over much about trying tochange ourselves, or the people about us, that feeling does not apply toour children. 

That is a hopeful and helpful thought, and thoroughly practical. If allthe mothers and fathers of the present generation wanted their childrento be better and finer than the demoralized people so much in evidence;and if they set about it in the right way, all might yet be well forthe future. And as a matter of fact, nearly all parents do want theirchildren to be better and finer. All that they ask is to be shown theright way and they are ready, or think they are ready, to follow it. This is not only a question of good intentions, prompted by reason, --italso involves, as we have seen, the most fundamental feelings of theheart and soul. 

It is a wonderful and beautiful thing--the depth and strength of thisfeeling of parental love, especially the mother's. Nothing seems able tokill it, or corrupt it, in the vast majority of cases. The exceptionsare infinitesimal. Even in those communities, and classes, andindividuals where materialism and self-indulgence have become mostpronounced, it is extremely rare to find a mother who does not love herchild; who does not hope and strive, in accordance with her lights, forits welfare; who is not willing, if occasion demands, to make a realsacrifice for its sake. 

Many mothers have not over-much deep feeling of any other kind; manymothers have little understanding of the problems of life which confrontthemselves, let alone those which confront their husbands, or theirchildren; very few mothers have more than a confused idea of theinfluences at work in forming character, in developing ideals andgenerous impulses, on the one hand; or self-interest, self-indulgence, and the rule of reason, on the other. 

Hardly anything could be of more help to the future of our race than aclear and settled realization on the part of every mother of one simpletruth, which so many of our observations, in the preceding pages, havetended to bring out. The body of your child and the brain of your childare beautiful things, worthy of careful attention; but they are notnearly so beautiful, or so deeply significant, as the heart of yourchild, or the soul of your child. A strong and healthy body and a highlyeducated intellect do not make a fine character; they may belong, justas well, to a mean and selfish man, or an immoral woman, --a crook, or aprofligate. A warm heart and a sensitive, dominant soul, do make a finecharacter, and they cannot possibly result in meanness and immorality. Those sides of your child's nature are entitled to the most loving care, the most constant attention, it is humanely possible to give them. 

In the average family of to-day, how much thought, or time, is devotedto the observance of this essential principle? How many mothers areconsistently striving to watch over every tender requirement of theheart feelings and soul feelings of their children?

The bodies are well enough cared for, as a matter of course. The modernrules of hygiene and the advice of doctors may be relied on for that. The same thing is true as regards the education of the intellect. Kindergartens, primaries, high schools, boarding schools, colleges, --relieve parents of all anxiety on that score. These two sidesof a growing life, the physical and the mental, are so well taken careof, more or less impersonally, by the modern scientific system, thateven if the mother neglects them entirely, they still receive adequateattention. 

Is this equally true of the heart and the soul, the development ofcharacter, so vitally important in the life and worth of every humanbeing? If, in spite of her love for her child, these considerations areneglected by the mother, through lack of understanding, or the demandsof her own self-interest, is the remedy for this neglect also to befound in the modern system? Unfortunately not. And right there is thesource of a great measure of the present demoralization. If the truth ofthis could only be brought home to every mother, would not many a lovingmother, for the sake of her child, be willing to sacrifice some of herown selfishness? If not, then indeed there is little hope left for thefuture of our civilization. But the beauty and wonder and endurance ofthat God-given mother's love, in all ages and in all climes, ought toconvince us that the only difficulty lies in clearing away from the headof the up-to-date woman the confusion of ideas, the materialistictheories of sexless intellects, and the force of pernicious example, which have been brought to bear on her self-interest, and obscured, forthe time being, her intuitive and eternally right understanding. 

VIII

HEART AND SOUL

As the heart of a child naturally begins developing before the soulfeelings, let us talk about that first. And when we speak about the"heart, " it is, of course, understood that we are not referring to thephysical organ which pumps blood, but to that part of human nature whichresponds to affection and sympathy. 

The heart of a child--what a mysterious, wonderful, sensitive, beautifulthing it is! How much it gives and how much it is capable of receiving!And the one thing it wants most--the one it craves and hungers for, asan essential of its nourishment and growth--is love, tender, devoted, unfailing love. From the earliest babyhood, straight on to the years ofmaturity, and still on, that is the greatest need of the human heart forits full and happy growth. 

In early childhood, where is it to get that tender, devoted love, if notfrom its mother? Will it get it from a well-paid nurse or governess, whether Swede or Irish, French or English? In the vast majority ofcases, the nurse or governess hasn't it to give. Love is something whichcan't be bought with money. Many a governess is a discontented person, who thinks she is worthy of better things. Many a nurse is thick-skinnedand bad-tempered. A large proportion of both have much more tenderfeeling for their wages and their selfish interests, than they have forthe child entrusted to their care. Should anything different beexpected? It is not their child. In a few months, or a few years, itwill pass out entirely from their existence. 

Plenty of people can be hired to take care of your child's body and itsphysical needs--nurses, governesses, doctors; plenty of people can lookafter the education of its intellect; nurses, teachers, tutors, professors--but no one can be employed to take your place in feeding itdevoted love, because that love is God-given and God has not given it tothe others, but has given it to you. 

The mother who turns over the heart life of her child to the keeping ofa paid employee is guilty of a vital neglect. If later on, it shouldhappen that the child proves lacking in affection, sympathy, consideration for others, and fails to fulfill the mother's fondaspirations, in that respect, she has herself to blame, first of all. 

If this simple truth could be brought home to every modern mother, itmight prove very helpful to the next generation. 

It is not difficult to suggest how the affections find nourishment anddevelopment. And remember we are not yet considering the moral feelings, but only the heart. 

Love begets love; love is largely mutual; love thrives on thecompanionship of the loved ones. 

The tenderness, sympathy, devotion of a mother, very surely and quicklyopen out the heart feelings of her child and meet with warm response. The more constant the companionship, the more constant the outpouring ofaffection on both sides, the more that side of the child nature grows. 

And the more it grows, --with mother watching over it, helping andguiding, setting the example--the more it has to give to other peopleand things. It will love a doll, a kitten, a puppy dog, and show themthe same sort of tender attention that it receives from mother. It willfeel sorry for a poor little bird with a broken wing; it will feel sorryfor father, when he comes home tired with a headache; it will put itsarms about father's neck and want to kiss the headache away. 

As it grows older, it should be allowed to feel, and made to feel, thatmother's love and father's love will never desert it--that that love maybe counted on, as a mainstay of life, through thick and thin, fairweather and foul, to the very end. This should not be left as a matterof uncertainty, or wonder, or doubt. No mother should ever say to achild, or allow it to imagine, that if it should be naughty or bad, ordo this, that or the other, mother would cease to love it, or fatherwould cease to love it. Such an idea is poisonous to the true feelingand conception of love, which should be cherished in every child byevery mother. Mother should take pains to make the child feel, --and sheshould take pains to make father do so, too, --that no matter what itdoes, their love for it will never weaken or waver. It is not enough toassume that this will be taken for granted--it should be confided to thechild, at opportune moments, as the most sacred of secrets, the holiestof promises. And no time is more opportune for the telling of it--notime means more or counts more--than one of those moments when the childhas done wrong and is troubled in its conscience, and feels ashamed andforsaken. That is a splendid occasion, for a mother's love and afather's love to prove themselves, by making doubly plain that althoughthey, too, may feel ashamed, the strength and warmth of their love isundiminished. 

With nourishment and care of this kind the heart nature of a child isalmost sure to grow and thrive. Its love will feel the influence of thebig love it receives and want to respond in kind. In due time, it maysay to itself, and confide as a holy secret to mother, that its feelingfor her and father will never change, either, no matter what happens, tothe end of time. 

As regards consideration for others, with the constant help and guidanceand example of a devoted mother, this can be made to grow and thrive, too, until it becomes a beautiful and sensitive part of second nature. 

With such feelings nourished and cherished in this way, there is groundfor hope that one of a parent's sweetest and most fundamentalaspirations, in regard to the off-spring, will not be disappointed. Theheart will be in the right place. 

Now, on the other hand, it is only too easy to see what may happen andwhat does frequently happen, if this sacred responsibility of a motheris neglected. 

Suppose the child is left, for the greater part of the time, day in andday out, to the companionship and care of a hired substitute, a nurse orgoverness? In the first place, the substitute is very apt to have nolove at all, or what little it has, may be a very thin and shoddyvariety. Frequently a nurse is unsympathetic, irritable, and selfish. That does not provide either good nourishment, or good example, for thetender heart feelings. 

When a child does wrong, the nurse scolds it and displays an ill-feelingwhich is the very contrary of tenderness and affection. That is badenough, but it is not half so bad as the fact that this same repellenttreatment is very often accorded a child when it has not done wrong atall, but has merely obeyed some spontaneous and beautiful impulse of itslittle nature, which an irritable nurse does not bother to understand. The way that a nurse wishes a child to go is not usually prompted by anyloving consideration for the heart feelings of the child, but a veryselfish consideration for the convenience and prejudices of the nurse. 

I have known many cases where the sensitive feelings of a little boy orgirl have been turned to violent dislike by a nurse, or a governess. Fordays and weeks and months they have been obliged to live in the constantcompanionship and under the constant influence of an antipathy whichsours and freezes their affections. I have known cases where a nurse, inorder to achieve her own ends and relieve herself of trouble, has told achild to lie quietly in bed, when the light goes out, or a big andhorrible bugaboo will creep out of the darkness and spring upon it. Insuch cases, the nurse takes good care to keep the child from giving ahint of this to mother or father, under pain of equally terrifyingconsequences. I have friends to-day, grown up men and women, who cannotgo into a dark room, anywhere, without a shiver and shudder of namelessdread, which began with that same black bugaboo. 

I have known countless cases, where a nurse has said to a child, who hasdone something wrong or annoying: "I don't love you any more. I don'tlike you now at all. " And I have known countless cases where mothers, themselves, have said and acted the same thing. And the effect of thatis to belittle and corrupt in the child's heart a bigger and deeperconception of love, as a loyal and steadfast thing, with no stringattached to it. If a nurse, or a mother, can withdraw her love, for aslight cause, then a child when it grows up can expect to do the same; awife can withdraw her love from her husband, if he does something todisplease her; a husband from his wife; a son and a daughter from theirparents; a sister from her brother. How sad that seems, at first, andhow it hurts! But little by little, as one sees and learns, and as thetwig is bent--do not many up-to-date young people adapt themselves verycomfortably to that belittled conception of love? Do not the divorcecourts and remarriages and scattered children and the talk and acts ofemancipated women give ample evidence of it?

How glibly a certain kind of woman talks about sons and daughterslacking affection, and being so selfish, and so inconsiderate of others!How many of those women have taken the trouble to consider whether theheart feelings of those sons and daughters were nourished and cherishedand guided, by the devotion of a loving mother?

This is a woefully inadequate sketch of one of the most importantelements of life, one of the most vital factors in the formation ofhuman character, about which volumes might be written. It may be enough, however, to suggest reflection and a better understanding on the part ofsome mothers, well-intentioned, but confused by progressive theories, who are really in need of help. 

We may now move on to the moral and spiritual feelings. 

The most casual observer has no difficulty in noting the fact that mostchildren to-day are lacking in discipline, obedience, respect, consideration for others, and many other qualities, which have beenregarded as essential to a well-bred person. There has been no end oftalk about it lately, as we know. 

As far as I have been able to learn, there is a fairly generalconsensus of opinion that this is due to a lack of the proper kind ofearly training in the home. As often as this question has come up in mypresence, it has always been answered readily and confidently to thissame effect, and the answer has met with unanimous approval of men andwomen alike. 

But I have never heard one single woman attempt to explain how it isthat, with all the emancipation, and higher education, and scientificenlightenment, which has been placed at her disposal, modern mothersshould fail to give their children a better training than ever, insteadof a worse. Is it good for the children? No, of course not, they admit. Don't modern mothers love their children? How absurd! Every mother lovesher children--more than a man can understand. Then why is it modernchildren don't receive proper training by their modern mothers? Oh, well, a good many women, nowadays, have so many other things to do, theyhaven't the time. Are these other things more important than the welfareof their children? Not that--nothing could be more important. Then, why--?

If anybody gets that far with the average modern woman, he has done verywell. She usually shrugs her shoulders, tells you not to be silly andparries with some feeling remarks about husbands and fathers. What dothey do? And how do they do it? And who's really to blame?

If you ask a modern man the same question, and no women are present, hemay express himself confidentially, that most women, nowadays, are sofed up on civic committees, or recreation centers--bridge parties orpink teas--uplift movements or school boards--golf, tennis, automobiling--that they don't know what's going on in their own homes. They have advanced ideas about everything--principally themselves. Whenit comes to the children, their advanced ideas result, pretty much, inletting them get along without any home training at all. 

The women, when left to themselves, usually have little trouble inconvincing themselves that if men had the proper kind of love for theirwives and showed them the consideration and devotion which everyfeminine heart craves and is entitled to, there would be no trouble atall about the home. Every true woman would be found to respondmagnificently. In nearly every case, the fault begins with the man--inhis neglect and selfishness--and then man-fashion, he turns around andtries to lay it at the door of the woman. And so forth and so on. 

But again, no one attempts to suggest, or explain, why it is that themodern husband, who is better educated and more enlightened thanhusbands ever were before, should be behaving so badly. It is enough toagree and expatiate on the fact, without countless examples, that thatis how it is. 

And the average mother, to-day, will be found expressing the ferventhope that her son will not grow up to be as self-centered and neglectfulof his wife, as most husbands are. 

The effect of such talk, naturally, is to becloud the point at issue andconfuse the mind. The point is that even in the minds of the women, theunseemly behavior of young people of both sexes is due to a lack ofproper training in childhood. No enlightened woman believes, or claims, that two wrongs make a right. She does not believe that a man could, orshould, take the place of a mother in dealing with children. She doesnot believe that he should become soft and effeminate, for the tendertraining of infants, but on the contrary, should be energetic and manly, for the battle of success. 

As far as the children are concerned, she cannot but admit that theimmediate responsibility has nowhere else to rest but in her. If shechooses to pass it over to a nurse or governess, that is her affair. Itis for her to engage or discharge the nurse and governess as she seesfit. And it is rare indeed to find a mother anywhere who would think ofallowing any interference with what she considers her fundamental right. 

If she neglects her responsibility, or fails in it, and the results aremore or less disastrous, it is a very feminine excuse, to argue that shehas a selfish and inconsiderate husband. The care of the children washer affair, not his; both herself and nature agree upon insisting thatthis should be so. 

In this connection, therefore, it is to the mothers, principally, thatwe should address ourselves. At some other time, we may, if we choose, enter upon a discussion of that complex and much confused question ofhusband and wife in their relation to each other. 

Under present-day conditions, curiously enough, the first thing it seemsnecessary to ask a mother is this:

Did you ever stop to reflect upon the tremendous and wonderfulimportance which may attach to the bringing up of one single child? Evenif your heart feelings are rather anemic and your soul-feelings havebecome so muddled and confused by practical considerations that you nolonger get any real message or inspiration from those two divinesources, yet you still have left a modern and enlightened brain. Eventhat is enough to make you almost dizzy at the thought of this thing, if you will pause long enough to give it careful attention. 

A modern battleship, or an airplane, or an automobile, is a vastlycomplicated and efficient piece of machinery. If you, yourself, left toyour own resources, had the ability to turn out a complete battleship ofthe most improved design, you would doubtless consider that you hadachieved something to be immensely proud of. But the greatest battleshipon earth is not one-hundredth part as complicated and efficient a pieceof machinery as your little son. And one of a dozen different facultieswith which your son is equipped--the power of memory, for instance--isinfinitely more intricate and more wonderful than anything andeverything about a battleship put together. 

You might have an ambition to paint a beautiful picture, or composebeautiful music, or write beautiful poetry, or do something else withyour life which you deem to be useful or beneficial to your fellow men. But by cherishing such ambitions in your son and transmitting to him allthat is best in your own self, this same result may be obtained for theuse and benefit of your fellow men. And in addition to that, you willhave given to the world a wonderful human being, who may be able toachieve many bigger and better things than you could hope to do. Morethan that, your son may be able to transmit the ambitions and feelingswhich you have given him, to his children and their children, until yourone achievement in making a splendid son, may expand and multiply into awonderful lot of men and women, each and every one of whom may achievemore useful and beautiful things for the benefit of mankind than youcould hope to do. All this may readily come about, if you apply yourselfunsparingly to the unique and glorious task of making your son the rightkind of man. 

This is only one part of the wonder. If you are willing to devote yourheart and soul to this one task, another recompense is in store foryou--a multitude of sublime recompenses. Each and every fine andbeautiful thing your son does, as long as you live, will fill you withdeeper gladness, more intense joy, than anything you yourself couldpossibly accomplish, through your own efforts. That is the crowningmiracle of a mother's love and every mother who loves her own with allher heart, knows that it is eternally true. Just to look at your son andfeel that he is fine and right and worthy of all the love you havelavished on him, is to taste an exquisite contentment, to which noother kind of earthly pleasure is comparable. 

And this same feeling of contentment will be waiting to steal into yourheart upon the coming of your son's children--each and every one. Yourmother's love will find a renewal of its glory in your grandchildren. For they, too, have in them the same mysterious spirit of you which youcherished in your son. And so, as you sit back, in old age, in broodingcontentment over the young lives, so full of possibilities, you mayreflect, in the sweetest way imaginable, that it is going onindefinitely, this essence of you and yours, on and on, to the end oftime, fulfilling on earth the unfathomed but divine purpose of theall-wise Creator. 

People whose interest in life is centered in self-indulgence andmaterial pleasure, may regard with dread the approach of old age; butnot so a mother, whose deepest feelings have gone unreservedly to herchildren. To her it will come smiling, with the radiance of that mostbeautiful of all periods--a golden Indian summer. 

Take it all in all--for the reasons we have suggested and manyothers--the bringing up and giving to the world of a fine human being, the endeavor to make that human being as nearly right as possible, isthe most important, the most profoundly significant undertaking thatexists on earth. The all-wise Creator has entrusted that work, in a mostbeautiful and soul-stirring way, to mother love, the deepest andstrongest feeling of which humanity is capable. 

If a mere man will devote the greatest part of his energies, day in andday out, year in and year out, to making pictures, or making stoves, ormaking money, to support the family, --how can a mother be unwilling todevote as much of her energy to this sacred task, which she knows is ofmore vital consequence than any material thing?

Would that some one might be found to carry this message to every motherin the land--some one whose voice is so tender and true and appealing, that it might find its way straight to the core of their hearts andsouls--clearing up the tangle of confused notions which the sexlessreason and self-interest of progressive intellects have been making!

In the meanwhile, we must be content to see things as they are and pinour faith to the belief that, as the baleful effects of the currentmisunderstanding become more and more apparent, the mother love, of itsown accord, will become sufficiently alarmed, to throw aside itslethargy and seek to make amends by devoting itself more consistentlyto the welfare of its own. 

Let us assume, therefore, that a mother of the present day, is deeplyconcerned in the moral and spiritual feelings of her children--that shewants them to have fine sentiments and fine characters--and that she isanxious to do anything within her power to bring this result about. Whatis she to do? What method is she to follow? In this age ofenlightenment, with all sorts of theories in the air, how is she to knowthe proper way of forming a fine character? As a matter of fact, in manycases, it is just because her ideas on this subject have become soconfused, that many a modern mother has been led to side-step theresponsibility and let things drift along in the easiest way, after theexample of those about her. 

One of the first questions that is sure to confront her is the questionof discipline and obedience. On the one hand, is the traditional idea ofthe past--"Spare the rod and spoil the child. " She is familiar with thisand there is nearly always someone near her who advocates itfirmly--very possibly her own husband. On the other hand, she has readand heard and seen a lot which is directly opposed to that. Childrenshould not be controlled by fear, like animals. There is something meanand ugly and revolting in the very idea. It is better to be loved thanfeared--better for the mother and better for the child. 

Between these two contradictory principles, even if she has the bestintentions in the world, what is she to do? Is it to be wondered at, ifmany a modern mother, in this predicament, vacillates between the two?She doesn't like to punish the child and most of the time she avoidsdoing it; but now and then, when things have gone too far, or she istired and irritable, she makes up for it by losing her temper and goingto extremes. And the effect of this kind of treatment on the forming ofa child's character is about as bad as could be. It doesn't producediscipline and it doesn't produce obedience; and it doesn't lead the wayto any moral conception or principle. What it does inculcate in thechild spirit very quickly is a feeling that the attitude of mother islargely a matter of mood, a very uncertain and variable quantity, whichfor the time being has to be put up with. And as the child cares morefor mother, presumably, than anybody else in the world, it is no morethan natural for it to apply this same point-of-view to other peoplewith whom it comes into contact. There may be a certain amount ofprecocious wisdom in this, but it does not help the growth of moralfeeling. And so it happens, in many cases, that at the very start, thetwig is given a bend in the wrong direction. 

No mother really wants to spoil her child. She may say, with a lovingand enigmatical smile, that she prefers to "spoil" it; but that is onlyher way of saying that she knows better than some stern and misguidedpeople what is best for its tender wants. If she thought for a momentshe was really spoiling the child's character, she would stop smiling atonce and become very much exercised. 

As we have started with this question of discipline, let us not leave ituntil we have followed it out to the full limit of our reflections. 

If the choice necessarily resolved itself into one or the other of thesetwo principles--strict obedience, rigidly enforced by punishment; or avacillating policy of petting and scolding, leading to moralconfusion--there could be little hesitation in deciding which would beapt to give better results in the formation of character. The old way, if somewhat crude and summary, has proved itself capable of producingdiscipline and respect for authority, a womanly woman and a manly man. The other way has not given much evidence of producing anything nearlyso worthy or admirable. 

But, as a matter of fact, the choice need not be, and should not be, limited to these two principles at all. There is another method ofarriving at the formation of character which is essentially differentfrom either. 

The chief fault of the old method of giving the child a whipping, if itdisobeys, is by no means confined to a lessening of a child's love forthe mother, who whips it. This is one consideration which is given greatweight by many women, at present. It would in itself be a real hurt tothe mother and a real hurt to the child. But there are otherconsiderations. Sometimes the whipping may not be deserved--it may beoccasioned by a loss of temper, or a misunderstanding--and in such casesit is apt to leave a feeling of resentment and injustice. This is inaddition to the feeling of fear, which corporal punishment is apt toproduce. Quite irrespective of the harm to love, it introduces a falsemotive into the formation of character. The little sprouts of consciencemay be overshadowed by this weed of fear. The fear of a whip, in a handwhich may be strong but not necessarily just, very naturally brings intoplay the instinct of self-defence, to prompt and justify all manner ofconcealment, deception, cunning, lying. Those are a lot more weedswhich may in time crowd out the more delicate soul feelings. 

Discipline, bought at such a price, is paid for very dearly. In my ownpersonal experience as boy and man, the most hypocritical, mean-spiritedtreacherous characters I have come into contact with, were among thosewho had been most disciplined by unsympathetic and unrelenting parents. 

This is not to say, or imply, that corporal punishment, or sterntreatment, necessarily leads to such unfortunate results. It is merelyto indicate some of the possible dangers and drawbacks. With sturdy, primitive natures, an occasional beating is a matter of little moment;while for unthinking, commonplace minds, and undeveloped, unsensitivesouls, the habit of obedience and docile respect for authority, in anyand all forms, may be an excellent thing. A wolf cannot be trained inthe same way as a setter dog, or a canary bird; and even among horses, the kind of treatment that a cart-horse thrives under, would ruin athoroughbred completely. 

The traditional methods of handling children date back to a time whenthere were many wolves and cart-horses and no method would havegenerally survived which did not include them. 

But in our advanced civilization, as mothers frequently have moresensitive stock to deal with, there is reason for them to feel that, somehow, they should go about it differently. This appears to be apartial explanation of what we see going throughout the length andbreadth of our land. It is for their benefit that a more sympatheticprinciple has been gradually emerging from the confusion. 

And let us note in passing that the altered sentiment on the part ofmothers, and the principle which responds to it, cannot be credited inany way to the achievements of modern science, because a similartendency showed itself sooner and became more pronounced and wide-spreadin communities of China and Japan, where no modern science hadpenetrated. It would seem rather an intuitive growth of delicateunderstanding on the part of parents, as they become relieved from thestrenuous needs of material existence. 

This third principle does not tend to "spoil" the child, or repress itsaffection, or distort any of the finer impulses of its spiritual nature. It does not destroy obedience or discipline; but instead of obedienceand discipline inspired by a whip, it seeks to erect self-obedience, self-discipline and self-control. 

How does it work? First, through love, because in nature that comesfirst; then, little by little, through the unfolding of conscience andfaith. 

We have talked about the heart feelings of a child, so it is onlynecessary to refer to them again, not for the joy they may bring tomothers, but because loyalty, fidelity, consideration for others, growing out of affection, may merge imperceptibly with feelings whichare essentially moral and spiritual, to the immense advantage of both. Let a mother love her child, then, and cherish its love, with all thelavishness, tenderness, constancy of which she is capable. There cannever be too much of it--there can never be enough of it--either for thechild's good, or the mother's. And before the child is really old enoughto think, let it have a radiant, deep-rooted feeling that mother's loveis a mainstay of life, which will never waver or desert it, under anypossible contingency, and which it, in turn, will never, never desert. And let a mother never trifle with that feeling, or prove fickle to it, at any stage, but treasure it as the holiest of holies, the very essenceof the character she hopes to see formed. 

In the early stages of development, when a child's mind is unable toreason or understand, little habits of second nature are formed. Themoral questions do not come to the fore until the age of reason and thefirst awakening of the spiritual feelings. And they bring with themunavoidably, the problem of obedience and discipline. 

Suppose your son disobeys you, what then? Or suppose he has disobeyedthe nurse, and she comes and tells you? Something has to be done aboutthat, surely. What must you do?

Well, first of all, there is one thing you must be very careful _not_ todo. Don't scold--don't speak harshly--don't look cross--don't get angry. Look at your child with sympathy and understanding, and when he meetsyour eye, with a cunning little look of shame and defiance, smile backat him reassuringly, and hold out your hand to him. Then, after thenurse has had her say, thank her for telling you about it and ask her toleave you, because in the tender confidences between mother and son itis not proper that an outside and possibly antagonistic influence shouldintrude. 

When she has gone, take him on your knee, put your arms about him andhug him tight. Don't let him forget for an instant that he is your veryown and you are his very own mother. Whatever may be going to come ofit, keep that point clear--that you are his partner and help-mate and heis never going to be left out in the cold. Nothing will help more towarda fair-minded understanding of the situation. Ask him to tell you allabout it, just how and why it all happened and help him with yoursympathy and patience to express himself fully. 

Let us imagine that this is what has occurred:

When he was out walking, he saw a dead bird lying under the bushes onthe other side of a ditch. The nurse, Delia, told him not to, but he didclimb across the ditch and picked it up. It was an awfully pretty birdand he just wanted to look at it. When she told him to throw it away, hewouldn't come back. Then she caught him and shook his arm and hecouldn't help it--he just got angry. He threw the bird at her and calledher "an ugly old crow. "

When mother has heard it all, she can start in very gently to answer andexplain. And it won't hurt a bit to begin by letting him see that sheunderstands perfectly just how he felt. She remembers a dead bird shefound once, when she was little. But, on the other hand, Delia was onlydoing what she thought was best. There might have been nasty worms onthe bird. 

But that, after all, is not the main thing. The main thing is, that ifhe is to be trusted to go out walking with his nurse, he must be willingto do as she says, no matter how unreasonable it may seem. Otherwisemother would be worrying all the time--and something dreadful mighthappen--he might get lost, or run over. He doesn't have to go outwalking with Delia, if he doesn't want to; that is for him to decide. But if he does decide to go, it must be on the distinct understandingthat he agrees not to disobey her. 

The boy is rightly entitled to his say about this and if he has anyobjections, it is for mother to meet them and dissipate them with herlove and reasons. Nothing should be demanded between mother and sonwhich does not seem just and fair to both. 

One final point remains to be considered. He threw the bird in Delia'sface and called her a name which must have hurt her feelings. 

_Boy:_ "I couldn't help it. I was angry. "

_Mother:_ "I understand that perfectly. But all the same, it was ratherhard on Delia, especially when she was only trying to do what shethought was right. "

_Boy:_ "Sometimes, I've got an awful temper. "

_Mother:_ "I don't mind that a bit. I'm glad of it. It's only becauseyou have such strong feelings. "

_Boy:_ "Have you got a temper, too?"

_Mother (smiling and nodding):_ "Of course I have--as bad as yours--orworse. "

_Boy (delighted):_ "Really?"

_Mother:_ "But it's something we all have to learn to control. Becauseif we can't control it, it's sure to make us do things that we'reashamed of afterwards--things that are unkind and unfair to others. Aren't you just a little bit ashamed of what you did to Delia?"

_Boy (meeting her eye with smile of enquiry--then looking away andthinking, with feeling):_ "No--I'm not!"

_Mother (petting his hand):_ "Well--I suppose you're still thinkingabout the bird--and there's still a little of that old temper left. Butwait awhile and think it over. And--I'm going to tell you something that_I_ think would be awfully nice. Sometime, if you did happen to feellike it and went to Delia of your own accord and explained to her howyou lost your temper and were sorry for calling her that awfulname----?"

_Boy (looking away, thinking, then turning to her, hesitating andshaking his head):_ "I couldn't mummy, please, --I couldn't--not now----"

_Mother:_ "I'm sure she'd appreciate it, a lot. Poor Delia--she tries sohard and she's so sensitive and she's really so fond of you. Of course, I wouldn't want you to say you were sorry, unless it was really true. It's only a sham and a humbug to make people say things they don't mean. It's entirely a question of how you feel about it, in your own heart. And nobody can decide that for you but yourself. "

After an incident of this sort, how would a mother feel if Delia toldher, the next afternoon, that Master Bob had come to her and apologizedlike a little gentleman--and he'd been so sweet and dear--and he'dkissed her--and it touched her so, it broke her all up and she couldn'thelp crying?

If we take the pains to examine a little every-day example of this sort, it is not difficult to see that it involves some fairly importantfeelings. First of all, it encourages a feeling of faith--faith inmother, in her sympathy and understanding and justice. Thenconsideration for others--self-control--and finally conscience, what theinner nature, of its own accord, feels to be right. All these may be ofvital account in the formation of a fine character, and they may bebrought into play by this sort of treatment just as effectually as by abeating. 

Of course it cannot be assumed, or expected, that the immediate resultin any given case will prove so satisfactory. Sooner or later, withnearly all children, there are sure to come times when gentleexplanations will not suffice. Something more impressive has to beresorted to. 

This final resort was, in fact, faintly indicated in our example--but sofaintly, that it might be overlooked. 

It was carefully explained to the boy that if he would not agree to obeyDelia, when he went out walking with her, then he could not enjoy theprivilege of going out walking with Delia. This is a principle ofpunishment, which may be applied to any and all cases, to almost anydesired degree. 

And it has at least one great advantage over other kinds of punishment. It can be made to avoid all danger of seeming unjust and arousingresentment. 

Let us look into the application of this principle with reference to themore serious problems of misconduct which are liable to arise. 

In general experience, the most serious troubles, or faults, which amother has to contend with, are forgetfulness, temper, selfishness, deception, lying. Her aim is to see them supplanted by a habit ofreflection, self-control, consideration for others, sincerity, truth. She believes and feels that these latter qualities are better for theboy's own welfare, better for the people he loves, better for everybody. She wants her boy to feel this way about it, too. 

Very well, then, the first thing to be sure of is that the boy reallyunderstands the meaning of those things which you expect of him--thewhys and wherefores and the good that is in them. Otherwise--if he isnot sincere about it, if he must do things in which he doesn'tbelieve--there's an element of sham about it which leads quite naturallyto concealment and hypocrisy. 

It is true, he may always be counted on to do a great deal for love, formother's sake, --provided that mother has cared for that love. But thatis a sacred privilege, which should not be abused. It may have theeffect of setting a bad example. If she has the right to ask him to dosomething which he doesn't see the sense of and doesn't feel like doing, why shouldn't he have the same right to ask her to let him do thingswhich she doesn't see the sense of and doesn't feel like letting him do?If that is the way of love, why doesn't it apply to one, as well as theother? This may be very cunning and sweet, upon occasion; but for steadydiet, it does not help the growth of moral feeling. 

It is much better that he should never be required to do things which hecannot understand sufficiently to feel the right of. This all comesabout quite naturally, in the course of companionship. There arecountless opportunities for explaining and questioning, about this, that, or the other. No growing child is slow about asking innumerablequestions and trying his best to understand. Preaching of any kind isn'tnecessary. It seldom, if ever, gets home in the best way. The samething is true of scolding and harsh words. They are not at allnecessary; and they usually do a great deal more harm than good. 

Let us suppose, then, that your son has been guilty of an act ofselfishness--and to make matters worse, through a feeling of shame, hehas first attempted concealment and then resorted to lying. 

That is a rather trying situation for mother to face. It is about ashard a nut as she will ever have to crack. In the old days, there wouldbe no hesitation in saying that the first thing it called for was a goodsound beating. 

But instead of that, let us imagine that mother is brave enough to stickto her love feeling, reassures her boy, smilingly, and holds him close. First she gives him a chance to tell all about it, in his own way, andhelps him along to a confidential admission of the shameful facts. 

And to make the case as extreme as possible, we will assume that therewere no palliating circumstances whatever. The best that the boy can sayfor himself is that he just didn't stop to think--he went ahead and didit--and afterwards, he felt ashamed and didn't want anyone to know--andthen, well, he tried to get out of it by lying. 

_Mother (smiling, thinking):_ "Well, well--here's a pretty kettle offish--isn't it? What in the world are we going to do about it?"

_Boy (looking down, nervous, does not answer). _

_Mother:_ "I suppose there's no use crying over it. The main thing ishow we can find a way to keep it from happening again. Perhaps it wouldhelp, if we could find the right kind of punishment?" (No answer. ) "Whatkind of punishment shall it be--the fairest we can think of? Suppose youdecide it for yourself. What would you suggest?"

_Boy (very nervous):_ "I don't know. "

_Mother:_ "How would it be if, the next time you told a lie, you andmother couldn't, either of you, go riding in the automobile for twodays?"

_Boy (troubled, thinking, giving her a look):_ "Two whole days?"

_Mother (smiling):_ "That's a pretty big punishment but, after all, lying is a pretty bad thing, which we don't want to have happen. Supposewe start with that and agree on it--two whole days?"

_Boy (looking down, thinking, very nervous):_ "If you couldn't goriding, either--why should you be punished?"

_Mother:_ "Because I'm your own mother and I love you better thananything in the world. Whatever you do, can't help affecting me. Besides, you see, in a way, I'm largely responsible for whatever youdo. If I don't bring you up right--isn't it my fault? And if we bothhave to be punished together, that may help you to remember. "

_Boy gives her a glance, looks down, thinking--begins to smile, hesitates. _

_Mother:_ "What are you thinking? Tell me. "

_Boy:_ "You mightn't know anything about it--if it was to the cook, orDelia, or Vincent--or somebody else?"

_Mother:_ "That's true. It's something else for us to think about. If aboy tells a lie to anybody--because he's ashamed or afraid--that's badenough. But afterwards, if he doesn't own up to it like a little man, but tries to conceal it from his mother, or deny it, that is ever somuch worse. It deserves a much bigger punishment. Isn't that right?. .. Isn't it?"

_Boy looks down, showing more nervousness, finally assents. _

_Mother:_ "Very well, then--this is what seems fair to me: If my boytells another lie and doesn't attempt to deny it, afterwards--then thepunishment will be as we agreed--two days, with no automobile for eitherof us. But if, before she hears of it, he comes, of his own accord, andtells mother all about it--that's better, and we'll reduce thepunishment to one day. But if, on the contrary, he tries to conceal itand denies it and tells more lies, that is worst of all--and when it isfound out, as it is very apt to be, sooner or later--then the punishmentwill have to be harder on all of us--and father will have to be includedtoo. "

_Boy (quickly):_ "Father?"

_Mother:_ "If father is going to have that kind of a son, he will haveto know about it and suffer for it, too. He will have to take hispunishment, whether he wants to or not--the same as you and I. "

_Boy:_ "Oh, mummy, please! Does father have to know about that, yet?"

_Mother:_ "Well, you see, dear, father loves us both, very much. We bothbelong to him--we both bear his name--and he works very hard to give useverything he can to make us happy. "

_Boy:_ "But if I don't do it again----?"

_Mother (hugging him):_ "All right! If you really mean to try very hard, perhaps we'll never have to come to that. I'm quite sure I don't wantto, any more than you do. There! it's understood and agreed--and wewon't say another word about it. "

That is a simple example of the principle; but it is enough to suggestthe beginning and end of the whole thing. It can be made elasticenough--gentle or severe enough--to fit almost any or all cases that maybe imagined. 

The punishment is talked over and understood in advance, not in any wayas a chastisement, inflicted by an angry parent, but as a necessary andeminently fair means of impressing upon an unformed character the needof self-control, and the avoidance of an act which he knows is unworthy. 

There are always certain things in every child's life which mean a lotto him--dolls, toys, games, skates, baseball, bicycle, automobile rides, swimming, tennis, golf--or something else--at all ages, up to manhood. 

To be deprived of an important pleasure is a sure way of making him stopand think over the meaning of it. There is only one thing that willbring it home more surely and more deeply, and that is to see the one heloves best deprived of her important pleasures, too, as a result of hismisconduct. If mother cannot go out in the automobile; if mother cannotplay the piano; if mother cannot read to him, or tell him stories; ifmother cannot come to the table for her meals;--the sight of this andthe knowledge that he is the cause of it, will put a terrible tug on theheart-strings and the conscience. And in extreme cases, if father hasto be included in the punishment, and deprived of his pleasures, too, that makes the boy's feeling of guilty responsibility even morepronounced. 

Yet, with it all, there is no chance for a sense of personal resentmentand injustice to obscure the meaning. The unfairness and severity--ifthere be any--applies most to mother and is inflicted by the boy's ownact. And if mother sets the example of accepting it bravely andsmilingly, with no complaint and no scolding, and clings fast to herlove and sympathy, in this trial of love, such experiences may becounted on to prove entirely helpful to the growth of moral feeling andself-discipline. 

And once a punishment has been determined and agreed upon in advance, itshould never be deviated from in the slightest degree. If a child wereallowed to evade it, or modify it, by cajolery or cunning appeal, thatwould tend to destroy the spirit of fairness and faith in mother's word. 

If a child will not respond to this kind of treatment and this kind ofpunishment, it is fairly safe to assume that he would respond even less, as far as the development of character is concerned, to ill-temper, harsh language, and the whip. 

So much for the question of discipline, about which manywell-intentioned mothers of the present day are so perplexed andconfused. In this connection, however, there remains to be made ageneral observation and warning, upon which too much stress can hardlybe laid. 

A certain amount of discipline, in a few important matters which involvemoral feeling, is almost essential to the proper formation of character. On the other hand, constant restraint and excessive discipline, in thenatural exuberance of youthful impulses and activities, is unwise andunfair to human nature. A mother who puts a healthy, normal boy in apretty suit of clothes, and then would talk punishment, because he playsin the mud, or climbs a tree, doesn't deserve to have a healthy, normalboy. His impulse to play in the mud and climb trees is infinitely morevital and admirable than the vanity and sentimentality which attaches tospotless clothes. Sturdy vitality is a splendid foundation for sturdycharacter. Almost any kind of activity which does not endanger his lifeor health is good for him. Lots of love and a little helpful guidance, in essential things, is all that he usually needs--and very, very littlerepression, of any kind--the less the better. 

In a child's nature the faculty of imagination and the force of exampleare important considerations in the development of the spiritualfeelings and the formation of fine ideals. The world of make-believe, of purest fantasy, is just as interesting and just as significant as theevery day actualities of life. It makes not the slightest difference toa little boy, or girl, whether the stories you read them, or the acts ofhero and heroine, are reasonable or not. (And if, in the precedingpages, I have referred to the child as being a boy, that is only forconvenience in writing and not to imply that the observations woulddiffer in the case of a girl. ) The child's imagination is ready andeager to follow you anywhere and the main thing is the exercise of thefeelings occasioned by fictitious events. 

This is one of the earliest ways for the tender soul nature to findnourishment and growth. The more rhymes and jingles it can hear, themore fairy tales, stories of adventure, thrilling deeds of heroism, thebetter it is for the forming traits of character. In nearly all thestories a mother may find to read or tell to her children, there areexamples and side-lights of courage, devotion, honor, loyalty, cheerfulness, patience, and other exhilarating qualities. There is nonecessity of picking and choosing too carefully, or of attempting toconfine the exercise to a certain sort of fiction whose tendency isobviously moral. The biggest part of it is to give the imagination andfeelings plenty of food to grow on, to encourage and stimulate a likingand admiration for things which appeal to the interest through theimagination. Given half a chance, nature can be fairly well trusted tolook after the rest--and in the long run is apt to prove as true a guideas finicky and restricted notions which may be lacking in broadcomprehension. 

One of the loveliest and most helpful occupations any mother can have isto learn to tell stories to her children. Many mothers may findthemselves a little deficient in this ability, at first; but, with theinspiration of love and their holy cause, almost any mother can soonacquire a charming facility in doing it. And the advantage to thechildren, as well as to mother, which may be derived from this method isvery considerable. A story told by mother is easier to understand, moresympathetic, more delightful, less set and cumbersome than nearly anystory which has to be read methodically from the printed pages of abook. A mother is in close touch with the needs and natures of her ownflock--she can embellish and interpret and add her own loving comments, as such and as often as she feels the call for it. 

I have found by experience that so many stories which are supposedlydesigned for children, make use of big and stilted words, complicatedideas, and tedious, long-winded explanations. Mother can read them soquickly by herself and then preserve the pith and point of them in herown manner of recounting. There is practically no limit to the varietyof kinds and subjects which may be interpreted and rendered available inthis way. The story of Ivanhoe, or Quentin Durward, or Lohengrin, may bejust as readily told in this way as Cinderella, or Robin Hood, orAladdin and his Wonderful Lamp. But set any child the task of readingfor itself a great volume of Ivanhoe, or many of the other worldclassics, or of listening to any one who waded through the longdescriptions for hours on end, is hardly to be thought of. 

Fortunately there are a number of books which seem to have been writtenby people who love children and understand them. These a mother cansearch out and select from and make good use of. 

One of the curious things about youth is that children love to hear thesame stories over and over again, even after they know them almost byheart. This is undoubtedly due to the fact that the appeal isprincipally to the feelings and not to the intellect. Intellectualpeople, when once they know the contents of a book, seldom have anyfurther interest in it. But music and painting and poetry do not loseinterest through familiarity, even for mature natures. Their appeal ismore like that which stories have for children. 

Owing to this condition of affairs, a mother need never be at a loss forstories to tell or stories to read. This part of child life should notbe an exceptional occurrence due to her mood or whim, but a constantfeature of the daily life to be counted on and treasured up. The lovelyatmosphere which surrounds it, the moral and spiritual ideals which areengendered by it, combine in making it a precious influence in therearing of a new generation. 

"But, " exclaims the up-to-date woman, of enlightened intellect, "whatkind of old-fashioned, benighted mother are you prating about! This isthe era of woman's rights and woman's emancipation! What time would awoman have for her own affairs--for the exercise of her rights, whichhave been won with so much effort--if she had to keep bothering her headwith that sort of thing?"

That is true. It would seem as if we had forgotten about theself-interest and selfishness of the modern movement, which is there onall sides to poke its tongue at a mother's devotion to her sacred cause. 

Indeed, we have no answer to give to that kind of selfishness. Theessence of our thought is love and faith in the love of motherhood. There is no selfishness in it and the language it uses is nottranslatable into terms which the rule of reason can hope to understand. 

But to those mothers whose hearts are still in the right place, even iftheir heads have become more or less confused by the shouting andexample of intellectual leaders, there is a very simple observation tosuggest, as an answer to such objections. 

Is it of much importance or benefit to you, yourself, or to anybody, orany thing, that you should spend so much of your time in gambling at thebridge table? Or gossiping at an afternoon tea? Or attending a meetingat the woman's club? Or at the hair-dresser's and manicure's? Or inintellectual pursuits of any kind? Is it not more important to you andto your family and to the future of your race and kind, to devote aconsiderable amount of your time and energy to the children, who loveyou and need you and can profit greatly by your help?

Is not that entitled to the best you can give, not only because it isthe most important of all earthly occupations, but because by doing ityou set the blessed example of thinking first and most of others, andlast and least of self?

After the children are tucked in their beds, peaceful and happy in theland of dreams, then it is time enough for you to turn your thoughts topersonal distractions and pleasures, which are proper and wholesome fora human being when the daily work of life is done. Nobody will begrudgeit to you, and you need not begrudge it to yourself. It is whatdistractions are for. It is also what the great majority of husbands andfathers and grandfathers have been doing since the beginning oftime--working to the best of their ability for the good of home andfamily--content with their recreation, after the work is done?

How can any true mother in her heart and soul be so disturbed andmisguided by intellectual enlightenment that she could be led to deserther eternal responsibility for the pursuit of selfishness--or theagitation of _isms_?

It ought to be reasonably clear that if a mother does desert herresponsibility, and leaves to the care of a hired employee thedevelopment of her child's moral and spiritual feelings, the results areliable to be very unsatisfactory. It is the same story over again, whichwe took account of in connection with the heart feelings. Nagging, scolding, lack of sympathy, false standards, superstitions, threats, deceptions, bug-a-boos--are all apt to take a hand in forcing anecessity for discipline and deforming character. The tangles oftemper, fear, deception, resentment, will never be unravelled andpatiently straightened out. In their wake, are pretty sure to come, sooner or later, scenes with mother and father--hypocritical or defiant, cajoling, whining, or tempestuous--in which harsh and ugly words willsometimes play a part. 

And one fine day, the mother will probably vouchsafe the remark, as somany modern mothers have done in my presence, that when certain boys, orgirls, reach a certain age, they get so that it is quite impossible todo anything with them at home and the only sensible way is to ship themoff to a boarding-school. 

How much of a mother's time is required for the right kind of care forher children? Who can judge of each case, but the right kind of mother?Whatever the child has need of, that is for her to watch over and give, to the fullest of her capacity. 

And what of the rôle of a father in this most vital of responsibilities?It is essentially that of a help-mate--to bring cheer and comfort andcourage, and the tenderest of protection and support. "The hand thatrocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world"--so says the oldadage. In any case, it is upon the sanctity and devotion of mother lovethat the future of our race depends--and the deepest feeling of a manlyman has never doubted it. 

There is much, much more that might be said about the relationship of afather to a mother, and of a mother to a father. The right foundationfor it should be the deepest of moral and spiritual feelings. The truesignificance of it cannot help being eternal, not temporary. In nodepartment of life, has the scientific principle of self-interest andthe rule of reason had a more confusing, corrupting, and destructiveinfluence. To attempt to translate the meaning of a marriage into termsof a business partnership is a ghastly mockery. 

This subject is too big and the discussion of it would carry us too farafield, to be undertaken in the present connection. Our attention hasbeen confined, for the time being, to mother love and the formation ofcharacter for the next generation. 

And the next question which confronts mother love is the question ofschools and school education--one of the most perplexing and troublingof all, and yet unavoidable. 

Let us suppose that our mother is an ideal one--that she hasgladly responded with the best that is in her to her love andresponsibility--that she has cherished and nourished every tenderlittle bud in the heart and soul of her boy--that the twig ofcharacter is rising up straight and beautiful, in every respect. 

Then comes the day when Master Bob must go off to school--a day school, or a boarding school, or first one and then the other. 

Why does he have to do this? In the first place because it is the customevery boy is supposed to do it, when he arrives at a certain age--andthen, to receive proper instruction, his brain must be taught, his mindenlightened. 

So off to school he must go, and when he gets there, a new and differentatmosphere surrounds him, a new influence is brought to bear on thelittle character, so tenderly forming, and in the main the nature ofthis influence is two-fold. First, there is the school-room and theschool books and the teaching of teachers--and second, there is thecompanionship, intimacy, teaching, of the other boys with whom he isthrown into contact. 

As the action of this latter influence is usually the more immediate, direct, and compelling, we may as well give it the foremost place in ourconsideration. And let us be careful to state frankly and bearconstantly in mind that all cases are by no means alike. The conditionsto be met with may be largely accidental and differ materially in degreeor kind. And the consequences, for any particular boy, may depend verylargely upon accidental circumstances, or inherited tendencies. A boy, who is naturally warm-blooded and very impulsive, may not react in thesame way as another boy, who is inclined to be reserved and reflective. If I am led by my observations to make use of extreme or exceptionalexamples it is not my intention to imply that they are the rule, butmerely to bring out clearly a point, or meaning, which, in less degree, may have a more general application. 

We have already had occasion to refer repeatedly to the force of examplein shaping the conduct and ideas of a vast majority of people. Nowhereis this force more rapidly effective, than in the case of growingchildren. It is their instinct to absorb and imitate, consciously orunconsciously, and so adapt themselves to new conditions of development. 

And this instinct is sure to be very much alive, more than ever alive, when boys and girls find themselves removed from the family influence, amid new conditions and new companions of the school. 

Before we follow our boy, Bob, so far, let us pause for a moment andconsider this question of companionship with other boys and theinfluence of example, as it may have applied to him, while mother wasstill at hand to watch over him. Any boy or boys that Bob might comeinto contact with, or make companions of, would also come under mother'seye. Not only that, but Bob would repeat to her, spontaneously andgushingly, every new thing that they said, or did. And if Bob still hada nurse hanging about, she would have an eye and an ear and something tosay to mother, too. If one of these boys happened to be tricky anddeceitful, resentful and cruel, mother would be sure to know about itvery quickly. She could straighten out Bob's feelings with regard to anyof those things before real damage occurred; and she could see to itthat such contamination was kept away from him. As long as a boy remainsunder the home influence, it is part of mother's responsibility to guardagainst just such things. 

As soon as he goes away to school, and gets under the new influence, itis no longer possible for her to do so. Of all the various kinds of boysto be found at any school, which ones Bobby is destined to have asclosest companions, to exchange confidences with constantly, and haveset him the example, is largely a matter of luck, or accident. It maycome about through adjoining seats in class, or though proficiency inthe same games, or a common interest in collecting bird's eggs, orpostage stamps, or through being room-mates, or sleeping in the samecorridor at boarding-school, or one of a dozen other haphazard reasons. 

Let us imagine that by chance, in this way, Bobby's closest companionsturn out, in due time, to be four in number. And for the sake ofemphasizing our meaning and the principle involved, let us imagine thatthe accident, in this particular case, is more extreme than usual. 

The first boy, Ed, has been brought up chiefly by a stern and rigidlymoral father of the old school, who has reprimanded, disciplined, chastised, most consistently and thoroughly. The second boy, Sam, has asociety mother, somewhat of a belle, and so feverishly absorbed in hervanities and distractions, that his up-bringing, from the cradle, hasdevolved entirely upon a series of Irish, Swedish and German nurses. Thethird boy, Bill, has a very intellectual mother, an ardent devotee ofwoman's rights, and an active worker in various up-lift and educationalmovements. She laid out a plan of mental development for him, in earlychildhood, in accordance with the latest scientific books, but nothaving the time to attend to it herself, and having had constant rowswith her nurses, she has ended up by heaping the blame on the naturalstupidity and stubbornness of the boy, which could only have beeninherited from his father. The fourth boy, Hal, is the most up-to-dateof all. His mother and father were both divorced and both remarried andboth have new families, for which his only feeling is mild resentmentand disdain. 

These boys are hardly to blame if, as a result of such home training, the growth of their characters has already become tangled and somewhatover-run by the weeds of selfishness and calculation. If they were onlymischievous, high-spirited and lacking in respect, the harm might not begreat; but there is also a deficiency of the generous feelings ofsympathy and affection, of moral standards, and of any abiding faith inwhat should be. Their bodies and their brains may be well developed; butnot their hearts and souls. 

They may find it to their interest to display perfect discipline in theschool-room and receive high marks and commendation from their teachers;they may also excel in the various games and win prizes on the athleticfield; but this in no way prevents them from setting an insidiousexample to a less precocious companion. 

For practical purposes, the point-of-view and controlling motives ofthese four boys is in fairly complete accord. They think it is verysmart to do things which are against the rules; but they think it isvery stupid to get caught. They believe in using their wits to get thebest of other people--especially older people, like parents andteachers. They believe in practising concealment, dissimulation andinsincerity; but they are very wary of getting saddled with a downrightlie. They have the utmost contempt for a "tell-tale, " and they includein this opprobrium any boy who hasn't sense enough to keep from olderpeople an inkling of any sort, as to what he himself may have been upto, as well as any others of the crowd. Nothing is half so bad asblabbing what you know--not even the risk of getting caught in a lie. They laugh at scruples of conscience; and they place little dependenceon mother love, or father love, or any kind of love which isn'tself-centered and decidedly material. They also have little use forhigh-flown sentiment, poetry, old-fashioned prejudices and pretences ofromance; and if they do have time to read a book, they want it to besomething up-to-date and exciting--a detective story, for instance, witha master thief and vampires. In addition to this, they have a number ofother precocious and undigested notions about a variety of things, whichthey are ready to pass out confidentially, in almost any connection. 

Again we repeat that it is not to be inferred that all the boys in anyschool, or any great proportion of them, are necessarily of this sort. But in almost any school, some of them are liable to be met with--moreso to-day than ever, for reasons which have been amply explained. Thereis no way of telling, at school, what certain boys may be thinking andsaying and doing, when they are out of sight and hearing. If our boy, Bob, is unfortunate enough to be thrown in close and constant contactwith that kind, it is unreasonable to imagine that he is at all toblame. His natural effort is to try and adapt himself to conditions ashe finds them; he sees and feels that he is but a tiny part of a bigsystem, in which most matters are determined for him, by the systemitself. Aside from which, his nature is very trusting and sensitive, rather shy at first, and totally without experience of this new andperplexing world. 

The feelings and ideals which have been growing so tenderly in hislittle heart and soul are not robust enough to offer much resistance torepeated and covert attacks. They are in as great a need as ever, ofguidance and encouragement and nourishment and the sunlight of lovingsympathy. The formation of character was proceeding in a beautiful andpromising way, but it may not be safely assumed that the results arecomplete and permanent at such an early age--the customary age whichmost parents accept for sending their children to school. And where, inthe chance companionship of school life, is a fitting substitute to befound for the right kind of family influence and the devotion of motherlove?

It is sad to say it, but I have, in my own experience, known a number ofcases, where the havoc caused in a promising character was directlytraceable to the influence and bad example of youthful associates. 

A practical, up-to-date mind might say complacently that such charactersmust have been so weak that they would probably have gone that way, anyhow. But that is merely to close one's eyes to the understanding of avital principle, the inner feelings of heart and soul which play such alarge part in the formation of character, are subject to growth andalteration, like all other living things; and until they are given afair chance to become strong, by development and exercise and propercare, why should anything more than a relative weakness be expected ofthem? If you abandon them too soon to blighting influences, there isalways danger of their being more or less spoiled. 

The other side of the school question relates to the school-books andschool-rooms and the teaching of the teachers. 

When we stop and consider that the average little boy, or girl, betweenthe ages of six and fourteen, spends thousands upon thousands of hours, in a more or less dreary and distasteful and uninspiring way, overschool-books, in school and out, it might seem as if we had a right toask ourselves: Does the result justify the means? Does any one claim, orimagine, that school-books contain much nourishment for the heart andsoul, or the moral feelings, or love of beauty? Upon what grounds, doesany one claim, or imagine, that such things are less important to thegrowth of character, and a cheerful disposition, and fine standards ofconduct, than the training of the intellect? If we are perfectlysatisfied that the method employed to train the intellect does not andneed not interfere with a corresponding development of those other sidesof human nature--that is one thing. But let us not be satisfied to takeso much for granted, without giving it a little thought. That is thefirst point to get clear. 

All those thousands of hours spent over school-books, in school-rooms, if they were not confined to that, might be devoted to other things. That is obvious and inevitable. What kind of things? If they wereallowed a freedom of choice, children would want to do the things thatinterested them the most--things they felt like doing. And the naturalfeelings of each growing individual would be the dominant factor innearly all cases. The natural feelings of a little boy, or a littlegirl, are nothing for any one to be ashamed of, or deplore, or wish tomake otherwise. They are part of the all-wise plan, designed moreprofoundly and beautifully than any science of man can comprehend. Andnothing is more natural than that a boy, or a girl, growing up in anatmosphere of love and sympathy and kindness, and what is right and fairand admirable, should respond to those feelings, more and more, and growto have them, too. Some selfish instincts have to be guided andcontrolled by deeper and better feelings and the exercise of reason, andthat is natural, too. And even the selfish instincts are just as naturaland just as wisely planned as the deeper and better feelings, or theexercise of reason. 

In the advanced stage of enlightenment at which we have arrived can anyreasonable person fail to recognize this palpable truth? It is possiblethat some people might be found who have happened to overlook it; butless easy to believe that they could fail to recognize it, when it iscalled to their attention. 

Any normal child delights in the exercise of all its faculties andinstincts and feelings--whether they be of the heart and the soul, orthe body and the brain. This is the natural method of their growth. Andthe ideal individual would be one in whom all these sides had reachedtheir fullest development, in a perfectly balanced whole. 

The vast majority of things which interest children and which theynaturally like and seek to do are unconsciously in line with thisendeavor. They all give exercise to some quality which is useful andproper to human nature. And the variety of interests which may act inthis way is so infinitely great, that children are seldom at a loss tofind something that appeals to them. Sometimes they need advice, or helpfrom older people, but that, too, is as it should be. 

If children, between six and fourteen, had at their disposal thosethousands of hours which we have referred to, and did not have to botherwith school or school-books--what kind of use might they be expected toput them to?

It is not at all difficult to imagine. Play, in the first place, andgames--in the sunshine and open air. And if the sun isn't shining, onrainy days, more play and games--in the play-room, or about the house, or somewhere under shelter. Marbles and tops and kites; jumping rope, rolling hoops, making pin-wheels; skating, sledding, snow-balling;baseball, fishing, tennis; leap-frog, running, climbing trees; anddozens of other pastimes, too numerous to think of. The very sound ofthem is healthy and joyous and exhilarating and the general effect ofthem on a growing nature is just as wholesome. 

But this is not all, by any means--only one kind of thing, chiefly ofvalue to the physical side of development--health and strength andvitality and cheerfulness. 

In addition to this, there are many other interests of a different orderwhich may appeal to youth very strongly. A collection of postage stamps, or birds' eggs, or picture cards, may become of absorbing interest toboys and girls, with time on their hands. These may encourage patienceand perseverance and observation and enthusiasm, which are mostadmirable as traits of character. 

A boy may become deeply absorbed in a set of carpenter's tools and thethings he can do with them. He can set his heart on making a pair ofstilts, and a boat that will float and steer and sail, and tables andboxes and chests of drawers for his collections--all of which maydevelop skill and determination and an aspiration to fineaccomplishment. And the interest so begun may lead to a bracket-saw andcarving tools, or a turning lathe, and the fashioning of more intricateand beautiful things. 

A boy, or a girl, may have a camera and learn to take pictures anddevelop them and print them, and encourage in this way the growth offeelings and tastes and much useful knowledge--in addition to mentaltraining. 

Boys and girls may set their hearts on building a beautiful snowfort--and work and slave and overcome obstacles--until they have giventhemselves a fine lesson in industry, and the rewards of successfulaccomplishment. 

A boy may become interested in a printing press, or a steam engine, oran electric machine of some sort, and acquire by means of it, not only alot of worthy satisfaction and pleasure, but the enthusiasm of deep, spontaneous feelings--in addition to useful information and mentaltraining. 

A perfectly normal boy, without any special bent for music, or art, maywant to play on a drum, or a banjo--or to paint pictures withwater-colors--and through the effort devoted to this want, encourage thegrowth of tastes and feelings, which may prove of benefit and value, allthrough life. 

If boys and girls are not occupied and tired by forced application toschool-books, there is hardly any limit to the number of things, towhich they may turn their attention, with natural energy and enthusiasm, and frequently with great benefit to feelings and qualities whichinvolve not only the body and the mind, but the heart and soul, as well. 

We have named but a few of the activities to which those thousands ofhours, now consumed by school-books and school-rooms, might be otherwisedevoted. Whether or not those things are more important to generaldevelopment of character, they certainly cannot be indulged in toanything like the same extent, if so much time and energy is dailyrequired for school education. When children are released from theschool-room, their heads and their nerves are fairly tired and theirbodies longing for freedom. There is usually another period of studyhanging over them, before bed-time; and although a certain number ofhours are allowed them for recreation, that recreation is not apt totake the form of heart-felt interests which put an added strain onnerves and head. 

With this point-of-view in mind, it may prove worth while to illustrateby some concrete examples the kind of results that are liable to occur. And in choosing examples, this time, it will not be necessary to relyupon conjecture or imagination. It so happens that I may refer to someactual cases where boys and girls have not been obliged to go to school, or even to open a school-book, during all those thousands of hours. And, strangely enough, in spite of the forebodings and disapproval ofmany intellectual people, who always feel it their duty to protestagainst such a procedure, the results in all the cases I have anyknowledge of, were not disastrous at all, but very much the contrary. 

Let us begin with some girls--three sisters. Their parents werewell-born and well-educated, the father being a man of considerabledistinction and originality. From a position of comparative wealth, theywere reduced by business reverses, to relative poverty, and retired to afarmhouse in an unsettled district. The mother was in delicate health, the father under the need of trying to repair his fortunes, and therewas no school-house within reach. In addition to that, the father hadvery little belief in current school methods, or the efficacy of schoolbooks. The result was that the three girls were allowed to go withoutany education of the prescribed kind; but an old man who happened to beliving nearby, with nothing to do, was prevailed upon to come every dayand help along with their enlightenment in any way they desired, or hesaw fit. This old man had once had artistic tendencies, had tried hishand at various things, and was well-read and well-travelled. He soontook a great interest in the three bright and charming girls, and cameto regard himself in the light of a kindly, sympathetic companion--whichis the next best thing to a mother, or a father. 

He helped the girls with their flower garden, went walking with them inthe fields and answered as many of their questions as he could aboutflowers and planting and trees and shrubs and plants, birds, snakes andbees--anything and everything they showed an interest in. 

When it was raining, he played on the piano for them and showed them howto play little tunes for themselves--which they thought was great fun. He could paint and draw very well and he brought them a box of watercolors and showed them how to color pictures and draw flowers and birdsand simple things for themselves. He also got some clay and played withthem at modelling figures of various kinds. 

In addition to that, he had one idea, which was a sort of hobby, andabout which he talked to them a lot. Every girl, as she grew up, as wellas every boy and man, would be called upon, sooner or later, to writeletters to people she cared about, and wanted those letters to be niceand interesting. Most people didn't know how to express their thoughts. So every day, they sat down together, indoors or out, and each wrote aletter to an imaginary friend. Little by little, the letters becameeasier and longer and more interesting. 

Frequently he recited poetry that he knew by heart, and told them fairytales, and stories of every description from the many books he had read. 

And so the thousands of hours were spent with simple natural interests, in a most enjoyable way, without a thought of school-books, or anythingdistasteful, compulsory or confining. 

What, in this case, were some of the results? One was that the life oftheir inner feelings was developed to an unusual degree. Everything wasdone to encourage them, and nothing to suppress, or distort them. Thestories and poems made a constant appeal to their imagination, while thedaily letters which they wrote became a means of reflecting and applyingthis appeal. 

A love of beautiful things was naturally developed in them, and theynaturally conceived a fondness for music and painting and modelling andpoetry and story-telling. There was no pressure exerted upon them in anyof these directions--merely the encouragement of spontaneous interestand the help of example. 

These tastes and qualities, became the common possession of all threegirls. They could all write poetry and stories; they could all draw andpaint and model and play tunes on the piano--with more or less feelingand facility--and they all grew up with remarkably sympathetic andgracious personalities--which became, later on, very widely admired andcommented upon. 

One of the girls, the eldest, conceived a deeper liking than the othersfor music. As time went on, she wanted to spend more and more time atthe piano--playing and practising and learning to read the notes. 

The second girl, in a similar way, was more attracted to drawing andmodelling and painting. The youngest one, while the other two were thusengaged, liked to sit down with pencil and paper and amuse herself inwriting rhymes and stories. 

The eldest daughter became a fine musician and composer of music, and abrilliant career was in sight for her at the time of her death, whichoccurred when she was just out of her teens. 

The second daughter, won for herself a distinguished place as a painter, in Paris and in this country. 

The youngest one left to her own resources, a widow with a little son tosupport, achieved much wealth and fame as a literary celebrity, one ofthe most admired of her generation. 

Let us now refer to some other cases, this time to boys, where thebringing-up happened to be accomplished without any aid, orinterference, of school-books or school-teaching. In some instances thisprocedure was due to illness and delicate health on the part of the boy, which made fresh air and freedom from confinement seem more importantthan the benefits of mental training. In other cases, the parentsdeliberately believed and decided it was better for self-development andthe formation of character to dispense with what they considered thedisadvantages of school methods. 

As long as a boy does not know how to read, and is not taught how, it isthe most natural thing in the world for him to want somebody to tell--orread--to him fairy-tales and verses and stories of every kind that hecan understand. And this want is sure to be supplied, when there areloving parents to watch out for it. It may be the mother, the nurse, thefather, or an aunt, or an uncle, who take turns at it. 

Sooner or later, as a result of this, the child is very apt to feel acuriosity and interest and ambition to learn how to read stories forhimself. In the absence of any forcing, the more he thinks about it, themore his heart becomes set on it. He asks questions about letters andwords in books--surprises his mother by showing how he can print hisown name, then her name and father's. Little by little, withoutanybody's teaching him, almost without any one's realizing it, he haslearned to read. This might not happen, of course, in an unsympatheticatmosphere--if there were no story telling, and no story books lyingabout, to bring the inspiration. But as far as my experience goes, ithas always happened, somewhere between the ages of eight and ten, if notbefore. 

One boy I know, after learning to read for himself, in this way, inrummaging through the bookshelves, came upon a queer little book ofExperimental Chemistry. It was very old and primitive and had curiouswood-cut illustrations in it. It had long ago belonged to the boy'sgrand-father. It was easy to read and told about simple experiments thatany boy could try himself. The necessary ingredients for many of themcould be found at home, or be bought for a few cents at the drug-store. It happened to arouse his interest. 

The first experiment described how to take a little powdered sugar andmix it with a little powder obtained by crushing up a tablet of chlorateof potash--such as people put in their mouths for a sore throat. Thatwould make an explosive, as powerful as the powder used in guns. Itcould be set off by dropping on it from an eye-dropper one drop of acertain kind of acid, from the druggist's. 

The boy procured the necessary things, then ran to his mother, and askedher if he might try the experiment. She responded to his enthusiasm andonly asked permission to stand by and look on. He dropped the acid onthe powder--and sure enough, the powder went off with a big flash. Wonderful excitement and joy! The experiment had to be repeated againand again, for the amazement of the waitress and the cook--andespecially for father, as soon as he came home. 

That was the beginning of a new interest. The boy kept the book by himand pored over it, and set his heart upon acquiring first one thingafter another, as they became necessary. As he accumulated bottles andglass tubes, and chemicals and apparatus, he made shelves and stands forthem with his carpenter tools. 

In due time, he got other books on the same subject and became thepossessor of a very practical little chemical laboratory, which was allof his very own making. At the age of twelve, he was thoroughly at homein dozens of complicated processes and experiments. 

This was only one of the many interests which he had plenty of time tofollow, with the same sort of enthusiasm. At the age of fourteen, hislaboratory was a thing of the past, but for all that, years after, atcollege, among his various other achievements, he had no trouble inwinning a prize scholarship in chemistry. 

Another boy, brought up in a similar way and having learned to readwithout teaching, first took a lively interest in automobiles. When thefamily car went wrong, he watched the repairs, asked questions, and wasready to lend a helping hand. Many of the troubles on a modern car areapt to be in connection with the electrical equipment--battery, lights, magneto, timer, self-starter, etc. Sooner or later, a boy who takes aninterest, is apt to become more or less familiar with the principle ofall these things, especially if his nerves and brain are not deadened byforced application. At any rate, this boy soon did. This led to aninterest in other electrical things--the ringing of bells and buzzersabout the house, and the installation of an electric motor which wouldrun the sewing machine, or a grindstone, or a little lathe. Then he gothold of a booklet about wireless telegraphy. There is somethingthrilling about the idea which appeals to the imagination--the receivingof mysterious messages from afar, through the air, and sending back fromyour little instrument the far-flying answers. 

At the age of twelve, this boy with the aid of a Japanese servant, hadset up his own aerial and apparatus, had learned the code alphabet andwas thoroughly familiar with all the delicate intricacies of detector, tuning coil, sparker and the rest of it. He had gotten in touch withcertain other wireless operators within a radius of ten miles and, although he had never seen any of them, he could recognize instantly thesound of their different instruments and it was a joy and delight tohold conversations with them and call them up for a good-night, beforehe went to bed. And before he was thirteen, he undertook to constructwith his own hands a tuning coil which would be better for his purposesthan the kind he could afford to buy at the store. After much determinedeffort, he succeeded and installed it and had the satisfaction offinding that it was, indeed, decidedly better. 

Another boy, who had never had to bother his head with school-books, butwho had also learned to read, in due time got started on a new interestby a printing-press, which was given to him for Christmas. He puzzledwith it and worked over it, until he learned to set up type and operateit very nicely. Then he began printing visiting cards--first forhimself, then mother and father, then the servants and friends. It wasgreat fun to take orders from them and charge them ten cents a dozen, in a business-like way. Next he got a larger press and different kindsof type, and by dint of perseverance he found among the trades-people afew kindly souls, who allowed him to print their business cards for themat so much a hundred. 

Out of this interest grew a more ambitious one. How fine it would be toprint and publish a little newspaper, with stories and verses andadvertisements and subscriptions and everything! This appealed to theimagination and became an absorbing ambition. In this particular case, the newspaper project soon outdistanced the printing press. Thenewspaper must be bigger and finer than a press of that kind couldpossibly manage. So the boy went to a regular printer and found outabout the cost and details of publishing such a paper as he had in mind. He didn't have enough money of his own for that, but he figured out thatby going again to the tradespeople and getting them to pay foradvertising in his paper and by making people pay for subscriptions tothe paper, the problem could be solved. He decided to limit the scope ofhis enterprise to the publication of six numbers, one every month. Hewent to different tradespeople with whom the family dealt, stated hisintentions, and asked for advertisements at the rate of fifty cents anumber. He was only twelve years old at the time and they naturally haddoubts about his ability to carry out the project; but some were foundwith enough kindly sympathy to agree to pay him, when he brought themthe paper containing the advertisement. In the same way, among relativesand friends and neighbors, he sought subscriptions at the rate of fivecents a copy and succeeded in obtaining a sufficient number for hispurpose. 

He chose a name for his paper by himself but, when it came to thequestion of the reading matter, he did not presume to attempt much ofthat, at first, but felt he could do better by appealing to his motherand aunt and others for the kind of contributions he had in mind. 

He carried out his project, to the letter, --six numbers, one amonth--and at the end of it, he not only had the satisfaction of a fineeffort well done, but he had also earned a clear profit of over fifteendollars. Likewise, he had helped the growth of character, the taste forliterary achievement, the acquisition of much useful experience andinformation, and considerable mental training of an admirable sort. 

I might continue in this way, almost indefinitely, telling about theinterests and results which may come quite naturally to boys and girlsfreed from the routine of school training. 

Enough has been said, however, to suggest food for thought. With afeeling of interest, or enthusiasm, behind it, almost any kind of mentalexercise, or physical exercise, takes on the color of gladness. Withoutinterest, or enthusiasm, almost any kind of compulsory effort becomesdrab and drear and irksome. The intellect can be a splendid friend tothe feelings--it can bring all sorts of suggestions to them, and pointout their usefulness and their charm--but if, for some reason which maybe entirely intuitive and fundamental and all-wise, the feelings refuseto respond, or to coöperate, any further compulsion is apt to provefutile and unproductive of the right growth of character. 

These are a few of the considerations which led to the remark, inconnection with our boy, Bob, that the question of schools and schooleducation is one of the most perplexing and troubling. 

No loving mother is responsible for the existing school system, norcould she alter it, if she wanted to. Even if she has a little pinch ofthe heart at the thought of subjecting her sensitive boy to such anordeal, how can she dare to do otherwise? Among people of all classes, it is considered proper and necessary, for children to be sent toschool. 

But provided a mother has a clear understanding that her child'sfeelings and vitality are the most important things, it is alwayspossible for her to seek some sort of a compromise in his favor. She candelay the time of sending him away, until nine, or ten, or eleven. If hegoes to a private school, she can very often arrange matters so that heneed only attend the morning session, and never be "kept in, " afterhours, for punishment. She can help him with the studies which he bringshome, and take great pains never to scold him, or show displeasure, ordisappointment, if he gets bad marks. She can explain to him that whileit is only natural for a school-teacher to attach an exaggeratedimportance to the training of the brain, mothers and fathers care agreat deal more about deeper and finer interests and the right kind ofconduct. 

That is about all most mothers can do, --no matter how great theirlove--as long as the present system remains in force. When, or how, itwill ever be changed radically, is something about which it would befutile to express an opinion. 

Another question which naturally arises in this connection has to dowith college and the very difficult entrance examinations which a modernboy is required to pass. How is he to do that, unless he is sent toschool in time to be prepared? Many mothers and fathers want their boysto have a college education. 

To this objection, there is an easy and reassuring answer. 

Even if your boy has never seen the inside of a school-book, before theage of thirteen or fourteen, that need not prevent him from beingprepared for college, just as well and at about the same time, as theaverage boy who has been attending school from the age of five, or six. 

All of the boys I have referred to, passed their examinations far betterthan the average. All those thousands of hours which were devoted toother interests, entirely apart from school-books, did not have theeffect of retarding the boys' mental development and training. It wasonly a different kind of training, more in accordance with the methodsof nature. When these boys arrived at the age of thirteen, they had morecharacter, more self-control, more determination and more mentalequipment, than the vast majority of boys acquire at school. I think itis a fair presumption, that under favorable conditions, such a resultmay be expected. 

It was the college question that eventually brought these boys topreparatory schools, at the ages of thirteen, or fourteen. And in orderto enter a preparatory school and get used to the ways of school-books, it may be necessary for the boy to do some preliminary studying, for afew months, with some one to help him. But by that time, he has anobject in view, his interest is involved, and he will seldom require theslightest urging. Without exception, the boys I have referred toattained high rank, both in school and in college. 

There remains one more thing to think about in connection with thebringing up of children. What about religion? Here is also aconsideration which can hardly be avoided. 

If the parents are church-goers and still believe in the truth andteachings of the Bible, --that is one thing. In that case, all a motherhas to do is to encourage her children in the same belief, take them tochurch and Sunday School, and teach them to say their prayers fromearliest childhood. 

But there are also many parents, who no longer go to church and whosefaith in the traditional teachings has become very much shaken. Theirnumbers have been increasing very rapidly, for reasons which we havereferred to, and are extremely likely to keep on increasing. Suppose aloving mother belongs to this class--what is best and wisest for her todo with her son?

"Mother, where did I come from? And who made all these other people?What for?"

Those are simple and natural questions, which are apt to come fairlysoon in the growth of intelligence. They call for some sort of answer. It is the first beginning of a soul feeling, a groping for a faith ofsome sort in human destiny. 

What is to be mother's answer?

If she says she doesn't know--nobody does--that is very unsatisfactoryand very troubling. The groping will still continue, with more and morepersistency. If mother has a reason for refusing to tell, theinformation must be sought elsewhere. And it will very soon beforthcoming from some one--the nurse, or the cook, or the waitress. Godmade the world--He lives in heaven--He rewards people if they are good, by making them angels; and if they are bad, He sends them to hell, to beroasted by the devil. The churches, which the child has seen, are wherepeople go to pray to God and worship Him. 

This answers the question and is perfectly satisfactory, for the timebeing. But the attitude of mother is apt to give rise to suspicion thatshe was only pretending, when she said she didn't know. If the nurseknows--and all the people who go to church, know--then mother must know, too. Perhaps mother, for reasons of her own, doesn't wish him to knowyet, and would blame the nurse for telling him? Then the nurse wouldblame him. If mother chooses to conceal things from him, he can avoidtrouble by concealing things from mother. This implies a breach ofconfidence between mother and son--which is not at all good for aforming character. 

It is far better for mother to show a sympathetic understanding of thesoul need and respond to it accordingly. A child has no end ofimagination, and feelings to correspond. It is the spirit and meaning ofideas which signify, and not their material accuracy. Rhymes and jinglesand mother goose and fairy tales and Santa Claus are all founded on anunderstanding of this. They supply in fanciful form a very real andnecessary food for the inner nature. In the same way, with thisreligious groping, food that will satisfy must be given in some form. 

But as a religious belief is something which it is hoped will lastthrough life, it would seem best to clothe it, as far as possible, inideas that will not have to be discarded by the intellect, when thatbecomes enlightened. 

Nearly every mother believes that the world and all it contains werecreated, somehow, by an all-wise Being--and that this Being has aneverlasting existence somewhere. The usual name for that Being, in theEnglish language, is God, and the unknown place where He dwells, isusually called heaven. That is something which may be told to any child;the idea is easy to grasp, it responds to a fundamental need, and it cannever be disproved by any amount of science, or enlightenment. 

As compared to God, mother and father and all people on the earth arelike little children, and each and every one is allowed to share in thebenefits of His love and wisdom. He wishes all his children to do whatthey feel is right and fine, and fight against what is mean and wrong. 

If some people have less money than others, and fewer materialpleasures, and in other ways seem less fortunate, that does not meanthat they are less worthy of love and consideration. Nor does it meanthat they are less fine, or necessarily less fortunate. The highest kindof satisfaction in life comes almost entirely from being true to yourown generous feelings and doing the best you can under any and allcircumstances. A poor little cripple may have this satisfaction, just aswell as a rich man's son. It is very possible that the little cripple'sspirit and his life on earth, will count for more in the eternal scheme, than the rich man's son. Material pleasures are perfectly natural andright and desirable; but they are only one part of life. A mother whohas a beautiful boy and loves him with her whole heart and soul, has amore precious treasure than all the money in the world can buy. 

Those are also religious beliefs which may be told to any boy, or girl, and allowed to take root and grow, for all time. They are the expressionof fundamental feelings which no amount of science can disprove, ordeny. 

As regards the question of spoken prayers, we come upon considerationsof a slightly different order. The idea of spoken prayer and the spiritwhich underlies it are beautiful and inspiring. The soul of anindividual to be in direct, personal communication with the all-wiseCreator--how thrilling and sublime! It would seem almost the deepest anddearest wish that mortal man could have. It is also an idea which achild can readily grasp and believe and put into practise. 

But certain mothers and fathers, whom I have heard talk on this subject, find themselves confronted by scruples and objections which are entirelysincere and conscientious. While admitting the beauty of the idea, theypoint to the fact that they themselves no longer believe in it, orpractise it. To their minds, it has become no more than the survival ofa superstition, which is no longer tenable. Under such circumstances, they can see no justification for imposing it upon the credulity oftheir children. 

One answer to such an objection is that it is always possible for thereason to be at fault in matters which involve the unknown. Aside fromthat, there are many worse things for children than the survival of abeautiful superstition. The same scruples might be applied, without anyelement of doubt, to the idea of Santa Claus; but the spirit of thatbelief, while it lasts, is so joyful, and its influence so benign, thatit would take an extremely dry heart and an excessive rule of reason todesire its abolition. 

CONJECTURE

And now, at last, we have reached a point, where, in thinking of thefuture and the hope for coming generations, we may turn our gaze in anew direction and enter the realm of conjecture and prophecy. 

There is an old saying that "Coming events cast their shadows before. "If we let our thoughts dwell on the confused shadows which appear to behanging over the spirit of our present civilization, it is possible toimagine that we can see in them the outlines of a coming event of themost profound importance. This would be neither more, nor less, than thebirth of a new religion--or what amounts to the same thing, a new formof religious belief. 

What grounds are there for imagining such an absurdity? It is only aconjecture--it could not be anything else--but for all that, it is notnecessarily an absurdity. 

The conflict which is going on between the old traditional beliefs andthe advanced spirit of enlightenment has in it elements ofcontradiction, too deep and too radical, to permit of a complete victoryon the part of either. If the struggle were to continue indefinitely, onthe present lines, it seems inevitable that countless numbers must befound, on one extreme, who would never be willing to abandon theirfaith; and, on the other extreme, would be countless numbers who couldnever consent to a return to what they consider disproved and antiquatedsuperstitions. And somewhere between these two, will be a constantlyincreasing mass of others, pushed and pulled in opposite directions, half-pretending agreement with both sides, but without real loyalty toeither, trying in a more or less troubled way, to remain non-committal, and arriving at a state of indifference, drifting along, withoutleadership, or conviction. 

If we may believe the testimony of observers in England, this conditionof affairs is already quite plainly indicated there--as much or more, as it is in this country. 

Such a situation is well nigh intolerable to humanity. The palpableresults of it can hardly fail to be disheartening to any normal being. And out of this disheartenment will inevitably come a yearning, more orless unconscious, but more and more appealing, for something differentand something better, a yearning for true and unquestionable leadership, which can inflame the imagination, inspire new faith, and commandwhole-souled devotion, as it points the way. 

In the mysterious scheme of the universe, in the all-wise design, whensuch a yearning becomes intense enough and widespread enough, I cannotbut believe that somehow, somewhere, out of a tenement, or out of apalace, or out of the wilderness, will come the appointed leader. Thisis the fateful event of my conjecture, which I imagine is casting itsshadow before, and which may bring a renewal of light and enthusiasm tomillions of troubled souls. 

It may not come for a generation, or it may not come in a century, or itmay be close at hand. What the particular form and force of the newinspiration will be like, is beyond the scope of the imagination. 

But it is not so difficult to hazard a prophecy in regard to itsessence. There will be no claim, or creed, of any kind, to whichscientific information, or enlightened reason, can ever find ground totake exception. It will not belittle admiration for the human body, orthe human brain, or even of pleasures and desires which may be purelymaterial; but, on the contrary, will encourage the development of themall, as a relatively important part of the all-wise design. Above andbeyond these, will be a deeper and greater appeal to the most generousand noble intuitions of the heart and soul. There will be very littleconsideration for punishments, or rewards, or threats, or anger, --toforce the human soul into submission of any kind; but there will beimmense consideration for love of others and love of right, individualresponsibility and self-control. Pervading and illuminating all, will bea blessed faith in the beauty and wisdom and purpose of the eternalmystery. 

And whenever, or wherever, this kind of ideal comes, and rings outthrough the land, with compelling inspiration, I venture the prophecythat the prevailing spirit of civilization will be ripe and ready toreceive it with open arms. 

APPENDIX

_Los Angeles Times_, Feb. 8, 1921. 

CRIMINAL IMPROPRIETY

We had supposed that the decadence obvious in the sartorial modes forsociety women reached its limit last year and that a saner and moredecent sense of propriety would evince itself in the revulsion of publictaste. But the tendency to bizarre indecency has increased so that nowwe are offered in our public ballrooms the spectacle of criminalimpropriety--of women's bare legs with painted knees, of naked backs andlewdly veiled bosoms, of transparent skirts and suggestive nudity, ofdecorated flesh and vulgar exposure generally--the sort of thing thathas ever preceded the downfall of civilizations. It has no relationwhatever to the nudity of innocence, as is perfectly obvious with oneglance at the type of dancing women that affects these disgustingextremes, for their whole deportment is entirely in accord with theirscant covering and nastily conceived exposures. They are brazenlyinviting a certain kind of attention and they get only the sort ofattention they invite. They are degrading all womanhood with theirshamelessness, at a time when the more worthy of their sex have strivento win and deserve to win that respect which should rightfully betheirs. 

The people are all overwhelmed by the appalling crime wave that hasbeset the world--not only by murders, robberies and hold-ups, but by theghastly increase in marital unfaithfulness which clogs the divorcecourts; and the attacks against women and girls which have become adaily department of the news. The incredible and loathsome conditionscannot be overstated. They are widespread, staggering in theirviciousness. And we unhesitatingly declare that the preposterousvulgarity and criminal impropriety of that vastly increasing number ofwomen who adopt these indecent modes for "party gowns" is, if notresponsible for the dirty conditions, at least a large and importantfactor. And it is deplorable that, as the extremists jump from extremeto extreme, the presumably decent women follow. They are slower to adoptthe full measure of indecency, but each season finds them"conservatively" following at a respectful distance, so that the modesfor decent women to-day were the extremes of indecency a few shortseasons back. 

Why do they do it? It is a poor explanation to declare that they thusbecome more attractive to men. If they are honest with themselves, theyknow very well that the sort of attraction thus engendered makes thelowest possible appeal. If they are honest with themselves, they knowvery well that masculine taste in such matters is absolutely in thehands of women, that the standard they set is the standard which willinevitably be adopted. It has been said that every country gets thewomen it deserves, but rather would we say that every woman gets thesort of attention she deserves. Intelligent women know this, no matterwhat their argument to the contrary. 

But the women, who are going to these disgusting and revolting extremes, are not intelligent. Man may be vile, but he also has perception. Observe the women in any public ballroom to-day--those who expose themost have the least worthy of exposure. These lewd revelations arecertainly not in the cause of beauty. It is the fat and podgy, or thelean and bony, female, for the most part, one who has neither naturalphysical nor mental attraction, that resorts to this means of commandingattention. She makes one appeal, and only one, and that to the verylowest instincts of masculine human nature. No matter how she maydeceive herself to the contrary, she is deliberately catering to theanimal passion of men. Beautiful and charming women of mind andcharacter do not feel this urge to trade upon their "private charms. "But the unintelligent and dubious female is invariably the one to make abid for the only sort of attention she can hope to inspire. 

Theodore Maynard, now lecturing before the women's clubs upon the"Imminent Break-up of Civilization, " defines civilization as thatcondition of a people founded upon justice and honor. It is not aquestion of brilliant inventions, of motor cars, telephones, magnificenthotels, luxury and comfort. It is essentially a state of refinement, culture and honor. 

"I could not love thee, dear, so well, loved I not honor more. "

That honor which is the very basis of civilization is essentiallychaste. And civilized women must be the essential guardians of chastityand honor. Where women cater to the dishonorable and unchaste, there canbe no civilization, no sanctity of the home, which should be the verycitadel of honor. 

Adam in Eden whined that Eve had demoralized him. Eve to-day whines thatAdam and his war have demoralized her. They are both wrong and bothculpable. And as in the old biblical story, God will hold both Adam andEve responsible and both shall be driven from the Garden of Eden, ourgreat modern civilization that is gaining all save honor, that keystoneof the arch without which it must fall to ruin. 

And the modern unchastity of women's clothes, the crude, lewd, whollyindefensible appeal to man's lowest instincts, the deliberate trading onthe unclean and the lustful side of human nature, is, we repeat, a basiccause of that widespread dishonor and crime that are pollutingcivilization to-day. Surely there are enough decent, intelligent, noble-minded women left to halt this mad craze for criminal impropriety. Surely they can and will take the lead for purity, decency and honor, rather than be content to follow at long distance that road which leadsto nothing but degradation for all humanity. Women and only women, canhalt this mad delirium--this hideous craving for attention at any cost, at all cost. Where can it end, except in utter degradation, not only fortheir own sex, but for their husbands and their sons?

This utter debasement of that precious heritage called "love" is thebitterest possible reflection upon our modern civilization. The sort ofattraction these unchaste, nakedly adorned, women "of fashion" hold outcan never inspire that precious, priceless thing which "passeth allunderstanding, " which survives all the travail of tribulation, thatbeautiful emotion that "age cannot wither nor custom stale, " whichradiates the dark places with shining light. 

 "Oh, woman, lovely woman! nature made thee To temper man; we had been brutes without you; There's in you all that we believe of heaven Amazing brightness, purity and truth, Eternal joy and everlasting love. "

_Los Angeles Times_, Dec. 17, 1920. 

The financial and business summary for December, issued by the Citizens'National Bank, will be circulated to-day. This careful review of generalconditions classes business as unsatisfactory from the standpoint ofcurrent activity, but hastens to explain that data supporting thisconclusion is on the surface, and then, arguing from the humanstandpoint, says that there is greater need just now that we determinewhen the tendency to cancel contracts, and otherwise strike the elementof integrity from our business relations, will cease, than there is thatwe know when commodity prices will reach the bottom. 

"To-day, " the summary continues, "we are registering a very low point ofcommercial morality, and as we approach the portals of a new year, ayear full of promise and plenty, there is a great need of a fullindividual sense of our personal relations to one another. 

"It is not a struggling that is tearing apart the commercial, social andhome circles of to-day; instead, it is the lack of struggle, a missingambition to stamp out the measure of selfishness that has been permittedto breed in the human consciousness. Our growth during the coming years, both as individual business concerns, as a nation, and as a race, willbe in a direct ratio to our re-establishment of individual and massintegrity. 

"The weakness of the bond market is merely an affair of permanence. Itseems to be purely a seller's market with the cause of the sellingtemporarily prohibitive to reinvestment. The income tax has caused a newseasonal liquidation period to be written into the category ofinvestment influences so that the present bond market, though definitelyin a major trend upward, still hangs down around bargain levels. 

"Possibly some sympathetic bear influence is reflected into the presentbond market through the sharp breaks in the stock market, yet whatevermay be the cause of present low bond prices and dull activity, it iscertain that the underlying fundamentals in control of the investmentsituation are favorable to a long swing upward, with the course tohigher levels graded and fit for rapid travel when the turn of the yearre-energizes the sinews of finance. "

 * * * * *

The protest against the present "blue-laws" is strong and the laws underfire are branded as the limit of legislative meddling, but here are someof the old laws that were really blue:

These laws once were in force in Connecticut:

No one shall run on the Sabbath day, or walk in his garden or elsewhere, except reverently to and from meeting. 

No one shall travel, cook victuals, make beds, sweep house, cut hair, orshave on the Sabbath day. 

No woman shall kiss her child on the Sabbath or fasting day. 

The Sabbath shall begin at sunset on Saturday. 

Whoever brings cards or dice into this dominion shall pay a fine of fivepounds. 

No one shall read common prayer, keep Christmas or Saints' days, makemince pies, dance, play cards or play on any instrument of music exceptthe drum, trumpet and Jew's harp. 

No gospel minister shall join people in marriage; the magistrates onlyshall join in marriage, as they may do it with less scandal to Christ'schurch. 

A man that strikes his wife shall pay a fine of ten pounds; a woman thatstrikes her husband shall be punished as the court directs. 

A wife shall be deemed good evidence against her husband. 

No man shall court a maid in person, or by letter, without firstobtaining consent of her parents; five pounds penalty for the firstoffense to imprisonment for the third offense. 

Married persons must live together or be imprisoned. 

Every male person shall have his hair cut round according to a cap. 

A child over sixteen years old who strikes his father shall be put todeath. 

A child over sixteen years old who is stubborn and rebellious shall beput to death. 

Whoever, professing the Christian religion, shall wittingly deny theSong of Solomon to be the infallible word of God, may be whipped fortylashes and fined fifty pounds. 

Whoever marries two wives or more shall be executed. 

Saying that the Christian religion is a politic device to keep ignorantmen in awe shall be punished with death. 

Any man who uses tobacco in the street shall be fined, or if he do so inhis own house, a stranger being present, he shall be fined, but if on ajourney, five miles from any house, he may smoke. 

Any single person without a servant, wishing to keep house by himself, must get the consent of the selectmen unless he be a public officer. 

Persons not proved guilty, but lying under a strong suspicion of guilt, may be punished, though not so severely as would be the case had theybeen convicted. 

Every family must have a Bible, catechism and other good books. 

_Los Angeles Times_, Feb. 5, 1921. 

CROOKED MINDS

The prompt detection and punishment of the two kidnappers, who werefools enough to believe that they could carry out a melodramaticabduction and get away with it, is a satisfaction to the public. But itdoes not remove the possibility of similar crimes, attempted and perhapsexecuted, by the large class of individuals who, like the Carrs, havecrooked minds--minds that see only glamour and excitement in the life ofa criminal, that are willing to take any chance and gamble with theirown lives and liberty as the stakes, for revenge or merely to get moneyto satisfy their physical demands. 

Ten years, more or less, spent in the penitentiary is not likely tostraighten out the false conceptions of such men. The Carrs willprobably leave the prison with criminal tendencies strengthened by theassociations and repressions of penitentiary life. 

It is just that such criminals should be put where they cannot prey uponsociety. But, while we are dealing out due punishment, the main effortof the social body should be put into the prevention of crime. We aretalking greatly, just now, of the world-wave of crime following the war. Tomes are being written concerning its causes and its cures. But theprimary cause of all crime is the lack of true comprehension of themeaning of life--a distorted viewpoint--a crooked mind. 

The causes of such minds are many: heredity, environment, associations, lack of proper self-control and understanding; they can all be summedup, however, as the lack of moral sense in the individual and in therace. The guiding star of existence, the conscience, in such cases, hasceased to function; the goal ahead, a future existence, has been lostsight of. Souls are adrift. Here is the secret of the unrest, the crime, the upheaval of to-day. 

The old forms of religion, with their rituals and professions, have losttheir hold upon a large portion of humanity. The newer and clearerconceptions of the great truths that are the basis of all religion havenot, as yet, taken the place of the old beliefs in the minds and livesof the majority. The people of the world are to-day at sea, with nodefinite port ahead, with no guiding hand upon the helm of their ship. 

In the chaos of this rudderless age state and church are makingdesperate efforts to palliate the evils of nonreligion and itsconsequence, non-morality. In our own country we are multiplyingstate-provided nurseries, schools, playgrounds, gymnasiums, colleges andhundreds of other substitutes for the homes and the home training thatfails under the strenuous tests of present-day life. We are enormouslyattempting to train bodies and brains from the cradle to fullcitizenship. But with all our provisions and equipment we are failing totouch the real keystone of all character--the spiritual nature of man. We are teaching morality because it is morality, proved by experience tobe expedient, on the whole, for a satisfactory career on the earth. Butour schools and our churches, also, are failing to teach the highestsecret of life--the self-control of mind and body through willedrighteousness, based upon a knowledge and comprehension of a God-createdand governed universe. 

Nor do our schools and colleges train their pupils to an understandingof their own mental powers and the development of right will, of soundreason, of controlled and regulated action. We flood our children andyouth with equipment, with teachers, with opportunity for learningthings from the outside; yet our educational training is failing, as awhole, in giving to the youth of this country the one essential thingfor right living--a true and high ideal and the strength of will toattain it. 

Men like the two just sent away; women like Mrs. Peete (whether she beguilty of murder or not) are the products of a generation that has tornitself away from its old anchors of religion, of duty and responsibilityand has not yet set up a new standard to true its conduct. State andchurch, with all their will to do and their efforts and expenditure ofmeans, can never take the place of right-minded parents and homes wherechildren are taught by example and by word their true relations to Godand to their fellow-men. Crooked minds can only be prevented by heritagefrom men and women, who understand their responsibility to God and totheir country, and who start their sons and daughters out upon thejourney of life with a chance, at least, for decency and uprightness. 

_New York Tribune_, April 22, 1921. 

MACAULAY ON AMERICA

_"Your Constitution Is All Sail and No Anchor"_

_The subjoined letter from the historian Macaulay to Henry S. Randall, of Cortland, N. Y. , is taken from an old file of The Cortland Standard. It was published originally in Harper's Magazine. _

 Holly Lodge, Kensington, London, May 23, 1857. 

Dear Sir: The four volumes of the Colonial History of New York reachedme safely. I assure you that I shall value them highly. They containmuch to interest an English as well as an American reader. Pray acceptmy thanks and convey them to the Regents of the University. 

You are surprised to learn that I have not a high opinion of Mr. Jefferson, and I am surprised at your surprise. I am certain that Inever wrote a line, and that I never, in Parliament, in conversation, oreven on the hustings--a place where it is the fashion to court thepopulace--uttered a word indicating an opinion that the supremeauthority in a state ought to be intrusted to the majority of citizenstold by the head; in other words, to the poorest and most ignorant partof society. 

I have long been convinced that institutions purely democratic must, sooner or later, destroy liberty or civilization or both. In Europe, where the population is dense, the effect of such institutions would bealmost instantaneous. What happened lately in France is an example. In1848 a pure democracy was established there. During a short time therewas reason to expect a general spoliation, a national bankruptcy, a newpartition of the soil, a maximum of prices, a ruinous load of taxationlaid on the rich for the purpose of supporting the poor in idleness. 

Such a system would, in twenty years, have made France as poor andbarbarous as the France of the Carlovingians. Happily the danger wasaverted; and now there is a despotism, a silent tribune, an enslavedpress. Liberty is gone, but civilization has been saved. 

I have not the smallest doubt that if we had a purely democraticgovernment here the effect would be the same. Either the poor wouldplunder the rich and civilization would perish, or order and prosperitywould be saved by a strong military government, and liberty wouldperish. 

You may think that your country enjoys an exemption from these evils. Iwill frankly own to you that I am of a very different opinion. Your fateI believe to be certain, though it is deferred by a physical cause. Aslong as you have a boundless extent of fertile and unoccupied land yourlaboring population will be far more at ease than the laboringpopulation of the Old World, and while that is the case the Jeffersonianpolitics may continue to exist without causing any fatal calamity. 

But the time will come when New England will be as thickly peopled asold England. Wages will be as low and will fluctuate as much with you aswith us. You will have your Manchesters and Birminghams, and in thoseManchesters and Birminghams hundreds of thousands of artisans willassuredly be sometimes out of work. Then your institutions will befairly brought to the test. Distress everywhere makes the laborermutinous and discontented, and inclines him to listen with eagerness toagitators who tell him that it is a monstrous iniquity that one manshould have a million while another cannot get a full meal. 

In bad years there is plenty of grumbling here, and sometimes a littlerioting. But it matters little. For here the sufferers are not therulers. The supreme power is in the hands of a class, numerous indeed, but select; of an educated class; of a class which is, and knows itselfto be, deeply interested in the security of property and the maintenanceof order. Accordingly, the malcontents are firmly yet gently restrained. The bad time is got over without robbing the wealthy to relieve theindigent. The springs of national prosperity soon begin to flow again;work is plentiful, wages rise and all is tranquillity and cheerfulness. I have seen England pass three or four times through such criticalseasons as I have described. 

Through such seasons the United States will have to pass in the courseof the next century, if not this. How will you pass through them? Iheartily wish you a good deliverance. But my reason and my wishes are atwar and I cannot help foreboding the worst. It is quite plan that yourgovernment will never be able to restrain a distressed and discontentedmajority. For with you the majority is the government, and has the rich, who are always a minority, absolutely at its mercy. 

The day will come when in the State of New York a multitude of people, none of whom has had more than half a breakfast, or expects to have morethan half a dinner, will choose a legislature. Is it possible to doubtwhat sort of a legislature will be chosen? On one side is a statesmanpreaching patience, respect for vested rights, strict observance ofpublic faith. On the other is a demagogue ranting about the tyranny ofcapitalists and usurers and asking why anybody should be permitted todrink champagne and to ride in a carriage while thousands of honestfolks are in want of necessaries. Which of the two candidates are likelyto be preferred by a workingman who hears his children cry for morebread?

I seriously apprehend that you will, in some such seasons of adversityas I have described, do things which will prevent prosperity fromreturning; that you will act like people who should in a year ofscarcity devour all the seed corn and thus make the next year not ofscarcity, but of absolute famine. There will be, I fear, spoliation. Thespoliation will increase the distress. The distress will produce freshspoliation. 

There is nothing to stop you. Your Constitution is all sail and noanchor. As I said before, when a society has entered on this downwardprogress, either civilization or liberty must perish. Either some Cćsaror Napoleon will seize the reins of government with a strong hand, oryour republic will be as fearfully plundered and laid waste bybarbarians in the twentieth century as the Roman Empire was in thefifth, with this difference, that the Huns and vandals who ravaged theRoman Empire came from without, and that your Huns and vandals will havebeen engendered within your own country by your own institutions. 

I have the honor to be, dear sir, your faithful servant, T. B. Macaulay. 

H. S. Randall, Esq. , etc. , etc. , etc. 

A FOOL'S PARADISE

Radical propagandists, with a sublime disregard for facts and history, persist in extolling the tenets of Russian Communism as new discoveriesin the art of government. They assert that the Bolshevists have solvedfor the first time in history the problem of social equality. They saythe experiment of the "dictatorship of the proletariat" has never beforebeen attempted and that it fails to find favor outside Russia becausepeoples are always prone to condemn what they do not understand. 

Russia, however, is but the last of many countries to rebel against itsown prosperity. During the twenty years preceding the World War Russiaenjoyed the greatest growth and development, both of its resources andeducation, in the history of the country. Two-thirds of the agriculturalland in the nation was owned and occupied by the farming classes, whichcomprised nearly three-fourths of the population. In ten years thenumber of depositors in the savings banks of Russia had doubled and thegross amount of the deposits had quadrupled. 

Then came the war, to be followed by Bolshevism. The experience ofRussia in the last two years, however, is not unique in the history ofnations. The narration of the spoliation of the rich, the confiscationof the estates and the profligate waste of the national substance isonly a repetition, almost verse for verse and line for line, of thelicense and the abuses of the last years of the Athenian democracy. Itwas then demonstrated that the impoverishing of the rich could notenrich the poor, and that a state without wealth will soon be a statewithout liberty. In the idiom of the gallery gods, it is all "oldstuff. "

The Charmides of Xenophon's "Banquet" celebrates the pleasures andprofits of poverty. He once possessed a fortune that made him fearthieves and sycophants--in reality the same thing--Athens had leviedheavy taxes on the rich and had passed laws making it a capital offensefor a person of wealth to attempt to flee the state. The money raised bythus taxing the wealthy was distributed to the poor in the publicplaces. Any one holding a certificate showing that he had not sufficientwealth to be taxed was admitted free to the theaters and was entitled toone meal a day at restaurants supported by the state. 

The people's council, fearful that there might be a disposition to stopthis waste of public money, passed acts which decreed capital punishmentto any orator who should propose to modify the laws which made "povertya blessing. "

Charmides recounts that he once lived in a state of perpetual terror. New taxes were decreed every day, each of which he was compelled to pay. He was deprived of the liberty even of leaving the state. His lot wasworse than that of the meanest slave. 

Behold! a fertile imagination came to his rescue. He embarked in aspeculation in which failure was inevitable. Good fortune attended him. Within a brief time he was penniless and happy. The unfortunatespeculator who had gained possession of the wealth of Charmides livedfor a brief time in the agony of wealth; then he attempted to flee thestate, was apprehended and executed. 

Charmides makes votive offerings to the gods of Athens for his escapefrom the terror and servitude of property. "How comfortably I sleep!" hecries. "The republic has confidence in me. I am no longer threatened. Itis I who threaten others. A free man, I can go or stay. I appear at thetheater. I am admitted free. The rich rise in trembling and offer me thebest seats. When I walk abroad in the streets they stand aside to offerme an unobstructed passage. To-day I resemble a tyrant. Then I was aslave. Then I paid tribute to the state. Now the state, my tributary, supports me. I lose nothing; for I have nothing. "

For a time democratic Athens was a veritable Bolshevist paradise. Butwhen the ranks of the rich became depleted, when none cared longer toengage in any profitable industry, the public revenue fell until therewas no money to support the happy idlers. The rich were tortured in thevain hope that they would produce hidden treasure; but the publictreasury remained empty. 

This period of riotous profligacy followed the happy conclusion forAthens of the Theban war. When the Athenian proletariat discovered thatthe state was about to pass under the yoke of Philip they hunted downthe remnant of the wealthy class that still remained, executed some, banished others and sold still others into slavery for "betraying theAthenian state and leaving it helpless before its enemies. "

Shortly afterwards Athens came under the despotism of Philip, whospeedily conscripted this proletariat for forced labor. For a hundredyears afterwards, however, Athenian writers in bewailing their loss ofliberty blamed the fall of Athens upon the "rich, " who failed to armand equip a force to fight Philip. 

All the wisdom of her philosophers, all the art and learning whose lossthe world still mourns, fell before the onslaught of this triumphantdemocracy. The culture of the few could not prevail against the greed ofthe many. Domestic conditions became so intolerable that a majority ofthe Athenians welcomed the stern but salutary rule of the tyrant. Forthey had learned that the tyranny of a despot is easier to be borne thanthat of universal poverty. 

One does not have to interrogate the future to learn whither Russiaunder Bolshevism is tending; one has but to look to the past. Likecauses cannot produce unlike effects. Under given conditions nationaleclipses can be predicted as surely as the eclipses of the planets. 

_Los Angeles Times_, May 4, 1921. 

NAPOLEON'S CENTENNIAL

The hundredth anniversary of the passing of Napoleon centers attentionanew on one of the baffling figures of all time--a man at onceattractive and repulsive; a soldier of infinite courage who on at leastone occasion acted the coward; a master strategist who, to the last, seemed never to fully grasp that strategy by which he almost recast aworld. 

He found Europe feudal and left it modern. He opened up new realms ofknowledge to the servants; revolutionized military tactics; foundedlasting industries; gave a new birth to French law; mocked and yetfostered freedom. 

More volumes have been written regarding him than any other character inhistory--one excepted. Nevertheless, he still remains the most elusive, the most unsatisfying genius that the world has ever known. 

His accomplishments have by this time been fully set forth and properlyvalued. We know that he stands practically alone as the greateststrategist of the ages. Cromwell, on a smaller scale and within a farmore limited sphere, more nearly approaches him, perhaps, than does anyother. 

We know also that he was an adroit politician and a statesman on a scalerarely equalled in Europe. He was also an orator and an adept at coiningphrases. He was an executive of immense power and a man of tremendouspersonal charm. 

Of course, he was relentless, cruel, unscrupulous and all the rest ofit, as we have been so often told. But, praise and blame aside, thequestion of the source of his power still remains the important thing. 

Certainly he was not great because he was a brilliant student, for, allin all, he was not deeply read. It could hardly be claimed that he wasof the electric, assimilative type, for he would listen to no one andheld opinions of others in contempt. He was not even a strong reasoneras the term is generally used. 

Wherein, then, lay that genius which makes him the outstanding Frenchmanand one of the supreme personages of history? Apparently he waspre-eminent because, more than almost any man who ever lived, he had thepower of harnessing his intuitive processes to his practical problems. 

He, it seems, was able to tap that vast, hidden and unsung reservoir ofknowledge which is the epitome of all that the human mind has graspedand which, though flowing through the subconscious mind of all, isavailable in its entirety to but few--and then in all too brief flashes. 

The theory of the quality of the human mind, with its every-day, jerkyreasoning powers and its submerged, smooth intuitions, finds itsstrongest support in such an individual. 

The subliminal mind, psychologists tell us, reaches out into daily lifewhen the normal intelligence is in abeyance--as in sleep or profoundrelaxation. This subliminal (below the threshold) mind is swifter thanthe conscious mind and over-reaches it in a flash. It is practicallyunerring. It is controlled by laws not yet grasped to any great extent. It is hidden from life, yet rules it. 

Mystics have the gift, in varying degree, of allowing their subconsciousminds to engulf and enfold them. The real poets have written in wordsthat live because, unknowingly, they have fallen back on and givenexpression to the accumulated hopes and visions of the mind of man. Theprophets have simply been those with the power to make their instinctsvocal. Genius, in all its phases, is seemingly but the measure of theextent to which men coördinate their two minds, their instinct and theirreason. 

Napoleon, in practically every crisis in which he functioned, struckthose about him as being in a dazed and unnatural condition. He hadthose same periods of semi-stupefaction that characterized Cćsar, Paul, Alexander, Goethe, Lincoln and other exceptional men at the time of orimmediately following a terrific use of their mental machinery. 

What, then, if, in the final analysis, it should be shown thatNapoleon's greatness lay in the fact that he did not take his own mindor any other man's mind too seriously?

Transcriber's notes:

Obvious typographical errors corrected. 

Obvious Punctuation errors standardised. 

Page 333 "It is quite plan that": As per original.