might about his proper work: he has the vice of idleness. Another does not control his liking for intoxicating liquors, and he falls into the vice of intemperance. A third man may have a violent or an irritable disposition which he does not control, and he falls into the vice of bad temper. So the vicious man practically sets up his own pleasure or wilfulness as the law by which he acts. He is not strong, but weak, in that he does not have the mastery over himself which full obedience to the moral law requires.

Virtue, on the contrary, originally meant manliness, and especially the distinctive excellence of a man, courage. The word always implies strength, and when it came to be applied to conduct, it marked power of will to control one's self, according to the law of right. The "cardinal," or chief, virtues were formerly said to be justice, prudence, temperance, and fortitude. Underlying all these is the notion of strength. Justice demands the ability to put down one's exorbitant wishes and to limit one's self, as well as other persons, each to his share. Prudence (from pro-vidence, looking forward) signifies a will-power which is sufficient to curb our own indolence or extravagance or carelessness in view of our probable needs or interests in the future. Temperance implies just such a restraint, such a stopping short of excess, with a view to the more immediate consequences. Fortitude is courage, active or passive, in doing or bearing. These four "virtues" (from the Latin vir, a man) are signs of manliness: they belong to the manly mind and the manly will. Injustice, imprudence, intemperance, and cowardice are equally marks of moral weakness in a person. A training in virtue, then, is like physical training: its object is to give strength and power of self-control. In one case we strengthen the muscles by use that they may be ready servants of the will in time of need. In the other case we strengthen our powers of judgment and

self-control in small matters, so that we may show ourselves equal to emergencies which require the full strength of a man in resisting evil.

"Conscience" is the word we use to denote each person's knowledge of the moral law, or his power of knowing it and passing judgment as to matters of morality. Its meaning, etymologically, is doubtful. "Knowing with," its two members (con-scio) signify, but "knowing with" what? Some call it a faculty which gives an immediate knowledge of right and wrong, and does not need instruction, but only opportunity to speak. Others would call it a faculty capable of enlightenment like any other faculty of the human mind. Into such discussions as to the ultimate nature of conscience we have no need to enter here. The final ground of right, whether in utility or in experience or in intuition, is another point which belongs to the theory of ethics, not to the practical morality which now concerns us. On the main matters of conduct there is virtual agreement among civilized men as to what is right and what is Why this, finally, is right or why that is finally wrong, is another matter, on which philosophers differ and dispute. The great majority of mankind are interested only in determining what to do, not what to think, in the sphere of conduct. It is agreed by all that children need instruction and advice as to right and wrong, and a great part of the conversation and the writing of grown people consists of the giving of advice or suggestion about moral matters. Thus whatever our consciences may be, in the last resort, we all need instruction as to the facts in any case where we have to act, and we need to reason clearly and logically from these facts in the light of moral principles generally admitted. Not only is this so; we need to have our interest in right-doing, by others and by ourselves, kept up and quickened by thinking earnestly about conduct and clearing our minds, and by purifying and strengthening

wrong.

our wills, so that we shall understand and do and love the right. If we are thus drawn toward the moral life with the full force of our nature, it is of little consequence how we define conscience, or what our theory is about its origin in the history of our race. Like the sense of beauty, the moral sense justifies itself by its results, not by its definitions: each aims at a practical result, not at the vindication of a theory. The virtuous life, all will say, is life in accordance with the highest laws of human nature. "Good" is, to us human beings, whatever is fit or suitable for man; moral good is what is fit or suitable for man to do or be in the society of his kind. The good man, morally speaking, is always good for something.

NOTES.

THE teacher will do well to trace the natural history of every word that conveys a sense of moral obligation. Should," he will find, for instance, is derived from the Teutonic root skal, to owe: thus its meaning is radically the same as that of "ought." 66 Must," a frequent word in this book, is often equivalent to "ought." One ought to do so and so to attain an end=one must do it. Right is noted as the straight and obvious course in these lines:

66

'Beauty may be the path to highest good,

And some successfully have it pursued.

Thou, who wouldst follow, be well warned to see

That way prove not a curvéd road to thee.

The straightest way, perhaps, which may be sought

Lies through the great highway men call I ought."

Right is simple, i. e., without folds; wrong is often duplicity, full of complexities.

"Man is saved by love and duty," said Amiel; "society rests upon conscience, not upon science." "A society can be founded only on respect for liberty and justice," M. Taine declares.

"A right" can be made out only when it can be proved to be some person's positive duty; "the right" is what all ought to do,

i. e., what they owe to one another, or to society at large. The variations of conscience in different times and countries (see Wake, The Evolution of Morality) correspond to the degrees of enlightenment reached by the human race; they prove that morality is a progressive art, not that right and wrong are delusions. Conscience needs enlightenment and training, like all other human powers. A high stage of progress is marked in Carlyle's saying: "There is in man a higher than love of happiness. He can do without happiness, and instead thereof find blessedness." Rights and Duties is a suggestive little manual by Mrs. K. G. Wells, and Mr. Smiles's Duty has an abundance of illustrative matter.

CHAPTER VIII.

HOME.

Home is the name we give to the place where our family life is lived. The family, made up of father, mother, children, and other blood-relatives, is the most important and most helpful of human associations. We are born into the family, and in our years of weakness we are supported and our life made stronger and better by the love and help of father and mother, and brothers and sisters. When we grow up, we marry and form other families, and become ourselves fathers and mothers, bringing up children, as we were brought up. Home, "sweet home," ought to be, as it is to most persons, the dearest spot on earth, where we find loving words and sympathy and kind deeds, and where we may return these, and do each his full part in this small and close society, —very powerful for good because it is a small body and the "life together" is here intimate and continuous. We have certain hours for work away from our homes; we associate with others in school, or business, or travel, and in divers other ways; but at home we not only eat at the same board and sleep under the same roof, but we know one another and can help and love one another day after day, and year after year, until in the family we die, as into the family we were born. "Home" is the sweetest and strongest word in our language, because it stands for so much of love and fellow-service, for the tenderest and fairest side of our life.

The family, which makes the home, is a natural institution, the outgrowth of our deepest human nature.