C THE JAMES K. MOFFITT FUND. LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. GIFT OF JAMES KENNEDY MOFFITT OF THE CLASS OF '86. Accession No. I 0.5 Q 3 3 Class No. \ S4 ^ MORAL CULTURE AS A SCIENCE BY THEODA WILKINS, M.D. AND BERTHA S. WILKINS SAN FRANCISCO THE WHITAKER AND RAY COMPANY (INCORPORATED) 1900 COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY BERTHA S. WILKINS. PREFACE. THE great necessity for a definite plan of presenting the subject of Ethics to children in the public schools has led to the preparation of this treatise. The fact that a work was needed which should be practical, and yet wide in its range, has been constantly kept in mind. For the convenience of readers, the book has been divided into three parts, with the addition of an ap- pendix. In the first part, those fundamental psychological facts which have a bearing especially upon ethical development have been set forth, as it seemed neces- sary that they be kept in mind by the reader. In the second part, the nature of the various virtues, and practical suggestions for teaching them, are considered, while the ethical aspect of school discipline and of our common-school branches of study are discussed in the third part. The MS. of this work has been carefully reviewed by educational experts, and the conclusions reached have been pronounced correct, without exception. As to the manner of presenting them there has been a difference of opinion. The popular method of illustrating ethical truths by stories, for children as well as for adults, is con- sidered by far the most successful one, and doubt was expressed as to the possibility of teaching ethics in any other way. 3 105033 4 Preface. So much is being done in this field by wholesome publications like the Youth's Companion and many series of books, that work of this kind seemed super- fluous, although a few illustrative stories for children are appended to this work. Ethical culture obtained in this way is necessarily disconnected and fragmentary. Educators, be they parents, teachers, or settlement workers, need a clear, connected, and scientific grasp of the subject as a whole; this we have tried to give, employing the analytical treatment of parts while preserving the unity of the whole. We hope that the approval of our readers may justify our method of presentation. B. S. W. CONTENTS. PAGE INTRODUCTION 7 PART FIRST. CHAP. I. WHAT is MORALITY? 13 II. THE APPETITES OP THE BODY 17 III. THE DESIRES OF THE MIND 22 IV. ATTRIBUTES AND EMOTIONS 29 V. MENTAL AND MORAL TRAINING 35 VI. MORALITY IN SCHOOL 40 VII. LOVE AND FEAR 47 VIII. CANT AND MORALIZING 59 PART SECOND. CHAP. I. THE PERSONAL VIRTUES 61 II. How TO TEACH THE PERSONAL VIRTUES ... 68 III. THE IDEAL VIRTUES 87 IV. THE SOCIAL VIRTUES 95 PART THIRD. CHAP. I. METHODS OF REACHING THE CHILD 108 II. SCHOOL GOVERNMENT IN ITS RELATION TO MORAL TRAINING 124 III. THE ETHICAL IN OUR COMMON SCHOOL STUDIES . 136 IV. REFLECTIONS 139 APPENDIX. MARTIN'S THINKING 149 COBWEBS 156 THE MINER'S SON 168 5 Contents. " DOCTOR CHARLES" 176 CONSIDERATION 180 KINDNESS 183 FRANK'S LESSON 188 How A GLACIER ANSWERED A QUESTION 193 MISCELLANEOUS PROVERBS 194 QUOTATIONS 196 INTRODUCTION. MORALITY has, up to the present time, been taught in public schools only incidentally as misdemeanors were committed and occasion arose for their correc- tion. It has never been made a subject of regular systematic instruction. For that reason it has made comparatively little impression upon the minds of children. Those who were dependent for their in- struction in this direction upon the public schools have therefore received but vague and uncertain ideas regarding their moral nature and duties. A systematic education includes, besides mental and physical training, also moral culture. Such an education the state is in duty bound to give to its future citizens. To invest this subject of morality with its rightful dignity and importance in the eyes of school chil- dren, certain regular hours should be set aside for the study of its guiding principles. Here, as elsewhere, concentration of thought is indispensable for the thorough understanding and mastery of the subject. Only one thing at a time can be studied. Inciden- tally, of course, both oral and written language is taught most effectively, as moral instruction awakens many thoughts of vital interest in the child's mind to which he will give spontaneous utterance. But to the child, it is studying only the great subject of how to do right, how to live. These moral principles 7 8 Moral Culture as a Science. must be studied as thoroughly as those of any other branch of knowledge. This course of regular instruc- tion would dispel the utter ignorance on the subject, which is now too often the cause of immorality. Ignorance could then, at least, no longer be pleaded as an excuse for wrong-doing. But many earnest teachers are opposed to the spe- cial study of morality in our public schools. " Do not moralize," is their plea. The answer is, Teaching the laws and principles of moral conduct is not moralizing. It is giving information which the state owes its future citizens. No one can be, in justice, expected to obey the laws of which he is ignorant, and certainly such ignorance is more harmful in its effect than any other. Only when the nation as a whole understands, as it does not now, the principles which should govern the actions of men, can it attain an elevated moral standpoint. In the universities and in some high schools, ethics are taught; but it is believed by many thoughtful edu- cators that younger children should not be taught ethics, excepting incidentally in connection with school government. They fear that it will lead to morbid introspection in the child, and to what they are pleased to call the "curse of the New England conscience," which makes its unfortunate possessor feel continually " under condemnation." Now it is not only to gain a knowledge of moral principles, but also to avoid the possibility of falling into such a pitiable condition of mind, that the plea for broad, comprehensive moral culture is made. A mind accustomed to finding the principles of right Introduction. 9 which underlie even every-day questions will learn to see the true proportion of things, and will never be weighed down by a sense of wrong when this is un- just to itself. Moreover, what is this much- to-be- feared New England conscience? Its very existence simply proves that moral lessons, taught in early childhood, cannot easily be eradicated. "As the twig is bent, the tree is inclined." In the truth of this old adage the Pilgrim Fathers believed. New England parents of former times brought up their children in the name and in the fear of God; but it was in the fear of an angry, jealous God, whose threatening presence was always with them. They succeeded in rearing a race strong, stern, and unflinch- ing in all matters of religion. ( This does not mean that they were necessarily honest and just. Their treatment of the Indians, of the Quakers, or any others differing from them in religious matters, is notorious.) Times have changed. Wo no longer fear an angry God, but we pray to a loving Father, who wishes us to see in every man His child, our brother, whom we are to love as ourselves. Instead of narrow com- mands and precepts with which the Puritan was bound, we teach broad principles of the Ideal Right, and call upon every individual to formulate the laws of his own conduct accordingly. We can learn from the Puritans that firm faithfulness with which they impressed their precepts upon the young minds, how- ever " uncouth Time may have rendered their Right." Little children can well understand what is right and wrong, and why it is so. They have to live their lives and form habits which will influence their future. 10 Moral Culture as a Science. They have a free will, and can act as they decide, mak- ing their existence either a blessing or a torment to all around them. Why, then, should they not be taught the principles of morality as far as they can understand them? A child begins to lead its own inner life, it learns to reason about things, as soon as it begins to think, and it thus becomes the center of a circle from which its influence extends either for good or for evil. There is no stand-still in moral life. Either backward or forward men must go. Is it right, then, to let children grow up all the while working at the very foundation of their lives, without giving them the principles according to which they should build? Everything received as truth in child- hood, that enters into the life and activities of the young mind, retains through all the years of later life a poetic charm which no lessons of after years can equal. If the experience of the man confirms the truth of the child's instructions, he will very often live up to them more and more. Especially is this the case with the young, earnest men and women who have children to train. The eager demands of the little ones make them reach far back into their child- hood to find those things which have been helpful to them in their own moral development. That the principles of true morality should be taught in the public schools, no one will doubt, who has ob- served the foolish manner in which most children are trained at home. Few parents know what real moral culture is. They have frequently only very vague no- tions of Right or Wrong, but in a general way they want their children to do the one and avoid the other, Introduction. 11 though they are, as a rule, not impartial enough to judge the shortcomings of their own children justly. Many parents, moreover, often laugh at serious faults when in good humor, and punish innocent doings severely when they happen to be irritable. In fact, very few parents have themselves ever had any special moral instruction, and consequently they cannot give it to their children. It is like the mental instruction which the child receives at home. A few parents know how to teach, and their children make rapid pro- gress, but in most cases the home training is deficient, and for the education of the people we must depend upon good schools for moral as well as mental devel- opment. Upon the teachers of our public schools must de- pend much of the progress in moral lines which all patriotic citizens fondly hope may raise our national character above anything dreamed of so far. At present, conditions for rational school work are hard, but with the elevation of public morals will come the ideal school, in which the kindergarten spirit and the kindergarten conditions as to time, numbers, and materials furnished for work will be realities. If teachers will enter into the best spirit of our time, that which is to be found in the writings of Charles Kingsley, James Russell Lowell, Thomas Hughes, and Jane Addams, and carry into their school life this same magnificent sympathy with all their kind, this same confidence in all humanity, whether rich or poor, old or young, they will find that teaching moral principles will become the happiest work of their lives. School will not drag upon their hands; a new 12 Moral Culture as a Science. meaning and a higher significance will appear about even every-day occurrences. Their eyes will be opened, and they will see the rich fields waiting for the sower to scatter good seeds before the weeds have had time to cover the land! Although this book was designed to lead teachers to realize the necessity of and to give some practical help in teaching moral principles, yet it is not ex- pected nor desired that teachers will accept the views presented without questioning their correctness. On the contrary, it is hoped that all readers may, to their own satisfaction, verify all the conclusions reached, and act accordingly. MORAL CULTURE AS A SCIENCE. ^ftrV Watt Jttst OF THE > UNIVERSITY CHAPTER I. WHAT IS MORALITY? IN every human being there exists an innate sense that some acts are less right to perform than others; that there is a right and a wrong. We recognize this sense in the little child, and find it also in the savage. When this sense is cultivated it becomes moral judgment. Associated with this there is a feeling, also inborn, which prompts us to do the right and fear the wrong; this is called con- science. These instincts are the basis of all morality, and on this basis we must build the science of moral- ity, i.e., the knowledge of that which is right accord- ing to our present conception of the word. This knowledge of right is not inborn, but varies with the age and education of the individual, and the spirit of the time in which he may live. From history we learn of many unjust and terrible deeds committed under the impression that they were right. Even now our civilization allows wrongs to be committed which will seem inhuman and savage in a hundred years. In countries that we call "civil- ized," the teachings of Christ are accepted theoreti- cally as the highest conceptions of morality. They are summed up in the great command, " Love the Lord thy God above all, and thy neighbor as thyself." 13 14 Moral Culture as a Science. These form the foundation upon which, in theory, the right and wrong are based and by which we meas- ure the righteousness of any act. In the United States, the constitution separates church and state, and for that reason religion cannot be taught in the public schools, for many persons con- sider the belief in God a superstition, and do not want their children to hear of it in school. Other parents object to having their children taught even the sim- plest religious principles by any but members of their own denomination. Therefore the teaching of a per- sonal God must be left to home and church; but no parents will object to having their children taught the laws of God, Love, Truth, Justice, Honesty, and Hu- mility, for these are the foundation of all our con- ceptions of right at the present time. The law of Moses, " Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart," is the expression of our inborn longing for something that is higher and better than that which we have. The desire for the ideal expresses itself in it; therefore we may call truth, honesty, hu- mility, and justness the ideal virtues. They are to the character what temper is to steel and brilliancy to the diamond. The temper makes the difference between steel and pig-iron; the brilliancy distinguishes the stone from glass. Thus love of truth and right belongs to the noble character, above the time-server and man of policy. The second great ethical law that we have accepted is, " Love thy neighbor as thyself." Not with your whole heart, as you love truth and right, but as your- self; willing to give to him what you wish that he should give to you, help, respect, and consideration. What is Morality f 15 The instinctive desire for the sympathy and love of others which all possess, is one of the earliest manifes- tations of the child's moral nature. Its reciprocal, love of man, is the source of the social virtues, which, by their general exercise, bring most of pleasure and happiness into the human life. Their key-note is the Golden Rule, "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you," and the life that is without them may be pronounced a partial failure, with but little true happiness in it. The virtues founded on the love of man, constituting the group of social vir- tues, include benevolence, kindness, generosity, grati- tude, etc. Naturally, children want to do right; their hearts glow when they hear of a noble, generous deed, and they want to imitate it. They love their parents and friends, and are glad to show this love to them. But there is so much pleasure to be had from the fulfill- ment of the desires, so often advantages of a certain kind to be gained by wrong-doing, that if they have not learned to control their love of pleasure, they can- not do right. Not until they have learned to do right by training and strengthening the will to listen to the dictates of judgment and conscience, are they able to overcome their passions in the time of temptation, and make of these stepping-stones to a higher life. Little by little the will must be trained, as an ath- lete is trained for his feats of endurance. Only in this way can children learn the practice of self-control in their daily life. The virtues that flow more particularly from self- control may be called the personal virtues, for they 16 Moral Culture as a Science. refer more directly to the person himself. They are temperance, diligence, courage, chastity, patience, cheerfulness, etc. The foundation of all virtues is self-control; for a man who cannot control his pas- sions and emotions can never be depended upon. He may love his fellow-men, he may love right and wish to follow it, yet his passions and emotions present their claims, and not having learned to deny or con- trol them, his good intentions come to naught. Self- control is the most difficult lesson to learn. Natural instinct helps children to love the other virtues, but the control of self is uphill work. Yet, continual self-control of desires and pleasures, even of their thoughts and of their wishes, is the price which they must pay for the mastery over self. This continual self-control is against all natural impulses. But is not the victory over self worth the price that it costs? Henry More happily expresses the gain in the follow- ing words: " By persisting in a habit of self-denial, we shall, beyond what I can express, increase the inward pow- ers of the mind, and shall produce that cheerfulness and greatness of spirit as will fit us for all good pur- poses; and shall not have lost pleasure, but changed it; the soul being then filled with its own intrinsic pleasures." CHAPTER II. THE APPETITES OF THE BODY. IN moral culture, the Appetites of the Body and the Desires and Emotions of the Mind are the factors with i which we have to deal. The Appetites of the Body, four in number, are ne- cessary for the existence of the individual and the race. Man shares them with every organism possessing life, not only with the lower animals, but also with plants. They are, The Appetite for Nourishment (air, food, drink). For Activity. For Rest. For Reproduction. Thus it is, without doubt, a moral duty to take as much fresh air and wholesome nourishment as the welfare of the body demands. Nature has made the fulfillment of this duty so pleasant that man often eats and drinks more than the body can assimilate, or food which he knows to be unwholesome, though pleasing to the palate. Sometimes, the natural appe- tite is allowed to become a passion, which may de- stroy the power of the will, leaving its poor victim a wreck. THE APPETITE FOR FOOD. The deeire for nour- ishment, expressed by thirst, is the first to appear in independent life, as well in the little human baby as in the baby plant. Indeed, the absorption of nutri- 17 18 Moral Culture as a Science. live material from a solution, and the removal of waste matter, seem to be the fundamental acts of that unex- plained mystery, Life, in whatever stage of existence it may be found. This appetite includes the desire for shelter and clothing, which, indirectly, may be said to nourish the body by economizing the expenditure of vital force, and therefore of nourishment necessary to pro- duce this force. This first-developed and most funda- mental appetite in man has become the source of all industrial advances that have been made through the progress of civilization, as it is also the source of the ambition for wealth. FOR ACTIVITY. Activity of the body is necessary for its growth and perfect development. No muscle will develop and increase as it should, unless it is in active use, and a child that is for the most part kept quiet indoors remains weak and small. Muscular ex- ercise increases the force of circulation, brings a greater blood supply to every tissue, and so promotes the active changes which are necessary for growth and health. The desire for activity is therefore universally found. The smallest baby executes purposeless move- ments with its limbs, and mothers know that the child that does not "kick" is not " all right. " Even trees growing in exposed places are more gnarled, perhaps, but also stronger, tougher, and more vigorous, than others of the same species growing in sheltered loca- tions. Activity, carried to excess, may degenerate into de- structiveness. By producing a passion for out-of-door sports at all costs, it may interfere with the child's The Appetites of the Body. 19 mental development, and lessen or destroy his useful- ness as an individual. FOR REST. The appetite for rest is the sequel and counterpart of that for activity. What a delicious feeling of relief is produced hy rest, after a busy day, when the body is thoroughly fatigued. Rest, under such circumstances, is generally accompanied by a deep and refreshing sleep. The child sleeps in its mother's arms; the dog curls up and sleeps in the sun- shine; at night, the flowers close, the leaves fold up, and plants, as well as animals, appear to rest. The word " rest " presupposes a previous exertion. The appetite for rest may, however, and in later life too often does, degenerate into indolence, a desire for rest without previous exertion. While pleasure af- forded by rest after activity is one of the kind gifts of nature to promote human welfare and happiness, in- dolence will slowly, but surely, sap away all life and energy, every high and noble feeling, leaving its vic- tim a mere vegetating being, too often to fall an easily yielding prey to the other appetites, excepting that for activity. Perhaps no other appetite exerts such a strong influence over a great many, otherwise good, conscientious persons; laziness enters as a dry-rot into many lives. REPRODUCTION. The three appetites above de- scribed are necessary for the well-being of the indi- vidual. They therefore appear with the first dawn of life. That for reproduction has for its object the perpetuation of the race, and does not appear in normal individuals until the age of maturity. Like the others, it exists in a rudimentary form among plants. Among 20 Moral Culture as a Science. the higher animals it develops not only into a true conjugal love, but often into a self-sacrificing love for the offspring. In man, developed and expanded, it becomes the source of the noblest and most enduring feelings of his nature, the pure love between hus- band and wife, and strong, self-forgetful, parental love. This appetite is sometimes found active in children, either from an inherited nervous constitution (which should be treated by hygienic and other measures), or more generally because it has been forced into its pre- cocious development by bad habits. Prominent among the latter is the pernicious one of "teasing" or ban- tering a child because of some real or fancied prefer- ence for a child of the opposite sex. This habit is only too often indulged in by young and old, including even teachers, yet nothing could be more mischievous in its effects upon the young mind. Such a course prematurely awakens desires, which, if left to their natural growth, may become the source of the purest happiness. But thus early to awaken what nature intended to lie dormant is like tearing open the bud of a flower: even if the bud is not destroyed, yet there- after it can never attain to that perfection of beauty which it might have reached had it been left to de- velop naturally. When young people have passed the period of childhood without having lost that purity of feeling which is their rightful inheritance, they will acquire a certain reserve, a reticent modesty, which nature provides as a protector against the too rapid development of this instinct. What a proof of the sacred beauty of conjugal relation is it, that even The Appetites of the Body. 21 plants are arrayed in gorgeous splendor at the time of their marriage! As long as these appetites are servants under the control of Will and Judgment, they contribute in a great measure to the enjoyment of life, but when any one of them becomes master, it changes into a passion and leads towards mental and physical destruction. CHAPTER III. THE DESIRES OF THE MIND. THE Desires of the Mind are analogous to those of the body, and like them may be classified into, The Desire for Mental Nourishment. For Activity. For Rest. For Reproduction. Animals possess them in a rudimentary form. THE DESIRE FOR MENTAL NOURISHMENT. This de- sire shows itself (a) as a thirst for knowledge, and (b) as curiosity; the former representing the desire for scientific knowledge or any higher information, the latter, that for an acquaintance with the surroundings and personal affairs of others. Like its physical analogue, this desire appears very early, being one of the first manifestations of the awakening mind. Children eagerly accept all knowl- edge presented to them, and are gifted with acute powers of observation; indeed, we may measure the youthfulness and vigor of the mind in later years by the degree of its receptivity for new facts and theories. A distinct form of this instinct is the desire for moral nourishment, which is generally a marked character- istic, especially of the youthful mind. All normal per- sons, young or old, enjoy hearing or reading of deeds of heroism, self-sacrifice, or other virtues. The desire for knowledge, when not properly di- 22 The Desires of the Mind. 23 reeled into useful channels, may become perverted into idle curiosity and inquisitiveness. The mind that has good wholesome work to do will rarely waste valuable time over other people's affairs. But when the ab- sorbing and important lines of knowledge are closed against it, this desire finds vent in a curious prying into the minor matters of life. The more penetrating and thirsty for knowledge a mind is, the more capable of following legitimate lines of investigation when the opportunities are given, the more prying and curious will it become when the avenues for obtaining useful information are cut off, and it will become so in exact proportion to the closing up of these avenues. This is the reason why curiosity has been more often a fault of woman than of man. She was confined to the narrow limits of her household; her life was con- tracted; knowledge of an elevating, practical kind, or an interest and an influence upon the practical issues of the day, were too often forbidden her by public opinion. But nature has endowed her, like her brother, with a thirst for knowledge, and baffled in its efforts to get at the great, moving truths of the world, it turns into a thousand small, often degrading, channels, where this noble desire, like a stream turned into a swamp, spends itself in doing harm rather than good. THE DESIRE FOR MENTAL ACTIVITY. Like the pre- ceding, this is manifested at an early period. Very small children like to learn. As they grow older, they enjoy riddles, arithmetical problems, " questions on the map, " in geography, etc. Moderate activity of the mind is pleasant and exhilarating to almost every one, though the direction it takes may be a perverted one. 24 Moral Culture as a Science. This desire, combined with the preceding one, is the source of all scientific investigation, and its value in the progress of the race cannot be overestimated. Like the preceding, it also has a moral aspect, and can be made of much use in the training of the child. Who does not enjoy the consciousness of having done a good deed? The satisfaction experienced when a person has stepped out of his ordinary course to per- form some kind of heroic or self-sacrificing act invites to a repetition of the act, i.e., to moral activity. THE DESIRE FOR MENTAL REST. This is the sequence of activity in a normal mind, but mental rest need not always mean entire mental inactivity. The mind often turns from one employment to an- other, and is rested thereby, a fact which teachers make use of freely at the present time. But as there is a physical, so there is a mental indolence, which does much harm, weakening and degrading the mind, and rendering it unfit for useful work. This is fos- tered by mental idleness, the pursuance of unworthy objects which do not tax the mental powers, above all, by day dreaming, the idle conjuring up before the mind's eye of images and pictures picked up from light literature, and of which the first person is always the hero. Nothing is more harmful to the mind than this sort of dreaming. Mental indolence it is which leads people blindly to accept another's statement, es- pecially when presented with sufficient force and posi- tiveness, without investigating its truth or falsity. Mental indolence is not common among children, but it may be produced by enforcing a too implicit ac- ceptance of facts or statements which they do not un- derstand. The Desires of the Mind. 25 From a moral point of view, there is much of this indolence. Men and women too often accept the con- clusions and rules of conduct formulated for them by those "in authority." This is easy, and saves them the trouble of carefully thinking out these things for them- selves. This refers as well to a destructive as to a constructive line of thought, i.e., as well to those who destroy or deny accepted doctrines as to those who attempt to establish them. Ingersoll has propor- tionally as many unthinking followers, who repeat his phrases and arguments in a parrot-like manner, as are found in any religious sect or denomination. THE DESIRE FOR REPRODUCTION. This is, perhaps, one of the strongest of mental desires. The child, in his eager stories, tries to reproduce what he has seen, or upon his slate attempts to picture the objects which surround him; the man copies what he has seen others do. Nearly every act of life is a reproduction of one that has been performed before, either by the in- dividual himself, or by some one else from whom he has consciously or unconsciously adopted it. Imitation and Habit are two strong faculties which grow from this desire, and they enter deeply into every life for good or for evil, to elevate or to degrade. From a moral point of view, this desire is of the widest importance, for Imitation and Habit influence the lives of men, even against their better judgment. IMITATION. When a child often hears of or sees any certain deed committed, after a time memory will bring it up, and imitation causes the involuntary de- sire to do the same thing. This may occur, even though the act be a frightful one, which at first 26 Moral Culture as a Science. awakened only horror and disgust. Imitation may, in this way, lead to actual deeds of violence and epi- demics of crime. In the words of Pope, "Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen. Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace." For this reason the detailed relation of such deeds in the newspapers details which are greedily de- voured by the majority of uncultivated minds, old and young so often develops criminals and breeds crime. On the other hand, if the action presented to the mind is such a one as to awaken admiration, it will equally stimulate imitation, and so may become the source of deeds of heroism, self-denial, and other virtues. This principle was understood and acted upon by the savage and barbaric nations of all times and coun- tries, the ancient Scandinavians, the Anglo-Saxons, the Greeks, the Indians; in fact, all, so far as known. By singing the deeds of heroism and prowess per- formed by men of bygone days, their bards sought to incite the men of their time to courage, and to the de- termination to equal or surpass the deeds of the heroes of their songs. Some of our most beautiful poems have come to us in this way, as those of Homer, the Nibelungen Lied, the Frithjofs Saga, and many others. HABIT. " Habits begin as cobwebs and end as iron chains." Habit is organic memory, i.e., a memory residing in or impression made upon the various nerve cells and fibers, muscle fibers, and other tissue elements The Desires of the Mind. 27 which took part in the performance of any certain act, and which makes every repetition of the act easier. Habit, then, is a tendency to reperform acts once per- formed, either mental, moral, or physical. Thus we have physical habits, such as awakening at a certain hour, performing certain movements, or "tricks" of manner, etc. We have mental habits. One man will take all sorts of "short-cuts" in solving an arith- metical problem, another goes the roundabout way: one man's habits of thought are quick, direct, inci- sive; another's, slow and wandering from the point. We have moral habits: one person will do as the im- pulse prompts him, and consider afterward; another will not consider at all; a third considers beforehand, "What will they say if I do this?" a fourth, "Is it right?" In the performance of any, even the simplest, act, various parts of the brain and body must work to- gether. The volitional centers in the brain send their orders, by certain association fibers, to the lower cen- ters controlling the various muscles to be employed, and these in turn transmit them by various stages to the latter. The performance of the act will at first be comparatively slow and awkward, but with every rep- etition it becomes more and more easy, and a path is formed along which each succeeding impulse passes with increasing facility. Thus a wagon, passing for the first time over an unbroken prairie, finds the road rough and uneven, and leaves but a faint trace behind; yet if the same road be traveled every day, it soon becomes well marked, and is more and more easily followed. 28 Moral Culture as a Science. How difficult are the first steps in learning to per- form on the piano; how laborious to find the association paths; how must each finger, separately, be taught to do its part; yet when the habit is established, these paths are so well worn that consciousness becomes en- tirely unnecessary in the performance of the act. So it is with all habits, and fortunate is the person who has been trained from childhood to habits of cheerfulness, courtesy, and diligence. " Habits begin as cobwebs and end as iron chains." The proverb ex- presses well the harm that may be done by the forma- tion of evil habits, and shows the great importance of habit in moral training. Yet habits may change when the surroundings which produced them change, and new ones may be formed, perhaps the opposite of those first contracted. Therefore, mere good habits must not be confounded with true moral culture, which, founded on principles, will never change, except with the honest conviction of the person. CHAPTER IV. ATTRIBUTES AND EMOTIONS. THE mind has certain attributes, and feels certain emotions. Among the most important of the former are Reason, Faith, and Imagination. REASON ( Vernunft) is here used to denote the power of abstract thought, and the faculty of discovering the relations between cause and effect. It lifts man above nature, so that he can study her laws and make her powers his servants. It also enables him to study the faculties of the soul, and so to adjust cause and effect that the character may become such as his judgment approves of. One of the manifestations of reason is the power of judgment, which, properly educated and applied, becomes a most important guide to a useful and moral life. FAITH is here used to denote that power or faculty of the human mind by which it is led to a belief in a Su- preme Being, over and above nature, but whose exist- ence does not admit of direct and absolute proof by a process of reasoning. Its tenets, too, cannot be proven beyond a doubt by evidence perceptible to the senses. Individual opinions regarding the supernatural, therefore, vary much, from a complete denial of its existence to a belief of its intervention in the most trivial occurrences of daily life. Every man has his own faith, then, the truth of which, however, he may 30 Moral Culture as a Science. not be able to prove satisfactorily to any one else, as he himself cannot be readily convinced of error. IMAGINATION. This is one of the most important of the mental attributes, as an agent, either of advance or retrogression. Without imagination no great ad- vance in science has ever been made, for the imagina- tion first penetrates into the unknown, divining the possibilities, then reason steps in and verifies or dis- proves them. By acting upon the imagination, the child and the man may each be aroused to deeds of which he is ordinarily incapable, deeds which may either elevate him above his usual self or de- grade him below it. Excitation of this faculty alone, without the concomitant action of reason and judgment, is harmful, and causes one of the highest faculties of the human mind to degenerate into idle phantasy. When the unguided imagination is allowed to dwell upon low subjects, it becomes the cause of mental degradation, and often the source of evil habits. The danger of sensational literature lies greatly in this power it possesses of exciting the imagination by the impure images it calls up. This may also occur with literature intended only for instructive purposes, when the mind is poorly balanced. Important among the emotions are, Selfishness, Love, Fear. SELFISHNESS, or Love of Self, is by nature one of the mainsprings of man's actions. Every man is to him- self the center around which the whole universe re- volves. As every man has not only his own zenith, which, diverging from every other man's, reaches into Attributes and Emotions. 31 infinity, but also his own nadir, which unites him at the center of the earth with all his fellow-men, so he has an inner life, all his own, which never does and never can become merged into another's, besides, also, a deep-rooted instinct which binds him to his fellow- creatures. The first natural impulse of man, springing from selfishness, is to obtain for himself whatever he de- sires. A baby attempts to put into its mouth every- thing that it covets, instinctively trying thus to make it its own, until it learns by experience that that re- ceptacle is too small for such a purpose. Few healthy babies are willing to give up what they want, but they fight for it with voice and fist. Under careful training, a child may learn to give up to others, and often without a struggle, as it learns to walk and speak, parents perhaps not even realizing what a great lesson they have taught. When a child is three or four years old it is usually more generous, and willing to share with its friends the gifts love has bestowed. It has learned to love others, and the desire to give them pleasure restrains its selfish impulses; but they appear again in the childish craving for approbation and praise for its generosity. When selfishness alone is the source of man's in- stincts, they are of a low order. Covetousness, Avarice, Revenge, Pride, Envy, Hatred, Vanity, are some of its children. Selfishness has its proper place in the human economy, like every other natural im- pulse, but it must be kept within bounds or it will mar the whole character. LOVE. This is here used to denote the kindly 32 Moral Culture as a Science. feelings which man entertains toward his fellow-men, without thought of any selfish gratification. Love is the greatest antagonist of selfishness, counteracting its desires and neutralizing its effects. It is the source of filial affection, friendship, patriotism, kindness, gene- rosity, patience, and all kindred virtues; it should be the foundation upon which the relations of the family, of society, and of the state are based. Love alone, however, untempered by a wholesome amount of selfishness, may make the individual as unjust to himself as selfishness, unrestrained by love, makes him towards others. Selfishness contracts the whole universe into the circle of its own narrow de- sires, while love widens the circle of its sympathies to take in the world. It is best that both be united in due proportion. FEAR. As a guard between the physical and men- tal attributes stands the powerful instinct of self- preservation, and its representative among the feelings, Fear. It is this instinct which tends to preserve the union between body and soul, causing them to shrink from dissolution, which means death. Through fear, man flies instinctively from threatening danger. Phys- ical fear, being a horror of death, becomes preserva- tive of life, and few living creatures, men or animals, would reach old age, were they without this useful instinct. It has, therefore, a well-defined place in the economy of nature, and it is man's duty to listen to its warnings and obey its impulses as controlled by will and judgment, but these should not be over- powering, lest cowardice be the result. From a moral aspect, fear is at the root of much Attributes and Emotions. 33 untruthfulness of word and deed. Fear of death and of danger, of losing property and friends, of being understood or misunderstood, may be strong, and to avoid the things feared, man resorts to subterfuges and falsehoods of which he is ashamed. To justify these, he gives them other names, calling cowardice, prudence; hypocrisy, kindness; etc. But fear, edu- cated, ennobled, and brought under the control of the will, becomes the safeguard of conscience by producing a horror of any wrong which might lead toward moral death, the loss of honor and self-respect. These, then, are the most important principles which make up man's economy, a little common- wealth in itself, with ruler and subjects of different degrees. Chief executive is the Will. He is the King, in whom all responsibility centers, and Judgment sits as Queen by his side, to guide and direct him. Counsel- ors are Love, Conscience, and Reason, to whom King and Queen may turn in perplexing cases. The sub- jects are the appetites and desires of body and mind. These must have in Selfishness a representative at Court, but he should be kept in the background, to be considered, but rarely to become prominent. Such is the kingdom of man, ordered as it should be. Unfortunately, the Will is often weak, the Judg- ment uncertain. Too often the Queen's calm voice is drowned in the clamor of passions and appetites. Too often the King, unheeding those in high positions, lends his ear to the lowest, but also the most fawning, of his counselors, Selfishness, and allows first one and then the other of his constituents to usurp the kingly 34 Moral Culture as a Science. power, while he sits idly by on his throne, or even lends the sanction of his authority to the rebellious outbreak. The object of all moral culture is to train Will and Judgment for the high positions, that they may be able to keep their subjects under control, in and of themselves, without outside help; for the rulers who depend on help from without to govern their own kingdom sit on tottering thrones, and are at the mercy of changing circumstances. Only those who in themselves have the power of perfect control can never be dethroned. CHAPTER V. MENTAL AND MORAL TRAINING. EVERY man has a physical, a mental, and a moral nature, but these differ widely in the cultivation and prominence they should receive. The physical nature should have its due consideration and training, but its appetites should never rise to the position of de- manding absorbing attention; nor is excess of refine- ment of these appetites of special benefit to the body, but quite often the reverse. Thus the structure of the body will be the same in the millionaire who dines at Delmonico's on turtle soup and pate de fois gras, and in the workman who sits by the roadside eating his bread and cheese; provided both meals contain the necessary nutriment, and provided in both cases the appetite is restrained within the proper limits, pro- visions which are more likely to be fulfilled in the case of the workman than in that of the millionaire. From both meals nature will elaborate the material necessary for building up the tissues of the body. But the mental, and still more the moral, nature with which we are here specially concerned varies much with the nature of the food received. A person with an active, inquiring mind may become an ardent seeker after or a disseminator of useful knowledge, or an inveterate gossip, according to his opportunities for acquiring information. A person with an enthusiastic, imaginative mind may become a power for good in 35 36 Moral Culture as a Science. his community by being taught to appreciate and ad- mire the characteristics of such persons as George Washington, Sister Dora, or Ralph Waldo Emerson, or he may become a dangerous criminal by feeding upon accounts of the exploits of the heroes of the blood-and-thunder literature of the day, and trying to imitate them. What a gain, then, in every sense, is not moral cul- ture to the individual? What a difference is there not between the well-developed and controlled faculties of the morally refined, and the rude selfishness of a morally unrefined character? Of course, neither out- ward polish nor mere intellectual training is here re- ferred to, but true moral culture, which means a very different thing. Abraham Lincoln, even while a rude woodchopper, had a noble nature, for he strove after the best and highest, while George IV, though because of his polished manners styled the " first gentleman of Europe, " at heart was coarse and unrefined. The education and advance of the mental nature differ widely from those of the moral. Science has laws which can be learned, rules which can be fol- lowed. By the aid of definite rules in mathematics, every problem in that science may be solved, even by those who never, of themselves, could have dis- covered the laws or formulated the rules by which the work is done. So men of the present day can appropriate to their own use the scientific discoveries of bygone ages in every path of intellectual advance- ment. This, however, is not true, in the same sense, of moral education. A man may have the best instruction re- Mental and Moral Training. 37 garding his moral duties, may know well the conse- quences of wrong-doing, and still lack the power, or even the will, to do right. These must be separately developed in each person; every one must, for himself, learn to avoid the pitfalls that await him; every one, anew, must learn to control the appetites and desires; and the knowledge that the same education has been gained, that the same pitfalls have been avoided, that the same passions have been controlled, by thousands of others before him will only slightly aid him in his moral career. The scientific explorer, who, by investigation, opens up new fields of research to the inquiring mind, may be compared to the pioneer, who, traveling the paths discovered by former explorers, enters the wilderness of unexplained facts and undemonstrated theories. Some of these he may explain, clearing up the myste- ries which surrounded them, so that those who follow him, finding the obstructions removed, can, in their turn, approach new problems, which, the farther they advance, the loftier arise. The moral reformer, on the other hand, is like the leader of a fleet of ships, which, turned from its course by the storms of passions, and tossed by the waves of feeling, is trying to gain the haven of noble manhood. The port is not unknown, but no definite path leading to it can be pointed out. Each ship must find its own course, fight its own battles with wind and wave; and it depends upon the skill and wisdom of its master, Will, whether it reach the port in safety, or perish on the high seas. The leader can point out to the others how to escape the storm, quiet 38 Moral Culture as a Science. the waves, and avoid the dangers lurking in the deep; he can supply a chart, that those who have strayed from the right course may return to it; but that is all he can do. He cannot point out a safe and sure path which every one may follow. This is the great difference between mental and moral progress. Intellectually, the human race can forever advance, until Science rm,y reach a height of which the present generation has no conception; morally, every person must go over the same ground, overcome the same temptations, and yet can reach only the same heights which noble men have attained before. The field of scientific research only a few gifted need enter; the rest can use what these discover: but the moral problems each individual must solve for himself, and according to his success does he sink or rise in the scale of humanity. It does not follow from the above that man cannot influence man in his moral nature; indeed, the moral influence which every one exerts upon his neighbors for good or evil, happiness or unhappiness, is very great. Taking only the item of happiness, what a paradise would not this world be, if every one were guided in his actions by the principles of right; if no one yielded to the promptings of passion or self-love, which bring so much unhappiness into human lives. It is comparatively easy to teach a young person what is right or wrong in general. It is quite a differ- ent thing to prove to him in a given case, where his interests are concerned, that he is in the wrong. Even this admitted, it is still more difficult to induce him Mental and Moral Training. 39 to act according to the dictates of his unwilling con- science. There is a defect of vision in which the retina loses its sensibility to light upon one side. The majority of people suffer from a similar defect of moral vision in varying degrees. Partially blinded by selfishness, they see only one side their own side of every question in which they are personally interested. It takes a long struggle with the lower impulses of man's nature to enable him to overcome this mental hemi- opia. CHAPTER VI. MORALITY IN SCHOOL. CLASSIFICATION. Morality teaches man's duty to himself and to his fellow-men; it is therefore of para- mount importance to the well-being of the state that all its citizens shall be carefully and systematically instructed in it. Therefore the state has the right, and it is its duty, to make Morality one of the com- pulsory branches of study in the public schools, especially as it is often neglected, or worse than neglected, in the home training of the child. At the present time a child is graded in the public schools almost exclusively according to his intellectual acquirements. He recognizes that that kind of knowl- edge alone is made the test of his advancement, and concludes that it alone is of practical importance. He sees that if his school deportment is not altogether too bad (and in many schools even this is not considered in grading a child) he will be placed at no particular disadvantage by having a bad moral character; for though the teacher may talk of the beauty and impor- tance of virtue, he belies his own expressed convictions by giving to a child's moral education no official weight or recognition. The pupil sees that the morally well-trained boy has no advantage over the vicious one, which is offi- cially recognized in the grading or other standing given him; and as a child, unbiased by the considera- 40 Morality in School. 41 tion of expediencies, is often an acute logician, he will quite naturally conclude that, after all, this talk about the necessity of virtue and morality is mere talk, and not to be accepted as a practical truth. After a teacher has given his scholars many glowing descriptions of the beauty of noble lives, has con- vinced them that to be good is of greater importance than any mere intellectual attainments, has awakened in them a desire to carry out the noble precepts he has placed before them, then they naturally feel that he ought to carry these principles into the classification of his school. A boy, somewhat dull, but with a sturdy purpose to do right, will feel bitterly disap- pointed when some brighter boy, though he may be disobedient and even thoroughly immoral, is advanced before him. He does not exactly understand how nor where, but he knows that somehow, somewhere, there is injustice done him; that the teacher's claims regarding the importance of a high moral standing, and his action in giving all official and public recog- nition and advancement to the boy of low moral standing, do not exactly tally. If good moral character is as important as good in- tellectual work, and for the welfare of the nation as well as the individual it is far more so, then this importance should be thoroughly impressed upon the child's mind, by making the moral as well as the intellectual standing a basis of classification. Half the force of the moral teaching is lost when high moral standing is unrecognized, and children of all kinds, the vicious and the pure, are classified alike, and only by their intellectual attainments. 42 Moral Culture as a Science. To remedy this evil, there should be instituted, in schools f a classification according to the moral stand- ing of the child, which might be made very prominent, a low grade in this being accounted particularly dis- graceful, in order to impress upon the childish mind the high esteem in which morality is held. Such im- pressions, received in childhood, generally remain, for good or harm, through life. In the periodical reports to the parents, this "moral class " should be noted, aside from mere deportment, and its meaning explained, so that the attention of parents, too, may be directed to this subject. Deport- ment, which is simply school behavior, should not be confounded with true Morality, of which it forms only a very small part. Indeed, it is quite conceivable that the sweetest, purest children, morally, may be so active, so full of life and imagination, that their de- portment in school is far from perfect. It will be quite right and just, therefore, to classify deportment with the intellectual rather than with the moral attainments, unless moral questions, too, are involved. It is need- less to add that the two systems of classification that on the moral and that on the intellectual basis must be entirely separate and distinct; a child may advance in one and fall behind in the other, but the moral should ever be ranked as the higher. The following methods of classification will be found just and easily carried out: There might be three Moral Classes, First, Second, and Third. THE FIRST CLASS. This should contain all well- behaved children who try to do right. Children in Morality in School. 43 this class should be exempt from corporal punishment, and should have such other privileges as may be prac- ticable. Opportunity might often be taken to show confidence in and respect for their trustworthiness. THE SECOND CLASS. A child loses its position in the first class and is transferred to the second class for willful disobedience, grave misdemeanor, such as lying or stealing, or for cruelty and viciousness. Chil- dren in this class are subject to corporal punishment at the discretion of the teacher. The teacher should also show them that he can no longer trust and confide in them as he did before; that they have forfeited this respect, since they are no longer worthy of it, Of this degradation in the child's standing the parents must be immediately notified, that they may know that he is now liable to other treatment from that first ac- corded to him. The children of these two classes are permitted to associate freely with each other during play hours. THE THIKD CLASS. Once in a while a child is found so impure that its influence is like that of the upas tree, poisoning every healthy, living mind with which it is brought into contact. Such a one should be placed in the Third Class. A child in this class should not be allowed to sit among other children, but should be near and under the direct supervision of the teacher during school hours. He should have his re- cesses alone, should not be dismissed until all the others are well gone, and before school hours should be brought in and kept from contact with the other children as soon as he appears near the school premises. In this way the power of such a child to do mischief 44 Moral Culture as a Science. in Bchool would be reduced to a minimum, and he and his companions would realize the degrading effects of the vice of impurity. In this way, too, such a child would be made even less dangerous in school than out of it, and out of school hours parents must take upon themselves the responsibility for the care of their children. As all punishment should be reformatory, the classi- fication should not hold good from one grade into the next indefinitely, as has been the mistaken method in some European schools; neither should a child be too easily promoted from a lower moral class into a higher at the discretion of a perhaps too tender-hearted teacher. Once a child has fallen from the first class, it must remain where it has been justly placed, until it advances a grade in school, when it again enters the first class. One important factor in the widespread youthful im- morality of the present day is found in the promiscuous intermingling, without regulation or restraint, of all kinds of children the good, the indifferent, and the bad in the public schools. It is not to be wondered at that thoughtful parents hesitate to send their care- fully trained child to a public school, where its seat- mate may teach it more harm in a day than they could eradicate in a year if they knew of it; and the worst is, that they generally do not know of it, for the canker is in the heart of the bud, eating out its beauty and usefulness, while the outside remains fair and promising. Yet the association of children of all classes and conditions in life with each other is highly beneficial Morality in School. 45 to all, promoting a truly republican spirit among them, and abolishing all pride of station or of snobbery. It were a pity that a child should be deprived of this useful contact with many others equally good, in order that it may not be demoralized by perhaps the only one thoroughly bad child in a school. By such a system of moral classification as outlined above, justly and strictly carried out, this evil could be remedied so that the good effect of the public school upon all children would not be lost, and that the bad child, while rendered harmless, may also be benefited. If such a system of classification were introduced, parents could no longer claim that their children were innocently whipped, for their rank in the second or third class would sufficiently characterize them; nor could they justify them by the baleful adage, " Boys will be boys, " for they would find plenty of manly, honest boys in the first class. Among the children themselves, rowdyism would fall into disrepute, and a healthy feeling of pride in being above the possibility of being whipped would be created. Besides, this system would often obviate the necessity, now sometimes unavoidable for the moral protection of the rest, of expelling a child from sohool. Many an unruly child could be subdued in this way, who, perhaps, would yield to no other punishment. Moreover, when such a one yielded it w-ould not only be an outward yielding to the force of circumstances, but would also be a true change of character. To expel a child from school is one of the greatest injuries that can be done to it. Tho loss 46 Moral Culture as a Science. will bo greatest in later life, when repentance is unvail- ing to right the evil; for it is impossible to replace to the man that which he lost through lack of early training. CHAPTER VII. LOVE AND FEAR. THE principal motive power controlling men's ac- tions are Love and Fear, and they are so indissolubly itnited that they must be considered together. Love for self and selfish gratifications, for wealth, for ap- probation, for friends, for country, for principles, for right; and fear of physical discomforts, of pecuniary losses, of the law, of the verdict of men or near friends, above all, fear of the verdict of man's own conscience, these, in progressing order, are the impelling and restraining forces of man's nature. The lowest love is that for physical well-being and the gratification of physical desires; the most abject fear is that based upon that love, and which appears when these possessions are endangered. This fear is the lowest restraining, as the love from which it springs is the lowest impelling, force of man's nature, and when these motives alone are called into action, a degraded standard of morality will result. Thus a man of low moral character will be prevented from committing crime by the fear of the physical consequences which an indignant community will visit upon him. A man of higher stamp will refrain from committing a dishonorable deed, even though the law could not reach him, because he loves the appro- bation of the world and fears to lose its good opinion and respect; but this same man may be induced to 47 48 Moral Culture as a Science. forsake an unpopular right, even against his better judgment, when to espouse it will bring upon him the censure or ridicule of the world or of his friends. Finally, love of honor and of self-respect, and fear of losing these, fear of the adverse verdict of his own conscience, will keep the man of high moral char- acter from wrong, and will impel him to do right, even against the opinions of others. The restrained criminal loves above all things life, liberty, physical comforts, and fears above all things their loss, to a less extent than that of the respect of his fellow-men. As a man rises in the moral scale, other things will become more valuable in his sight than these, such as the esteem and approbation of men, and he will often give up life itself to preserve these. Perhaps no other love is so widely distributed and so widespread in its effects as this. From the cradle to the grave, man is swayed by the opinions of others, above all, by the desire that they may think well of him. Even the lowest criminal usually has some one whose good opinion he wishes to retain, whose praise he values, though this person is often only some other criminal greater and bolder than him- self, whose influence is not calculated to elevate him; or he may try to win the admiration of the multitude by appearing as a boastful hero to the last. The man of the highest moral character is he whose most valued possession is contained within himself, who above all things desires to have and to keep his own approbation and respect, and who is restrained from wrong-doing by the fear of losing these. This is not only the highest, but is also by far the most effectual, Love and Fear. 49 motive which can induce a man to do right. The criminal may hope to escape detection and the pun- ishment of the law; the man who seeks in the appro- bation of others his highest aim may yield to temptation if he knows no one will learn of it; but the man who dreads, above all things, the judgment which his own conscience will pronounce against him can never hope to escape or silence this searching in- quisitor, and so is more safe than any other man against temptation. Love and fear, then, as they exist in every individ- ual, should be perfected; their lower manifestations should be modified, and the higher motive should be added to them. This must be the aim in training a child. The love of approbation may be well used in the training of a child, to prevent wrong-doing before Con- science, Will, and Judgment are strong enough to be controlling forces. While the desire to be approved by others is not the highest incentive to do right, it is a higher one than mere physical fear, and has its right- ful place. Through this, a child may be led to do right, until it has learned to love right for itself. But love of approbation, which flows from vanity, needs to be carefully watched, lest it become an over- mastering passion, carrying all before it, and through fear of ridicule or the opinions of others lead to the commission of deeds which the conscience strongly condemns. When the approbation desired is that of a loved one, then it becomes the expression of a true affection, and proportionately a nobler feeling than that springing 50 Moral Culture as a Science. from vanity. This gives the person beloved a strong influence, which, if exerted in the direction of right, will be beneficial. It becomes dangerous when it is exerted for wrong, especially when the faculties are undeveloped, and may lead to evil, and even to the commission of crimes. History, fiction, and daily life are full of examples of wrong committed for the sake of retaining or gaining the love and approbation of a person, though everything else man values were sac- rificed. It is for this reason that the point cannot be too often repeated, too urgently insisted upon, that while strong, true, human love is one of the most beautiful as it is one of the most elevating of emotions, yet the love of right should be stronger and deeper than this; lest, if human love be greater, it become the control- ling force of a man, and leave him weak to cope with temptations which are reinforced by this love. Since love of right is so important in the production of a strong moral character, it must be the first aim of moral training to instill this love. To do this, it is important that the teacher himself shall love the right. Not only must he commit no immoral act, but he must at all times earnestly strive to become nobler and better. Only such a one can awaken in his pupils an earnest desire and love for right. The higher the teacher's moral standard, the higher the ideal to which he aspires, the further will he be able to lead his pupils on the road to noble man- hood and womanhood. No one of low moral concep- tions should ever be chosen as an instructor of youth. In order that a child may learn to love the right, Love and Fear. 51 this must constantly be brought before him in an ideal form as the most important thing to be sought after. Every child early forms an ideal which embodies all that it considers most desirable and worthy of admira- tion ; and it is a precious gift to humanity that these first ideals are generally the parents. " This is true, for my mother says so"; " My father does it, so it is right"; even the little boy's direction to the barber, " Cut my hair like my papa's, with a hole in the middle," are expressions of a beautiful, simple faith in the perfection of the parent, which happily is not always lost with childhood. When children go to school, quite another type of excellence is set up by their playmates for their ad- miration. " He is a brick, you bet! he never squeals"; or, " Mary is too smart to be found out when she plays with her paper dolls or writes notes," these and simi- lar expressions may for the time exert a stronger influ- ence upon the child than the admonitions of the par- ents, who are supposed not to know how little boys and girls feel, nor what is best for them. The ideals that a child has, it copies, and so much of its character is formed; for every one resembles to a greater or a less extent his ideal. The boy who sees in a Gould or a Vanderbilt the highest type of man- hood will strive to make money by every means in his power when he arrives at man's estate. The boy or girl whose mind is inflamed by the exploits of a Roving Tom or a Prairie Nell will run away with a revolver or a knife, thinking to conquer the world. The girl whose brain is filled with the descriptions of the beauties of person and toilet of some heroine of 52 Moral Culture as a Science. fiction will deck herself out with ribbons or stand hours before the glass curling her hair, rolling her eyes, or trying to manage a "train" of her mother's skirts. Or where the parent, the teacher, or some esteemed friend is the ideal, some peculiarity of speech or manner may be the only thing copied, while real excellences of character may escape the observation or at least the intelligent perception of the child. An ideal worthy of being copied should therefore be presented to the child, and an impersonal rather than a personal one. To do this the teacher must first gain the confidence of each child and find out what its ideal is. He should enter into the child's thoughts, while he brings out, through judicious questioning or friendly suggestion, any defects he notices. Children are gen- erally open to conviction, and have generous impulses, and when once they have conceived the idea of the beauty of true, noble manhood and womanhood, of un- selfishness, kindness, truth, honor, honesty, self-respect, it will not be difficult to arouse in them a desire to attain these. To the highest conception of a perfect human being which the teacher brings before his pu- pils for imitation, he should give an impersonal name, " a man of honor," " a true woman," or " lady," might answer. Then he must lead the children to compare themselves with this ideal, and criticise them or com- mend them as they deserve, when measured by this standard. Some such inspiring ideal the teacher must keep before his pupils, that it may grow upon them un- consciously and become their own. The faculty of imitation will then operate to develop the child into Love and Fear. 53 an image of this ideal. He who has formed the habit of comparing his words, thoughts, and deeds with those of a high ideal has nobility of character. One thing should be guarded against. Though a child learn to love virtue by seeing its beauty in others, yet the teacher should not let it try to be any one but itself. "Oh, "cried a young girl, " if I could only belike my sister Alice, so gentle, so refined, so beautiful 1" "You cannot be like Alice," replied the teacher, "nor is it desirable that you should be. You are Cora, and you must try to be just as good and lovely a girl in your way as Alice is in hers. The rose should not try to imitate the lily, for that is against its nature, and it would only deform itself without making a perfect lily; but it should try to be a perfect rose, for both are equally beautiful when per- fect. Now let us see how you can become, not an imperfect imitation of Alice, but a perfect Cora." This principle, that each child should fully develop its own character into the best of which it will admit, should never be lost sight of. The gentle, retiring child cannot be developed into a leader, any more than the enthusiastic and headstrong one can become a submissive follower, nor should either feat be at- tempted. But the former should be taught to love right more than his disposition to yield, and to stand firm on vital principles, though he yield all else; while the latter should be taught to curb all self-will when right is concerned, and while leading, to be sure, al- ways, that he leads right; and he should learn to yield all minor points cheerfully to the wishes of others. In 54 Moral Culture as a Science. this way both may be perfected, their weak points strengthened, their faults corrected. The "personal equation" should never be neglected. It is for this reason that the ideal presented to the child should be an impersonal one. Should a Wash- ington or a Franklin be set up as an ideal, if the question were asked, " What would he do under the circumstances?" a thoughtful child might quite cor- rectly answer, "Yes, but Washington and Franklin were not like me, and they lived in a different time from mine. If they lived now, perhaps they would not do just as they did a hundred years ago. " But an impersonal ideal adapts itself to the individual peculi- arities of each child; it is flexible, and can be altered, while a personal ideal is a rigid, unchanging one. Thousands of different plants may grow on the same soil, and each, by cultivation, be made perfect in its way; so thousands of different characters may each be perfectly developed on the ideal principle. From an impersonal ideal each would receive what he needs, while a personal one often would not fit into the circumstances. Washington, as an ideal, would not suit the timid little boy who is afraid of the "bully." But he can be shown how " a man of honor," even though as timorous as he, which is no disgrace, but a fault to be corrected, will overcome his weak- ness and bravely defend his principles. On the other hand, to the headstrong, violent boy is pointed out that "a man of honor" is he who "combines the strength of a man with the gentleness of a woman." He uses his strength of body and mind to help the weak when oppressed, and never to further his own Love and Fear. 55 selfish interests at the expense of others' well-being. The vain girl will see in "the true woman" that the beauty springing out of a kind and loving disposition is far more valuable and enduring than mere personal charms. The passionate, undisciplined one, in her " gentlewoman " will see the beauty and power of self- control. Thus each child will receive an ideal which suits its own individuality. The conception of right is as varied as that of the beautiful. If we could materialize the images of beauty, conceived by different minds, what varied forms we should see. Yet each would conform in part to the recognized laws of beauty. So if every person could give a distinct idea of what, in his mind, consti- tutes a perfect man or woman, what strange concep- tions would appear; yet in most of them some ap- proach, at least, to the recognized laws of moral perfection would be found. This ideal of each person is his own higher self. It should be developed and elevated, but not supplanted by that of another. In this connection, character-sketches illustrating such traits as in this or that child need developing are useful. Above all, true biographies of great men (not panegyrics upon impossible collections of virtues, unmixed with faults, and labeled with some illustrious name) will be found useful. A biography of Wash- ington should dwell not only upon his unfailing and steadfast courage and patriotic devotion to his coun- try, but should also mention his parsimony, his passion- ate temper, his natural haughtiness. Then the chil- dren should be made to see that part of his greatness consisted in governing these faults. He loved money, 56 Moral Culture as a Science. yet he asked for his long years of suffering and toil nothing but to have his own outlays refunded. He had a violent temper, but he controlled it so well that few knew of it. It should be strongly impressed upon the children that Washington, having these faults, yet controlling or suppressing them, was a far nobler man than he would have been had he not had them and had acted exactly as he did; that his generosity to his country showed a greater love for it, and was worthy of greater admiration, because he was not naturally generous; that his calm demeanor was more to be admired be- cause he was naturally so quick and imperious. So the child who is excessively fond of out-of-door sports deserves more credit for patient application to his lessons, than one to whom these lessons are the greatest pleasure. The headstrong child may show a greater strength of character in yielding, and so con- quering a very strong self, than in leading and conquer- ing only others who are weaker. The careless child is worthy of more praise when he attains great neatness, than the one who is naturally very precise and care- ful. The quick-tempered one exhibits greater virtue by curbing the tongue and restraining the angry deed and remaining calm, than one who, under the same circumstances, does not become equally excited. In this way may be developed in each child a love for right, and a desire to conquer its own individual faults and vices. CHAPTER VIII. CANT AND MORALIZING. TEACHERS are often asked to give model lessons in certain special lines to illustrate a superior method for the benefit of other teachers. In any other line of study this is perfectly proper; but in teaching ethics this should never, under any condition, be at- tempted. The elevating character of this science makes it sacred; therefore "show lessons, " in which children would have to answer before listeners and critics, would tend to make the effect of the lesson just the opposite of that which it was intended to be. All work in this line must be natural and spontaneous; any tendency toward "showing off" would be deplor- able. In this work teachers will need to be ever on guard against two insidious enemies, i.e., the habit of using cant phrases and that of moralizing. Cant is defined as "an empty, solemn speech, im- plying what is not felt." Cant phrases are often used, however, by persons who are sincere in their feelings, but who have grown careless, often ex- pressing their thoughts by using phrases which they hear from others. Teachers should carefully guard against using set expressions, which, through much repetition, may have "lost their savor." The new method of teaching patriotism, for instance, which was introduced into many schools during the 67 58 Moral Culture as a Science. Columbus celebration a few years ago, has some sus- picious elements. On the school-grounds the children range them- selves in rows, raise the right hand towards the flag, and repeat in concert the following words: " I pledge allegiance to my flag and the republic for which it stands. One nation indivisible, with lib- erty and justice for all I" The children wriggle and squirm, sometimes they look around and giggle or laugh, while they babble these words, which have no meaning to them. The fundamental mistake is that we force children to make a pledge. When a soldier pledges his alle- giance to his flag and country, he stands ready to live and die for it. After that solemn oath is taken, he is held responsible for his word; if he break it, he is severely dealt with as a traitor. This pledge to the flag is given once in a lifetime; it is not repeated every morning. If "cant" is "a solemn speech implying what is not felt," what must be our conclusion with regard to much of the patriotism which we "teach" ? Is not patriotism, after all, an essentially narrow virtue? The feeling of kinship with the peoples of the whole world which Miss Andrews hoped to awaken by her charming stories about the " Seven Little Sisters Who Lived on the Great Ball that Floats in the Air" and "Ten Boys Who Lived on the Road from Long Ago to Now, " is certainly a nobler one. In some conservative communities a stranger is treated with the most embarrassing suspicion until he has established his right to live by many proofs of Cant and Moralizing. 59 his integrity. Sometimes, in buildings of several rooms, teachers try to arouse enthusiasm among their pupils by unduly emphasizing the merits of " our room," "our record," "our lines," etc. The narrow community-feeling and the " room-pride " are only a little more restricted than the patriotism which says, " My country, right or wrong," instead of the true love of country which says with Lowell, " My country, may she ever be right!" All narrow pride creates pre- judice against whatever is without certain narrow limits, and this must work mischief in the end, as it is not in accord with the sympathy which we should have with all earnest endeavor. Cant phrases are sly foxes, and the defenses must be carefully watched lest they break through. Ruskin says that the child is wiser than the man, since he is the father of the man. So children often detect cant, where their elders, more accustomed to it, do not feel it. Let the teacher, therefore, guard against it, and steer any child inclined to use "words that are not felt" away from the shallows where rocks lurk, into the deep waters of genuine feeling. The other danger which threatens our work in ethics is the habit which many exacting elders have of cor- recting each offense by giving a set rule of action to prevent its repetition. The difference between teach- ing children moral principles and moralizing is this: Teaching fundamental moral principles at times when no offense has been committed gives the child resources which are instinctively drawn upon when they may be needed; the child thus becomes an inde- pendent judge of its own action. Moralizing, on the 60 Moral Culture as a Science. other hand, is essentially superficial, "applied from without, " and must be repeated after each offense. " Incidental teaching of ethics" is always in danger of being moralizing in tone, as the instruction is given only when a wrong has been committed and the child is expected to apply the lesson to its especial case. Sometimes the child is angry, and the lesson may do actual harm. In some cases, however, when a serious wrong has been committed, and the child is penitent, most effective help can be given, which is fundamental and lasting in character. Yet the dan- ger of moralizing always remains. Moreover, "inci- dental teaching " does not cover the ground. Those children who never happen to offend in school, though they may be quite as faulty outside of it, re- ceive no special instruction. May it be partly for this reason that this " perfect-in-deportment class" often turn out so badly? They did not receive as careful instruction as their less well-behaved companions; yet for life they needed the training as well as the others. Perhaps, on account of a certain pliability of nature, a tendency to priggishness, and a habit of judging others in a pharisaical spirit, they may really have needed this training more than their willful, restless, yet generous companions, who were con- stantly offending. There is a vast difference, then, between moral- izing and most incidental teaching, and teaching fundamental principles which apply themselves to all the varied exigencies of life. JJart CHAPTER I. THE PERSONAL VIRTUES. CONTROL of the Self, of the appetites of the body, the desires of the mind, the emotions and their ex- pressions; of the exercise of the faculties of imitation and habit, of the imagination, aye, of reason itself, this is the noble function of the Will, which is the ex- pression of the ego. Self-control, then, consists of an education and development of the powers of the Will, in the direction indicated by the judgment, and results in the quality of mind which is called firmness. As this control or government of the self is the great function of the Will, parents and teachers must exer- cise great care, lest, through their measures to control the child, they weaken this power. A great deal of self-control is natural, and is exer- cised by every person. As a young child develops, its faculties, one after another, from the lowest upward, are taken under the control of the central nervous system; indeed, they are not faculties until they are under such control. Purposeless and seemingly aim- less muscular movements become denned and co- ordinated. The list, which at first wanders all over the face in its attempt to reach the mouth, soon finds it with unerring precision. Then the little hands learn to clasp outside objects and carry them to that one final goal of a young baby's every manual move- ment, the mouth. But after a time it learns that 61 62 Moral Culture as a Science. some substances are bitter and acrid, some objects hard and rough, and a higher center interposes to for- bid or inhibit the baby habit, in order to prevent a repetition of the unpleasant sensation which has been so produced. Again, the child's cry may be restrained or inhibited by the sight of a shining object. When a child burns his hand he instantly withdraws it from the dangerous neighborhood. That movement is caused through a reflex center in the spinal cord. At the same time the sensation of pain is transmitted to the brain, and the higher centers, acting together, produce a cry. As the child grows older, a controlling power is brought into play, and the cry is restrained or inhibited. With advancing age, new faculties are constantly being brought under these " controlling " centers, both positive and negative. The boy or girl applies himself or herself to a dis- agreeable task, in order to accomplish a certain pur- pose, or for love of some person, or from self-respect, refrains from performing certain acts which are known to be wrong. As the individual advances towards adult life, as his judgment and reasoning faculties become developed, his desire for complete control of self increases. He denies his appetite, that he may use his money for more useful purposes; or his love of pleasure, that he may devote his time to the acquisition of knowledge. Love may teach him to forego pleasures for the sake of benefiting others, and ambition, vanity, or love of right may cause him to take his desires more and more completely under his control. He learns to repress the expressions of his emotions The Personal Virtues. 63 (again the exhibition of a restraining or inhibiting power); anger, pain, or disappointment are borne without outward sign. As he rises still higher in the moral scale, as his will assumes still more perfectly its proper place, he controls not only the outward manifestations of the emotions, but harbors only such as are sanctioned by judgment and conscience, only such as he considers right and honorable. Thus he not only shows no im- patience over the vexations of life, but he inhibits even the feeling of this impatience. Deliberate and necessary self-control is exercised in avoiding the imitation of acts which the judgment does not approve, and in preventing the formation of undesirable habits. The highest power of the Will is called into activity in the control of the faculties of Imagination and Reason, holding the one rigidly in check, and not allowing it to range in directions or dwell upon subjects considered harmful, and forcing the other to continuous application in any given direc- tion, when it is so desired. This control of the Imagi- nation and Reason constitutes the power of application, and is absolutely necessary for the performance of any mental or moral work of a high grade. Especially is control of the imagination necessary if purity of thought and action is to be maintained. The higher the faculty controlled and the more complete the control, the higher must be the quality of the judgment and the will by which this control is exercised. In general, the restraining or inhibiting powers are the highest, and the last to develop. As a rule, the natural, uncontrolled tendency is toward action 64 Moral Culture as a Science. of some sort, though often in the wrong direction. The centers restraining or inhibiting this action are therefore higher than those producing it. This in- hibiting power is usually, also, the first to be lost under great mental strain, and we have the excitement and restlessness of nervous prostration and of hysteria. To recapitulate: The station of the ruled deter- mines the position of the ruler. The nerve-center which causes a child to withdraw its hand from a hot stove is lower than that which causes him to suppress the cry of pain. This is lower than that through which he resolutely sets himself to suppress the out- ward manifestation of some emotion, as hatred or im- patience. Higher yet is the control of the thoughts, which permits neither imagination nor any other fac- ulty to run riot, but holds all under the guidance of an educated judgment and the control of a strong will. That this higher stage may be reached, the lowest must not be neglected. It is as impossible for a man to exercise the highest forms of self-control and be in- capable of the lower, as it is for him to solve a problem in trigonometry and be ignorant of the first principles of geometry. This power of self-control is such a fundamental requirement for man's development in every direction, that the necessity of carefully training and fostering it in the young will be denied by no one who has given the subject any serious consideration. Goethe writes, " Teach self-control, whatever else you neglect"; and no one looked with clearer insight into the necessities of life than he. What is the object of all child- training? Is it not The Personal Virtues. 65 to enable the child the better to withstand the trials and temptations of life without being swamped by them, without losing manhood and self-respect in the "struggle for existence"? And is not self-indulgence the stagnant slough which swallows up so many prom- ising lives? When we think of the lives wrecked by gluttony, intemperance, indolence, unchastity, we may well repeat Goethe's words, " Teach self-control, what- ever else you neglect." Unyielding self-control is always recognized as an element of strength. When the young Roman Mucius had made an unsuccessful attempt upon the life of the Etruscan king, Porsena, who was besieging Rome, he was to be tortured to force him to disclose the names of his confederates. Instantly he laid his right hand upon a bed of coals near-by to show his fortitude. Porsena was so impressed with the strength of char- acter which this self-control and courage indicated, that he sent the young man back to his countrymen, and soon after made peace with an enemy that num- bered such brave men among its citizens. Self-control produces firmness of character, but ob- stinacy is a different thing, and must never be mis- taken for it. Parents often fall into the error of look- ing upon the obstinate resistance of a child as a mark of its strength of character, and frequently commit the still graver error of commenting upon this " strong will," in the presence of a child, with an air of complacence and resignation to the inevitable, and with a secret, but not secreted, feeling of pride in the ungovernable character of their spoiled pet. While obstinacy does sometimes, but by no means 66 Moral Culture as a Science. always, indicate a strong will, it is a degeneration, therefore a weakness. Nothing so much interferes with the proper education of a child, both mentally and morally, as this obstinate, unteachable spirit. In later life it causes great unhappiness, both to the ob- stinate man himself and to his surroundings, and gives in return no satisfaction whatever to any one, neither in its victory, which is accompanied by a deep inner sense of wrong done, nor in its defeat. Obstinacy consists of an adherence to ideas or reso- lutions, merely because they have been formed or taken without listening to the dictates of reason or judgment. The obstinate person refuses to yield his position because that might be construed as weak- ness; yet this fear itself is an element of weakness. He holds his opinion tenaciously, fearing that rea- son will take away its foundation; or, again, he sticks to his expressed beliefs or intentions for no other reason than that he, forsooth, has expressed them. Now, this is far from real firmness, 'real strength of will. Firmness is based upon judgment; obstinacy stands against it. Firmness courts conviction, and desires to stand upon the truth only; obstinacy is not open to conviction. Firmness stands unwavering on principles, and yields minor points; obstinacy stands on minor points, and yields principles. Self-control includes or produces many of the traits of character which man esteems most highly in himself and others. Among these are Self-denial, Moderation, moderation in all things, even in mod- eration itself; Industry and Application, without The Personal Virtues. 67 which there is no progress; Patience and Cheerfulness, a control of the emotions of impatience and anger; Courage, the control of fear, fear of every kind, physical, mental, and moral. Courage is not synonymous with fearlessness. The former consists of a true control, even to suppression, of the emotion of fear; the latter, of an entire ab- sense of that emotion. Unconsciously, every one pays a tribute of honor and respect to the man, no matter what his station in life, who shows his self-respect by perfect self-control. CHAPTER II. HOW TO TEACH THE PERSONAL VIRTUES. As in all instruction it is necessary to reason from the known to the unknown, so this process must be followed in moral instruction. It will do no good to harangue the child on the necessity of controlling himself, but he must be made to see that his powers are of use only as they are controlled. One or more lessons may be profitably spent by the pupils in merely bringing up examples of power which are useful under control, and harmful when they break away from it. The fiery horse, the engine in motion steam, water, electricity, fire, how useful, even how absolutely necessary to life, are these, yet how destruc- tive are they when they escape from control. Then illustrations nearer home may be used. The hand in which every muscle is under control forms beautiful letters, or draws pictures pleasing to the eye. Another hand, not so well controlled, makes "pot- hooks " and daubs. The success of a pitcher in a game of baseball depends upon the perfect control he has over the muscles of his hand and arm, each acting just exactly as he desires, and at the instant when his will commands. This enables him to give just such direction and curves to the flight of his ball as he thinks best. But if, at the moment of his throwing the ball, one or the other of his muscles slips out from his control, and refuses to obey, the result is a failure. How to Teach the Personal Virtues. 69 So it is with the Will. A person who has no will does what others will that he should do. He is like a leaf blown about by the wind. But a person who has a will, and uses it as he should, does what his judg- ment teaches him is right, and is like an oak tree that stands firm against the strongest wind. The controlling faculty of the mind is the Will, and without it the others can do little or noth- ing. This must be made clear to the children. How many times did not the judgment tell them what was right, the conscience draw them towards right? They really intended to do right; but they did wrong, nevertheless. Why was it ? Because some playmate wanted them to do wrong, and the will of the playmate was stronger than their own? or because they expected to have pleasure out of their wrong, and the desire for pleasure was stronger than their will? Sometimes men, women, or children do wrong because they are afraid some one will laugh at them if they do right. In that case fear is stronger than the will. From such illustrations which the teacher may give, and others which the children will relate, the latter can readily be made to understand that it is very important that every one have a strong will, if he wants to be able to do what he thinks best. To make anything strong, it must be exercised, and so it is with the will. The will should govern the person, his body and his mind. The children can then be shown how, to a certain extent, the body is always governed by the will. They will to raise their hands, and the muscles raise it; they will to stand up or to sit down, to walk, to run, to play, and the body 70 Moral Culture as a Science. obeys the will. They thus learn that the body is sub- ject to the will, and that every person has in this wonderful and complex body of his an efficient servant, always ready, when properly trained, to do the bidding of the will. Draw the child's attention to the fact that his mus- cular system and all his senses are serving him. With his hand he grasps the object he wants; his feet carry him wherever he desires to go; his ears hear for him; his eyes see for him. The body, then, is the servant of the will, and all servants must obey. If a man has a coachman to take care of his horses, the coachman would be the man's servant. Suppose, on some occasion, the man told the servant to take care of the horses, and the coachman replied, " No; I do not want to do that now, for I am reading a pleasant book which I want to finish." Of course the man would say, " While you are my servant you must obey me; go and do as you are told." But many people allow the body-servants which they have to become disobedient. The boy may want to study his lesson, he wishes to stand high in his class and bring home a good report, but his eyes want to watch the boy across the aisle, who is draw- ing pictures on his slate, or they want to look out of the window, where they can see the birds flying about. Now, his Will keeps telling those eyes, " Turn to the book now." His Judgment says, " You will not know the lesson this afternoon if you do not study." But the eyes, the disobedient servants, do not obey. Now the boy must do as the man would do, make the servants obey his will. How to Teach the Personal Virtues. 71 So with the hands. Many a boy does not want them to play; he does not intend to make any noise; he wishes to study; but his disobedient hands do it against the orders of his own will. What a poor, in- competent master that boy's will is, to let his servants do just as they please! It will be a good plan, in order to interest the chil- dren in this right of the Will to control the body, to let them spend some time in learning and thinking about making their hands and feet, their eyes and ears, obey them. The exercise will be useful by drawing their attention to the subject; for if a child only learns to think of acting according to the will, even though he breaks his resolution, it is better than act- ing on a blind, unreasoning impulse. As the child's desire for control, and admiration for the person who possesses it, grows, he himself will gradually acquire it. These lessons can be introduced in so tactful a man- ner, and be made so attractive, that even those un- fortunate children who are possessed of an obstinate, unteachable spirit, and who usually fight shy of everything savoring of a moral lesson, are interested in their servants, and in the exercises to bring them under the will, before they know it, and without at first realizing the drift of the lesson. Once their in- terest is aroused, there will be no further difficulty. One thing should be remembered. Such lessons must never be made personal. The instruction and the exercises should be general, and not as if called out by any one particular misdemeanor. This is apt to arouse opposition, especially in a naturally obsti- nate child. 72 Moral Culture as a Science. After the child has become interested in enforcing obedience from his bodily " servants," he can be taught that he has yet other faculties, even more important, which also need to be brought under control, so that they, too, like well-trained servants shall do exactly as he bids them. Childien know that the power which thinks is called the Mind. But as the body has in it organs which have different functions, the eye for seeing, the ear for hear- ing, the hand for many purposes, the lower limbs for moving the body from place to place, so in the mind there are different faculties for different purposes. One faculty of the mind is that of study, which is used in thinking hard over a lesson or in trying to solve a problem. The child that leans his head on his hand, and thinks with all his might to learn a way of solving a perplexing problem in arithmetic, is using this power. Another faculty of the mind is the power of feeling. A person feels love for his friends, or anger at some one's unkindness, or impatience because he must wait. He need not think much about these things, but he feels them without thinking. Still another faculty is that of " making believe," or " supposing." Every one at times " supposes " things that are not really true, and this faculty of " supposing " is called Imagination. Boys and girls imagine what they will do when they go to the beach next summer, or they imagine what a pleasant time their friends in the country are having now. Often they may sit for hours imagining what they will do when they are men and women, and perhaps so forget that they have something to do now. How to Teach the Personal Virtues. 73 These faculties must be introduced, as it were, to the child, and introduced to him as new, or rather as other, servants, and servants that need to be trained and controlled, as well as those previously spoken about. Thus the faculty of study, which is called Reason, must be ready to obey, and go to work when the child wants and needs it, or it is of no use; and it must also stay at work until it has accomplished its task, or until the honest judgment sets it free. The child or man that has an obedient reason is the one that can always think out difficult problems, study lessons, in short, do what the servant is there to do. Then the feelings. There are very many of these, and they make life happy or unhappy, according to the kind which is allowed to grow and the kind which is suppressed. The child that suppresses and con- trols such feelings as anger, impatience, envy, and jealousy will naturally train such other feelings as love, kindness, patience, and generosity. Now, which are the better? Which kind will you have? Is it better to control the feelings, and have just such as you think you want? or is it better to let them come haphazard, and pay no attention to who your servants are and what they are doing? Above all, the Imagination must be watched. On questioning, every child will remember occasions when he allowed his imagination full sweep. (The teacher must not seek for the faults of the Imagination, but merely for occasions where it was used. ) This boy made up a story for his composition; that girl wrote a little history of a conversation between a bee and a flower. Both were not true, but both were the pro- duct of the Imagination. 74 Moral Culture as a Science. Children enjoy using this faculty as we always en- joy using good, faithful, and obedient servants. Now, the Imagination is sometimes like a wild horse; it likes to run away. When it runs away without sense or reason, as when a boy lies abed in the morning and thinks and thinks what he would do and have if he had a house full of money, and Aladdin's wonder- ful lamp too, and what good times he would have floating around on the beautiful lakes in golden canoes, and all such stuff, when the Imagination goes off into any region where sense and reason cannot follow it, then it is no longer called Imagination, but phan- tasy, and the difference between the two is this: Ima- gination does as it is told, goes where it is sent, comes back when it is called, and is always sensible and rea- sonable; it is man's servant. But phantasy goes where it pleases, stays as long as it wants to, has neither sense nor reason, and is man's master; and a yery bad master too. This kind of an imagination is called day-dreaming, and children can be made to see that the child or man who does not control his imagination, but lets it run off with him, amounts to very little. He never studies his lessons, he never knows what is going on around him, and unless he learns to control his imagination he will never amount to anything. Nearly every child can call to mind examples of such people. Sometimes the imagination wants to dwell on things that are not clean and pure, things that the child or man would not be willing to tell others about, or would be ashamed to have it known that he thought of. them. Now, such things are unclean, How to Teach the Personal Virtues. 75 and everything that is unclean makes unclean what- ever it touches. Let the least bit of soot come on your hand, you may not know it, and touch your face with it, there is a dirty streak; you touch the other hand, there is another; you put the finger on the white paint, and it leaves a black imprint, and then upon a clean white dress, and it too is soiled. In time the soot which is only put on from the outside wears off, but the moral dirt, which comes from the inside of a person's mind, cannot wear off, and only disappears when he himself constantly keeps his moral face and hands clean, so to speak, i.e., when he allows nothing impure or coarse to remain in his mind or imagination. All these faculties, then, are servants, just as the bodily faculties are, and it is the business of the judg- ment to see that they know what to do, and of the will to force them to do it. The attention of the chil- dren should bo called to the fact that it is a fine thing to have a will strong enough and a judgment wise enough to control such very high and remarkable faculties. Imitation and Habit are two other important fac- ulties to which the children's attention needs to be directed. They should be led to notice, more than they probably have, how often every one is uncon- sciously impelled to imitate the action of others. When one person yawns, every one else does the same, or feels the impulse to do it. The one who speaks pleasantly will receive a pleasant answer, and the one who speaks unpleasantly, an unpleasant one. We constantly find ourselves saying and doing things as 76 Moral Culture as a Science. others do them. One child copies from another, par- ticularly if he admires him, and children often do wrong merely because some one else did it. But they and adults as well often also do right merely because some one else did. Thus one newsboy in an Eastern city saved several people from drowning, and was written about a good deal in the papers. In con- sequence of that, boys in other places strayed along the river banks, watching to save people's lives, and in a number of cases did so. This was merely imita- tion, but it was of a good kind. Every one has imitated both good and bad actions in his life, and teacher and pupil might record many instances of this in their observations of others. Here again it is best not to let them tell what the nature of the act copied was, whether good or bad. Merely to notice the act of imitation is sufficient. So with Habits. The teacher should direct the minds of the children towards an observation of these, the facility with which they are formed and the difficulty with which they are broken off. The children should enumerate the habits they approve of, and why. In this connection the teacher can do much by encouraging the imitation of desirable traits of character or of noble deeds. This habit of discrimi- nation can be developed into a most useful and desir- able one. Teachers must not expect to influence their pupils at once. If, at first, the children's minds are merely directed towards observing with intelligence, an immense step has been taken, for the blind, unreasoning following of impulse is one of the greatest bars to a high moral- How to Teach the Personal Virtues. 77 ity. When the children have become acquainted with the general tendencies of human nature, little by little they themselves will see the special tendencies, the weaknesses, and the strong points of their own nature; and having learned how to correct or encourage these, having clear-cut, well-defined moral knowledge, their unconscious natural tendency will be to suppress the faults and cultivate the virtues. In this connection it is not necessary, perhaps scarcely desirable, that too great an enthusiasm for reform be awakened in the children. Enthusiasm founded on emotion too often is followed by reaction. Too much is attempted at once; and as almost certain failure follows, the enthusiasm becomes dampened, and nothing is left. Much more certain is it, as has been said before, to awaken an intelligent desire for improvement. This will grow naturally out of the intellectual knowledge gained. In the higher grades the children will take up the different qualities springing from self-control, and study them carefully. One of the most prominent among these is MODERATION. In beginning the study of this, the children should first be asked to look up the meaning of the word, and compare it with others of similar in- tent. Then they should learn how it is applied to the actions of men. Why is moderation a desirable quality? Why is it always undesirable to go to ex- tremes? Are there any occasions when it seems advis- able to go to an extreme? Even then, if the action is governed and controlled by reason, is it not moderated? Does loss of self-control weaken a person's influence with himself and others, or does it not? 78 Moral Culture as a Science. When the matter is carefully considered, when known examples from real life and from history are cited, it will be generally conceded that the person who is moderate in his views and in their expression, who does not go into extremes or " fly off the handle," is the one who receives the respect and confidence of his fellow-men. Moderation is like the fly-wheel of an en- gine, regulating the application of. the force, which it also increases. Thus brought before them, all will accept moderation as a desirable trait of character. Moderation, as it exists in men and women, is of two kinds: that of the man who never is tempted to depart from the even tenor of his way, and who never is roused to strong, deep feelings on any subject; and that which is due to self-control, beneath which may exist the deepest, most intense feeling. Pupils should be asked to give examples of these two different kinds of moderation in the characters of history and fiction as far as they know them, and they may be allowed to mention the number of people among their acquaint- ances who possess one or the other of them. They should not be permitted to mention names, nor in any way become personal. They should be warned against this even among themselves, as nothing is easier than making mistakes in judging of the characters of others. A wise and moderate man will be slow to make up his mind, and while he thinks that he is right, he reserves his judgment until doubt is no longer possible. In examining into the nature of these two kinds of moderation, we find that the first is no moderation at all, for moderation means to " lessen," " repress," " reduce from a state of violence." Where there is How to Teach the Personal Virtues. 79 no feeling to reduce or lessen, there can be no mod- eration. Such calmness of demeanor results from a phlegmatic temperament, but does not, as a rule, carry with it the weight and sense of reserve power which accompanies the forceful moderation of strong feeling or excitement. It is no misfortune, but rather the opposite, therefore, to be born with a tendency to great intensity of feeling, if only this is kept within bounds. By means of literature and suggestions the pupils can be made to think of this matter frequently, to admire the moderation possessed by great men, and to desire it for themselves. INDUSTRY AND APPLICATION. The value of these, like that of moderation, must be discussed, illustrated by practical examples and literary selections, and its necessity for the future moral, mental, and physical prosperity emphasized. Manual training, when it shall be introduced into all schools, will do much towards increasing both these qualities among school children. PATIENCE AND CHEERFULNESS. These two generally go together, and rest upon moderation and courage. They should be encouraged, like the others, by means of questions, suggestions, literary selections, and thought. Few persons fully realize the beauty and at- tractiveness of a bright, ever cheerful disposition, which clears away the clouds of impatience and brings sunshine to every one. This is a virtue which, with patience in annoyance or vexation, cannot be too care- fully cultivated. Cheerfulness and Patience are rarely found with a bad conscience. The cheerful person is generally the 80 Moral Culture as a Science. one who does his duty to the best of his knowledge and ability, even though it is disagreeable. If chil- dren will recall when they themselves have been most cheerful, they will find that it was when they had the pleasing consciousness of a duty well done, a kind or unselfish act performed. And when are they "cross"? When they have neglected their duty or have done what they knew was wrong. At such a time the conscience reproves them, and this uncom- fortable feeling they vent upon their surroundings. Cheerfulness is also largely a matter of habit and of manner. Even the smallest children in school can learn to cultivate a pleasant voice and a cheerful manner. It is surprising how quickly the outward manner will penetrate into the inner spirit. Older pupils should also have their attention drawn to this matter, and be encouraged always to be pleasant and cheerful in their daily intercourse with others, and es- pecially in the home life, lest they fall into the grave fault of cheerfulness with the outside world and a morose manner at home. This is simply one form of hypocrisy. COURAGE. Much can be said about Courage, the control of the sense of fear. As has been said before, courage is not synonymous with fearlessness, or absence of fear, but consists of an active control of a real emo- tion of fear, and of a base fear which needs to be conquered or suppressed, a fear which, if allowed to sway the actions of a man, would lead him to do wrong. This should be impressed upon the pupils. As before, the children should give their ideas of courage and relate examples. At first, or among the How to Teach the Personal Virtues. 81 younger children, examples of physical courage only will probably be related. The older or more thought- ful ones will tell instances of moral courage, individ- uals daring to do right, even though ridicule, con- tempt, loss of wealth and position, followed. Com- paratively few, especially among the young, realize how much courage is needed in daily life if a man is to retain his individuality and his integrity. Yet how rare is the man who has " the courage of his convictions." In school, children should learn to hold their opinions fairly, modestly, yet unwaveringly, until con- vinced of their error; and when so convinced, when they find they are wrong, unhesitatingly yield them and adopt those they have reason to believe correct. But the convincing power must be reason, not deference to position or authority. No action is farther re- moved from courage than that of the man who is afraid to confess his error lest it be construed as weakness. This needs to be constantly impressed upon children. TEMPERANCE. Temperance, like the other virtues, should be spoken about, its bearings discussed, the best means of attaining and keeping it considered. Literature describing the evil effects of alcohol and the revolting aspects of the vice of intemperance is plentiful, temperance being almost the only virtue which has an abundant literature of its own, and which is generally and widely praised and recom- mended. Where a systematic course of training in general self-control is carried out at home and in school, no 82 Moral Culture as a Science. special danger need be apprehended from the source of intemperance. This only becomes dangerous when the child is incapable of controlling his appetites. The question whether total abstinence should be or should not be advocated in the public schools cannot. be discussed here. One thing is certain: the child that has learned thoroughly to control and deny his appetites will also control this one. A child will never become a drunkard if the lesson of self-control has been thoroughly taught. This does not mean that parents and teachers who believe in total abstinence should not urge it upon the children intrusted to their care; only, they should not depend solely upon a pledge which may prove but a weak defense against the pleadings of an appetite; they should rather build strong and well the power of self-denial and self-control, to give force to the pledge and make it what it is fondly, but only too often falla- ciously, hoped to be: a tower of strength. Some persons believe that intemperance is very in- frequent in childhood, and that, therefore, the child rarely or never needs to be cautioned against it. This is a double fallacy. First, the child needs to be cautioned against those faults which may prove dangerous to it in later life. Second, the child itself is often the victim of intem- perance. True, this intemperance is not in the use of intoxicants, but a no less overmastering passion with many is the appetite for sweetmeats, or for to- bacco, in the case of boys, which prepares the way for the more degrading intemperance in the use of alco- holic liquors. How to Teach the Personal Virtues. 83 After Sunday school, little children swarm into the candy-store, to spend the money given them for the contribution-box, for candy. This is a common fact, for which the candy dealer prepares. It is unneces- sary to comment upon the danger in which these chil- dren are. Later, sweets pall upon them, and they re- sort to stronger indulgences. The system of school savings banks, which is now being introduced, may perhaps prove of use in teach- ing children economy, but here great care needs to be exercised, lest in correcting one fault another and greater be produced. It is unnatural for a child to hoard money too carefully. If he learns business habits and economy through the bank, care should be taken that he do not also learn miserliness and avarice. On the whole it is much better that a child carry spending-money of his own in his pocket, and then learn not to spend it for useless or unnecessary things, but to use it freely for that which will really benefit himself and others. PURITY. The subject of purity is a very delicate one to present to children, yet one that must not be neglected. In speaking to them in regard to this sub- ject, it is well to have the sexes separated. Usually it is better to speak to individual children. Often, how- ever, groups of children who live near each other, and walk to and from school together, fall into the habit of " teasing " each other, and of discussing impure subjects. If the teacher will carefully watch the children, she will detect those who would be benefited by a personal talk, as impurity soon stamps itself upon the child's face. 84 Moral Culture as a Science. An earnest teacher may do much to help children, as mothers often are " ashamed " to speak plainly and simply without hesitation or embarrassment. The mystery which surrounds the simple biological facts of life is one of the strongest factors in impurity of thought. Whatever the children may have learned of these facts is usually associated with impure matters. Now, if the teacher strips off all these associations, shows the child the reasonableness, aye the absolute neces- sity, of each plant and each animal reproducing its kind, the matter begins to look very different to the child. If this desire had not been placed in the nature of all living things, the earth would be a desert. There would be no trees to give shade or fruits, no grains, no flowers, no animals. A sorry place this great earth would be with no living thing upon it. When the child has grasped the idea that it is all natural, and therefore pure, then the danger of an im- pure childhood should be pointed out. If we tear a little green rosebud open to make it blossom sooner, we see no resemblance in this distorted thing to the beautiful flower which it would have been, had we left it to unfold naturally. If we pick apples off the tree, which are no bigger than cherries, they will not taste like apples. So children must leave all thoughts of their " blossoming-time " to the years of manhood and womanhood, where they belong. The horrible unhappiness, the disease, the insanity, and the shame of it all should be impressed upon them. If small children are guilty of using impure language, they should carefully wash and rinse the mouth from which the dirty words came, so that they may feel How to Teach the Personal Virtues. 85 that their mouth is clean again. We speak of a per- son given to using bad language as " foul-mouthed." This expresses the popular feeling in regard to the use of bad language. The vice of impurity can be illustrated by showing a child an apple which is sound from without, but is decayed within. Apparently, the apple is good, but if we feel it or smell it, we recognize its condition: it is rotten at the core. So the impure person may seem pleasant at first, but as we make his acquaintance we find that he is disgusting. Impurity penetrates into the very core of the nature and eats away its sweetness, its truth, its honor, and its happiness, leaving only rottenness. Many parents, older members of the family, too often even teachers, have the pernicious habit of di- recting the child's attention to the sexual relations by constant bantering or "teasing," and frequent allu- sions to "love-making," "courting," "flirting," even with regret it is said that worst of vulgar slang, "mashing," until mind and imagination of the child are filled with this subject. What wonder that the child's thoughts travel in the forbidden and myste- riously dark path, the gate to which is so invitingly set open by those who should know better. Then, when the natural fruit appears, which such training must eventually bear, parents and teachers are greatly surprised at the immorality of the young, and do not reflect that they themselves, by their thoughtless conversation bordering on the impure, very often started the little soul on its downward course, and left it a victim to the natural tendencies which they have prematurely awakened. 86 Moral Culture as a Science. An impure mind may be likened to a cellar full of foul-smelling debris and crawling things from which odors arise into the house above. The windows of this dark place are covered with cobwebs and the stones underfoot are slimy and dark. But let a neat housewife with her helpers come into the place with brush and broom, soap and water, and open up the windows and the doors to let in the winds of heaven and the bright sunshine. Soon the place is cleared and scrubbed, the smooth gray stones appear, the windows shine, the walls are clean and white as pure lime can make them. All bad odors are gone, and the vile place has become a pleasure to look upon. This illustration is easily understood, and it often arouses a child to undertake the warfare against vile- ness within himself. At first he may need to have just such a " clarin'-out time"; afterwards he will have to watch closely every tendency toward the old condition. A transformation has sometimes been worked in the mind of a child in a few months by an earnest teacher. If we guard children against this vice as against a pestilence, and arouse in them desire to keep their birthright, clean hands, a pure heart, a good con- science, and an eye which can look the whole world in the face honestly and firmly, we have blessed them with a power which will help them to rise above all difficulties. " I gave my son a temple, And a kingdom to control, The temple of his body, And the kingdom of his soul." JULIA WARD HOWE. CHAPTER III. THE IDEAL VIRTUES. THE truest and best men and women are those who are either consciously or unconsciously obeying the old command, " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself." To love God in this way means also to love the spirit of God, Truth and Right; to love these above one's own life, and even above the life and happiness of those who are nearest and dearest. This love for the Ideal Good is the first and greatest law of our ethics at the present time. What, then, is Truth? What is Right? Truth is the law upon which the universe is built; it is the wisdom of God. No human mind will ever grasp it. We see only a small part of it at a time. Many fragments have been gathered together slowly by succeeding generations of men. Such fragments of Truth are called truths. There is mental, moral, and physical truth. Moral truth is Right. Truth is always passive; it never forces itself upon the mind. It is, and that is all. The human mind must seek it, must quarry it, as it were, must formu- late the underlying truths or laws from the superficial truths or phenomena. Error is misconception of a truth, mental, moral, or 87 88 Moral Culture as a Science. physical; falsehood is its denial. The mind may ac- cept an error and reject a truth. It can never accept a known falsehood; it simply rejects it. The rejection may not be admitted before the world, or even to the mind itself; but it is impossible for the mind to accep a known untruth, however much, from motives of ex- pediency, it may desire to do so. When a proposition is true to the understanding, when it appears demon- strated as a fact, then it is accepted. On the other hand, when its untruth appears demonstrated, then it is rejected, and that, whether acceptance or rejectance be admitted or denied. Between demonstrated truth and demonstrated un- truth lies a wide field comprising the undemonstrated. Within this lie all those statements or propositions that do not admit of proof or demonstration which is equally convincing to all minds. These the mind be- lieves or disbelieves, accepts or rejects, as probable truths. Every mind accepts as true some undemon- strated propositions. Truth is not affected by men's acceptance or rejec- tance of it. A truth may be rejected by all men con- tinuously for ages; it may never be recognized. Yet it remains a truth, unchangeable and everlasting, as the distant star remains a star, whether the rays reach this planet or are lost in space before arriving here. Truth is always the same, and when it apparently changes, it is not truth, but the standpoint of the ob- server, which is altered. Right is always right, and wrong is always wrong, but the right and wrong of special acts may vary with the circumstances which produce and the judgment which indorses them. The The Ideal Virtues. 89 knowledge of Truth is becoming more and more widely diffused among men, dissipating the clouds of error and ignorance which darkened their minds. The knowledge of truths, classified, is Science. There are mental, moral, and physical sciences. These sciences now enter into men's lives as never before in the history of the world. Mental science is applied in the acquisition of all knowledge, while the applica- tion of physical sciences to the matters of daily life is constantly increasing, and knowledge that would have startled the sages of former days now belongs to every schoolboy. Moral truth carried out in men's lives is virtue. This is fundamentally different from mental science. Our mental attainments, even if not practiced in later life, still benefit us by the greater mental power which their mastery has given us, and also in the general information gained. But a moral truth must live- it must grow. If it does not grow, the life will die out of it, and nothing but the husk will be left. This is "cant." The ideal virtues are truthfulness, honesty, justness, and humility. Truthfulness may be defined as the will, first, to see the self, and all that relates to it, in its true light; and second, to frankly present to others this true self. To have the will to see one's self without sophistication does not necessarily mean that one will succeed in doing so. Among the many errors which men are constantly making, none is so common as a misconception of their own char- acter. At themselves they look through the glasses of their best thoughts and the mists of their good 90 Moral Culture as a Science. intentions, until they have very vague conceptions of their real selves, though they may have the desire to be truthful. Thus a man remembers his noble emotions in connection with a needy case, and forgets that his meager contribution, and not the stirring of his imagination, measures his real self. To see the self in its true light requires not only the will to do so, but it requires also justness and honesty. The tendency of the human mind is toward overesti- mation of self, its better qualities and emotions, and an underestimation of everything which detracts from these. Thus man naturally regards with very kindly eyes all his virtues, and gives himself credit for his good deeds. But he does not apply the same magnifying standard to the other side of his character. He calls his vices "faults," while his faults are "eccentricities," quite excusable in a man of his mental and moral caliber. If men saw their actions in the light of truth, un- screened and undisguised by the sophistries of selfish indulgence, only the lowest and most degraded would do that which is directly opposed to moral principles. But men do not like to draw aside this veil of sophis- tries with which they hide their faults from their own eyes, through which a degrading vice may be made to appear a small and an easily pardoned offense. They rather incline to hold it firmly, and to their pet vices they give some circumscribing or facetious ap- pellation, lest its true name should shock their sensi- bilities too much. Thus a man is not drunk; he is The Ideal Virtues. 91 "three sheets in the wind," "a little mellow," etc. Yet how disgusted is every one when a woman has taken enough of any alcoholic drink to be distinctly affected hy it. Such a woman is always simply "drunk." In the case of men the disgusting vice is veiled, for men have felt only too often that they might some time be found in a similar condition them- selves. With women the offense is so rare that it is seen in its true and utterly repulsive light, and there- fore a drunken woman is always "drunk." No doubt women are less often "drunk," because giving this offense its right name produces such disgust that they more easily overcome any temptation toward indulgence. In the same way men and women hide from their own eyes their dishonesty, selfishness, uncharitable- ness, by such adages as " Business is business," " Let each look out for number one," etc. Even highway rob- bery and murder undergo this transformation. In mining districts a man does not wantonly commit murder, he " draws a bead on his man," and the rob- ber becomes a " road agent." Yet truthfulness is a necessary foundation for all virtue. Whatever lacks this foundation is falsehood. To be truthful, man must be what he appears to be, and he must have the courage to see himself as he is, and to present himself to others in that light. It is not necessary, in order to be truthful, that a man should expose all his thoughts and feelings, but he must, as far as is in his power, give others the oppor- tunity of estimating at their true value those thoughts, words, and deeds of which they become cognizant. 92 Moral Culture as a Science. Thus he must not let others think that the large do- nation which he gave as a matter of policy or as a business advertisement was prompted by generosity. He should never speak of it as a gift of charity, but should frankly expose his motives, lest others be de- ceived. A truthful man is truthful in small as well as in great things, in thought and deed, as well as in word. He would prefer to hear an unpleasant truth rather than a pleasant untruth. To him the truth is always welcome. The truthful man will not fall into the opposite extreme of depreciating himself and all his deeds. Rarely will man do this in his own esti- mation; often in conversation with others. This is as much an act of deception as is overestimation. By the truthfnl man the truth is fairly and honestly sought and given in all things. HONESTY may be considered as truthfulness applied to the material things of life, to the " mine and thine." The honest man desires that the right shall prevail. Opinions of right differ, but a man who is truthful and honest has learned to know the power which self- interest exerts upon all minds, and he will therefore be watchful that it does not blind him to the rights of others in matters of property. He will eschew all doubtful means of obtaining wealth. It is surprising how many business methods now in vogue must be rejected by the strictly honest man. Among these are all those various gambling operations and all specu- lation in which a man invariably hopes to obtain money or its equivalent for which he does not intend to make a fair return. The Ideal Virtues. 93 HUMILITY is truthfulness united to appreciation of our own littleness compared with the Ideal in its grandeur. Those who are truly humble will feel this littleness even when they are called to high positions. They will not be elated by their success, but they will feel that the higher position calls for greater watch- fulness in fulfilling the higher duties. They will in this way become humbled rather than elated by pro- motion. We find many men in high positions living up to the maxim that " might is right." Most educated people would be ashamed to confess that they act upon this principle, but there are few persons called to positions of power who can remain servants and not indulge their imagination in the pleasant sense of mastery. In his novel, " The Lost Manuscript," Gus- tave Freitag makes an exhaustive psychological study of a peculiar form of insanity which he calls the " Caesarean malady." The author's research has ex- tended only to crowned autocrats, whose malady is easily traced in history. Such rulers as Nero, Henry VIII, Louis XIV, Elizabeth of England, and Catherine of Russia are representative types. Yet the Csesarean malady does not attack only royal autocrats, but with few exceptions it attacks all who have absolute power over others. They are to be found in the home, the school, the office, on board ship, etc. Only truthful, humble men can escape the disease; a conceited, vain- glorious man falls most easily its victim. Of all our Presidents, Abraham Lincoln was the only one who appointed a personal enemy to a position in his Cabi- net. He considered Edwin Stanton the right man for 94 Moral Culture as a Science. the difficult position, and was humble enough to be just even to an enemy, and thus to his country. Justness may be denned as truthfulness combined with honesty and humility. It is the crown of all virtues. In the Bible the children of God are called " the just." To be just, a man must be humble, for only humility gives him the power to put himself in another's place, and look at things from his point of view. A just man will judge actions according to the motive which prompted them, and he will be careful to consider the education and environment of another before con- demning him for having low motives. Only a just man will be able to judge impartially even a person who has forfeited all claims to respect, or persons belonging to a despised race or elass, as, for instance, Indians or tramps. A just man will con- sider the rights of all creatures; the more helpless these may be, the more in need are they of an honest, firm, humane judge. Justness is not alone needed in the courtroom, but even more in the home, the school, the social circle. Untold injustice is committed by well-meaning, self-satisfied men and women who can- not put themselves into the place of another. CHAPTER IV. THE SOCIAL VIRTUES. THE second great ethical law, " Love thy neighbor as thyself," is explained in the Golden Rule. It may be impossible to love those who have wronged us or those who have destroyed our happiness, yet we can treat them justly and with consideration, as we want to be treated by them. Man is a social being. For his happiness he re- quires the presence of his fellow-men. He cannot en- joy life alone, and in his sorrows he longs for the sym- pathy of others. This is natural, instinctive. No man is so degraded or so hardened that he has no trace of this feeling left, and it is one of the first ex- pressions of the awakening intelligence. As soon as the child becomes conscious of itself, it desires the sympathy of its mother. Her kiss heals the bruised finger; her song lulls him to sleep; when he is alone he cries for her presence. Soon he wishes to share his joy as well as his grief with her; her smile calls forth his laughter, and he insists upon putting his candy into her mouth. As he grows older he takes an interest in her grief, and when he sees her sad he weeps with her or tries to comfort her. Thus the de- sire to receive sympathy is early accompanied by the reciprocal desire to give it; one completes and rounds out the other, and these develop into the Love of Man, the source of the social virtues. 95 96 Moral Culture as a Science. This love is the source of man's greatest happiness. What beauty gives to the material world, love gives to the moral nature. Beauty and love are naturally associated, and the object of our affections becomes beautiful in our eyes. Love is the sun which brightens human life. As the sun illuminates dark places and drives away shadows, so the reciprocal love and in- terest between man and man bring joy and happiness where there was sorrow, and lightens, where it canno* remove, grief. The sun's rays break into many colors, each having its own particular beauty, lending variety to the objects of nature; so Love of Man is the source of various virtues, each adding its part to the general happiness and advancement of mankind. From love spring Sympathy, Kindness, Generosity, Consideration, Self-forgetfulness, Gratitude, Patriotism. Where these enter actively into human life, driving out avarice, jealousy, envy, hatred, it obtains an ele- ment of completeness which can never be given by the development of any other faculties. Even the cultivation of the highest virtues, other than the social ones, can never supply that possibility of pure human happiness which comes through these. Gratitude for benefits received calls forth the desire to repay them; it is the source of patriotism, which is a gratitude toward the country from which a man has received sustenance and protection. Filial affection is a form of gratitude, the highest form; but it can hardly be called a virtue, as it is a natural instinct, belonging to all normal human beings. Certain good men have been spoken of as great philanthropists, just as we speak of great painters or The Social Virtues. 97 great musicians. Friendship for mankind would seem to be a natural condition, for most children have kindly inclinations and enjoy the consciousness of be- ing helpful to others; yet philanthropy is a rare virtue. Why is this so? As a rule, children are generous by nature. As gen- erosity, however, does not help, but rather hinders, " getting along in the world," parents teach systemati- cally, by precept and example, the desirability of sharp business habits and the necessity for selfishness in the struggle for existence, expressed by the phrase, " Always take care of number one." This is unfortunate, but it has its reasons. The present competitive indus- trial system justifies parents in, almost forces them to, this mode of action, if they are to prepare their chil- dren for the struggle that awaits them in after life. It has been said, man must be either " a hammer or an anvil"; which means that he must either beat or be beaten: either push others, or be pushed to the wall himself. This battle against such terrible odds it is which makes of human beings, naturally well- disposed, and even of generous persons, hard rivals or unyielding and merciless taskmasters. It is asserted that only a small proportion of those who engage in business succeed in obtaining a com- petence. The perpetual grinding struggle of those who barely obtain a living, and are continually harassed by the fear of losing their sustenance, is pitiful in the extreme. What wonder, then, that parents wish to save their children from the struggle which they themselves may have bitterly felt, and so do all they can to enable them to reach that upper stratum of the successful 98 Moral Culture as a Science. " three per cent " ? What wonder that they early teach them to throw overboard, as obstructive and undesir- able ballast, all those natural tendencies which would make them more thoughtful for the man whom they must elbow out of the way if they themselves would reach the desired goal? This danger and fear of want make selfishness and trickery seemingly necessary among ordinary men, who are not endowed with exceptional business capacity. Fear of want is a great incentive to crime, and often the grave of all nobler aspirations; too often the grave of the social virtues. On the other hand, upon this soil flourish envy of another's success, " Brodneid" ("bread-envy"), jealousy, hatred, dishonesty, which embitter and destroy the pleasure man should, and otherwise would, feel over the success of others. With these impressions of life children grow up, and so they lose the open-hearted generosity which is the birthright of man. Were it not for this, every man, almost, would be a philanthropist. As it is, only those who originally possessed those social virtues in a greater degree, or in whom the circumstances of early life favored a different development, or both, reach the position which all should attain, and exem- plify the possibilities of a humanity different from that which we now know. Of these was Louis Agassiz. He was one of nature's noblemen. He was brought up under rarely fortunate surroundings. All men were to him as brothers, and his kindness and justness extended to the animal world. Every little living being was to him an object The Social Virtues, 99 of loving human interest; and so kindly did he treat them all, that it was said that serpents, birds, insects, soon came at his desire. In all animals Agassiz saw living creatures worthy of thoughtful care and kindly consideration; but in all men he saw brothers, and he never forgot to treat the lowest or most illiterate among them with the courtesy and respect which the dignity of his hu- manity deserved. In society he was not a brilliant man, but wherever he was his happy spirit warmed and gladdened all who came under its influence. Such a character shows what a human life can and should be. True, it may not yet, under existing con- ditions, be possible for many men to reach so high a standard, but may we not hope that, as these condi- tions improve, the few isolated examples of to-day may be typical of the majority of mankind at a not too distant future? At all events, the possible ideal which has been reached by a few should be looked upon as the standard to be aspired to by all. The struggle for material existence is still too in- tense to leave the moral nature opportunities for per- fect unfolding. But much improvement in that line is even now possible. The failure to reach a higher standard of morality than that at present attained is often due to ignorance. When teachers shall have be- come deeply interested in elevating the moral standard and cultivating the social virtues, then a higher level will be reached by all. Love of Man is the source of the greatest human happiness, even now. How happy are those families 100 Moral Culture as a Science. in which parents, sons, and daughters are all united by bonds of unselfish love, where one stands for all and all for one, where true friendship and sympathy exist, even though many different interests are repre- sented. How happy and how fortunate is the man or woman who possesses a true friend, a friend to whom to give all, a friend from whom to accept all, a friend to whom to go for consolation in sorrow, advice in trouble, joyous sympathy in happiness. And what pleasure, not only to receive, but to give, such friendship, for- getting the amount given in the joy of giving, as the amount received in the joy of receiving. Such friendship is rare at present. Perhaps the mass of mankind is not yet capable of it. As man rises higher in the moral scale he will perceive more clearly the happiness to be gained for himself and others through the exercise of the social virtues, and then, with improved social conditions, it is to be hoped that such friendships may be the rule, instead of the exception, among mankind. But not friendship only is to be considered. How much of happiness, or the opposite, does not man re- ceive through those who are not particularly near and dear to him. The pleasant smile, the cordial greeting, the friendly advice, the helpful hand, the considera- tion of manner which remembers not only the welfare of others, but also their feelings, the readiness to help up, instead of pushing down, all these go to increase the sum of human happiness, even now. While at present perfect development of the social virtues is impracticable without serious injury to self- The Social Virtues. 101 interests, yet, even now, much can be done much more than is done to make life happier. It is un- questionably true that " More offend from want of thought Than from any want of feeling." This want of thought, therefore, is one of the things which it will be the teacher's province to correct. BENEVOLENCE, or good will, is one of the foundation feelings of the social virtues. True good will towards others, what can it not do? It is the keynote in the harmony of man's social happiness, and all kind deeds that have been performed, all noble and self-sacrificing deeds, have been produced in part by this ennobling feeling of good will. But good will alone is not very effective. A man may have much good will towards others, but if he have still more towards himself, it will not prevent him from being selfish in his actions; and this selfishness is the more objectionable when it is constantly accompanied by words of benevolence which may be honestly meant, i.e., that they are not prompted by a spirit of hypocrisy; but they are never- theless often utterly at variance with the man's actions. Such false benevolence may deceive not only the man himself into the belief that he is really noble, true, unselfish, and highly benevolent, but others also. He deceives by his words and manner, and also by occa- sional injudicious acts of charity which he sometimes performs, less from a desire to benefit the person upon whom it is bestowed, than to awaken in others and himself the admiration which generosity usually calls forth. A benevolent man of this sort loves to give of that which he does not need, because to give is " god- 102 Moral Culture as a Science. like," and to give alms to the poor greatly exalts the giver. Hence benevolence is of two kinds: the true and the false, good will and good wish. As has been said, true benevolence, to be useful, must be directed in its actions by judgment. Yet bet- ter is this, when combined with self-forgetfulness, even without being so directed, than the spurious article, which needs no directing, there being not enough of real good will in it ever to influence actions, or to do more than to produce a crop of fine-sounding words. KINDNESS is an active good will, manifesting itself in a desire to do that which will give others pleasure and benefit. It is always prompted by a feeling of sym- pathy, so cheering and pleasant in all friendly inter- course. Kindness is the small coin of life, making pleasant and convenient all the little interchanges of service which are necessary between man and man. Nor does kindness consider whether an equivalent has been rendered for services given. Kindness extends itself to the animal kingdom., Rarely will any one who is kind to man be unkind to a dumb brute depending upon him, or which is acci- dentally in his power. And the converse holds equally true: the man who is kind to animals will usually be still more so to his fellow-men, while the one who forgets that animals are entitled to kind treatment can hardly be trusted to treat with kindness the weak of his own race. The boy who tortures a dog, or pulls out the legs of the hapless fly, or throws stones at a horse that cannot escape him, has a great many lessons to learn in kindness. The Social Virtues. 103 GENEROSITY consists of a free and ready giving of that which one has to give and values. This does not always mean the giving of money. Many a man who has wealth, and places no value upon it, will give it as freely as water to those who know how to flatter him; this is not generosity. The man may be any- thing but generous. He may give of money, yet may be utterly unable to forgive the least wounding of his self-love, the least act which he considers as a slight or injury. Such a man is not generous. The gener- ous man gives freely whatever he can to increase the happiness of others, and so increases his own; for in giving others pleasure he finds his. Not only does he give money, but time, thought, consideration; and a generous man is ever ready to forget a wrong, never holding tenaciously to the memory of an injury re- ceived. Generosity may go too far. In trying to assist others a man may forget not only his own good, this he has, in one sense, a moral right to do, but also the welfare of those who have direct claims upon him. Such generosity is very rare, as all the child's education is directed towards preventing it; but when found, it sometimes causes much unpleasantness in the family circle. We are bound by the second great ethi- cal law to do unto others only as we would have them do unto us; and surely we should be unwilling to accept from others what they need more than we do ourselves. CONSIDERATION. Perhaps no quality among the social virtues causes so much of direct happiness to all with whom a man comes in contact as the exercise of this quality of consideration. Consideration is kind- 104 Moral Culture as a Science. ness united with thoughtfulness. It may be denned as an intellectual kindness. As the virtues are every- where enhanced in value and effectiveness by being united with mental qualities, so it is here. Consider- ation is superior to mere kindness. Many a person is kind, but forgets to be considerate; every considerate person is also kind. The considerate man not only does the kind deed which he sees is needed, but he also does it in such a way that it will be pleasant to the receiver. He re- members of the Golden Rule, not the letter only, and puts himself completely into the other's place, forget- ting every feeling of selfish gratification at being the one to do the kindness. He makes all his words and actions show the thought he takes for the satisfaction of the other, as if it were himself. Almost every man is considerate of himself and his own feelings. How careful he is when he finds fault with himself, remem- bering to bring forward all the excuses which he rea- sonably can; how he seeks for and brings out his best motives; in receiving kindnesses from others, how successfully he persuades himself that he is entitled to them. The considerate man does all this for his neighbor, and in all his intercourse with him, both of a business and of a social character, he has his neigh- bor's feelings in view, and, where practicable and pos- sible, also his interest. GRATITUDE. Gratitude for benefits received is an- other of the social virtues which needs to be cultivated. From the day of his birth to the day of his death, man is indebted to others for a thousand services which he must return, partly in kind, partly only through a The Social Virtues. 105 sense of his obligation, which produces an affectionate remembrance of the services rendered. Gratitude is an instinctive feeling, and is strong in the higher animals and in most of the savage races. Among the latter, ingratitude is generally stigmatized as one of the lowest of vices. Among civilized men, competition has become so great, the undignified scramble no other word will express it for wealth and position is so active and intense, that men for- get only too often the promptings of this fundamental feeling, and ruthlessly push aside and out of the way the very man who gave them the initial impulse toward success. Yet a strong, deep gratitude is often found even among these competing rivals, which colors a person's action for years, perhaps for life. PATRIOTISM is gratitude toward the country which has given the man a home and sustenance. It is, like ordinary gratitude, inborn, nourished by lifelong associations, and developed, in its higher form, into a strong and deep affection for the country and its in- stitutions. Patriotism, more than any other one virtue, has inspired thousands, yea, millions, of men and women to sacrifice life, wealth, position, everything, for the country they love. Strongest, most powerful, most noble, has patriotism always been under demo- cratic governments. SENTIMENTALITY. A few words on this subject may not be amiss. Where there is anything true, there is always something false to simulate it. Sentimentality may try to receive honors by imitating her nobler sis- ter, Sentiment. Sentimentality shows itself in various ways. The benevolence which is only on the lips; 106 Moral Culture as a Science. the kindness towards animals which forgets reason and the right and dignity of humanity, as when a buxom girl exclaimed, with meekly upturned eyes, that she "could never love any one who could deliberately kill a mosquito," these are examples of sentimentality. It is the sentimental persons who go about pauper- izing the poor, and degrading themselves by alms- giving, alms-giving, where they should give either work, or cheerfully a part of themselves in thought, kindnesSj and consideration, which should accompany assistance to a needy fellow-creature. So-called "alms- giving," in ninety-nine per cent of the cases in which it does not come from a simple desire for honor and credit, has its origin in sentimentality only. The giving which proceeds from true love of man, true generosity, true sentiment, does not call or consider itself "alms- giving," but only needful help. There is a sentimental kindness toward "the poor," or to "inferiors," which is too often mistaken for gen- uine kindness and generosity of feeling. This senti- mentality never for a moment forgets the wide gulf fixed between the person giving it and the one to whom it is extended. It is an utterly unworthy feeling, which, though it may not always offend the latter, must of necessity degrade the former, for it is based upon a conception of humanity which is in itself low- ering to the nature of man. The person who thus kindly condescends to "stoop" to an "inferior" will himself bow down humbly before a " superior," and in this humility there will be as little of self-respect of dignified manhood or woman- hood as there was in his condescending kindness towards the "inferior." The Social Virtues. 107 Sentimentality is false, and everything false is always, and under all circumstances, lowering and degrading to the moral nature. This, then, teachers should earnestly and carefully guard against; and while in every way training and maturing true en- nobling sentiment, they should uproot and cast away into the uttermost darkness all false "gush" and sentimentality. This is most happily expressed by Miss Jane Ad- dams, founder of the first college settlement of Chicago . She says, "There is nothing more dangerous than being good to people. You must be good with people. Here lies the secret of the success of a college settle- ment." flart CHAPTER I. METHODS OF REACHING THE CHILD. THE course in ethics differs from that of any other branch of study, because the question of right and wrong is a constant consideration in the life of a child. He may be able to put aside all thought of arithmetic, grammar, geography, or spelling when he leaves his schoolroom; but this question of the right and wrong of things follows him even to his game-ground; it is a consideration which is constant with all normal chil- dren, and for that reason a frank study of the subject is of interest to them. In teaching morality it is very important that the faculty of imagination be cultivated. The develop- ment of this powerful factor in training is too often neglected. Imagination brings poetry and sunshine into the world of the child; it transforms the bundle of rags into a beautiful baby, or the stick into a pran- cing steed. The child is carried out of his humdrum existence into a world peopled by heroes and heroines, whose feats of valor or whose irresistible charms are copied from stories which have been heard or read. For very imaginative children there is great danger in this day-dreaming. When awakened to face the dis- agreeable realities of life, they are disgusted, and can- not control their ill-humor, because of the contrast between fancy and reality. They are then likely to compare their conditions with those of more favored 108 Methods of Reaching the Child. 109 companions, and thus fall into the deplorable habit of self-pity. This is fatal to happiness; no more unfor- tunate creature can be imagined than one who per- sists in self-pitying reflections as to the poor chances in life which he may have had, the lack of means to carry out his ambitions, or the great good which he might have done had he been in certain desirable conditions of life. Many thus waste their whole lives in a vain longing for the unattainable advantages which physical charms or great wealth alone can give. If the imagination has thus been allowed to degenerate into phantasy, it is difficult to bring it under control later; yet, without a trained imagina- tion, the attainment of the false ideas which reign in this world of fancy will become the motive of the en- tire life. If, however, the imagination is trained in youth, it will clothe dry facts with beauty, and make hard study a delight. In this way it will serve to idealize the real conditions and facts of life, so that children's eyes may be opened to the poetry which is possible everywhere. Children should learn to see that the mastery of self, the victory of truth over false- hood on the battle-field of each inner life, is a greater triumph than the taking of a city. When they have learned to appreciate the chances which their simple every-day life offers for greatness, they will usually leave off day-dreaming and wishing for things as they are not, and never can be. True happiness lies in the real things of life, those which are in our power to change. Epictetus the Stoic "The lord of each of us is he that hath power over 110 Moral Culture as a Science. the things which we desire or dislike, to give or to take away. Whosoever, then, will be free, let him neither desire nor shun any of the things that are in others' power; otherwise he must needs be enslaved." A teacher who is filled with the desire to " make the real, ideal," will teach his pupils to feel that nothing has a greater value than a life spent for a great idea. He will make them understand that there is no com- parison between the greatness of such men as Frobel and Jay Gould. Few of us will be as well known as is Frobel, yet all can be as true and brave and useful as he was. Each one of us can be one in life and motive with the greatest men of all times. A few more suggestions as to ways and means of presenting the subject of ethics to children may be useful here. Four general lines of work will be discussed in this connection. 1. The childish habit of repeating over and over again some rhythmic verse or sentence may serve a good purpose by giving children beautiful poems and short prose selections to commit to memory. 2. They should study the lives of the noblest men and women of all times. This gives a conception of " ethics in the concrete." It is said that, next to fiction, there is now the greatest demand for biographical works in our public libraries. Especially are half-grown boys and girls who are beginning to plan for the future life-work interested in these true stories of real life. Stories from such works as " Whewell's History of Inductive Science " are also useful, as they show the " human " side of each great scientific discovery, and rouse the imagination in a wholesome way. Methods of Reaching the Child. Ill 3. The more analytical consideration of the prin- ciples of ethics, as will naturally be suggested by the study of noble and useful lives, and the careful study of words which express the virtues to be acquired. 4. The special duties and obligations of the in- dividual should be studied and discussed in the higher grades. This might include the duties of the domestic relations, of children to parents, parents to children; the duties of the employer to his employees, and vice versa; of the business man to his patrons, and those of the citizen toward his country. This work will require research in history and biog- raphy, and will, in that way, be the means of making reading and discussion a pleasure to intelligent young people. One caution here may not be entirely amiss. Never should any rules or principles of Morality be pre- sented in an argumentative manner, or as if the point taken needed proof. The use of the circumflex, or the rising inflection, should be avoided in speaking of moral laws, moral necessities, or moral duties. The imagination of the child is caught by positive state- ments. Moreover, it is a peculiarity of all unculti- vated minds instinctively to doubt any statement which is supported by argument. The "this must be so because " leads to the unconscious feeling that if there is any necessity for reinforcing the opinion ex- pressed by a "because," there is a reasonable doubt of its truth. The feeling is sometimes so strong that the argument presented, which may be incontrovertible, is entirely lost sight of, and the result is a doubt in the mind of the hearer. The statements made should, for this reason, be couched in positive language and 112 Moral Culture as a Science. end with the falling inflection. Pupils should be called upon to cite, not proofs to establish, but exam- ples to illustrate any point which may be under con- sideration. The several lines of work mentioned may be carried on together, especially in the higher grammar schools; each will be found to supplement the others. During the first two years of school life the work is necessarily oral. Poems should be committed to memory and stories told and reproduced. Not until about the third year will note-books be of much use. Into these all poems and prose selections might be copied and later memorized. We do too little memo- rizing of the old-fashioned, exact kind. This gives an opportunity to store the memory with some of the gems of literature. A little girl once committed to memory the following lines from " Hiawatha " : " Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple, Who have faith in God and Nature, Who believe, that in all ages Every human heart is human, That in even savage bosoms There are longings, yearnings, strivings, For the good they comprehend not, That the feeble hands and helpless, Groping blindly in the darkness, Touch God's right hand in that darkness And are lifted up and strengthened." " It took me ten years to understand those words," she said when she had grown to womanhood, " but little by little they became the greatest moral factor of my life. Small prejudices were crowded out of my mind; a great sympathy with all those who, like my- Methods of Reaching the Child. 113 self, were ' groping blindly in the darkness,' an ap- preciation of the t hearts that are fresh and simple,' and the feeling that the whole human family is a great brotherhood, grew strong within me. All this, and more than I can say, came to me from those few lines which I committed to memory as a child, because the rhythm pleased me." A class of third-year children had copied the follow- ing from Longfellow's poem on the " Fiftieth Birthday of Agassiz," in their note-books: " And Nature, the old nurse, took The child upon her knee, Saying, ' Here is a story-book Thy Father has written for thee. " ' Come, wander with me,' she said, * Into regions yet untrod ; And read what is still unread In the manuscripts of God.' " And he wandered away and away With Nature, the dear old nurse, Who sang to him night and day The rhymes of the universe. " And whenever the way seemed long, And his heart began to fail, She would sing a more wonderful song, Or tell a more marvelous tale." The children read the poem; only here and there a hint was given as to what the story-book was which our Father had written for us; and though they could not express it, they felt from their previous stories about Agassiz's life-work what the " manuscripts of God " 114 Moral Culture as a Science. must be. There are few poems in our language with words so simple, yet with meanings so suggestive of great things. In this school the children had always been encour- aged to recite something helpful, or to tell some story which they themselves had read from the " manu- scripts of God," as an opening of the day's work. Upon the morning after this poem had been read, a little boy said eagerly, " I learned that poem by heart, that we had yesterday! " In reciting it his voice betrayed the emotion which he felt as his mind expanded to take in the great meanings. The children felt the charm; be had touched all hearts. " I was saying it over and over to myself all day yesterday, even in my sleep," he said simply. The good in memorizing these gems of thought is life-lasting. How often in after years, when a great passion or deep sorrow is holding the whole inner life almost passive with pain, will some poem, freighted with holy meanings, rise up in the mind too weary to think, and bring hope and comfort. All teachers know how eagerly children read stories of noble men and women, and how powerfully true greatness appeals to them. It proves the truth of the poet's words, " 'T is life whereof our nerves are scant, More life, and fuller, that we want." Children are so apt to think that heroes are only those great men of whom we read in history. In his " Reminiscences of Brunson," Dr. Max Muller says, " He is a great man, who is honest, unselfish, and brave." With this estimate in mind, children will Methods of Reaching the Child. 115 grow to appreciate the true greatness of the simple people as they see them every day. The kind, hard- working man who is always trying to help others bear their burdens, forgetting that his own are heavy; the woman with the great mother-heart that takes into her sympathies all. the little ones living near; the thousand unselfish, brave acts which they did not no- tice before, all these will become significant to them, and their lives will be wonderfully enriched. This estimate of greatness, moreover, excludes many a man whom they might be inclined to admire unduly for deeds of physical courage. Morally, a fearless man may be a coward. He may willingly sacrifice prin- ciples for the sake of being popular, or he may be dis- honest and exceedingly selfish. They will find that prominence gained by courageous acts may depend wholly upon a powerful physique. With the loss of health and strength their hero may be shorn of all greatness. " He is a great man, who is honest, unselfish, and brave." A class of children who had discussed this added the following: "There are many great men of whom the world hears nothing." They had learned from Napoleon's life something of this great soldier's motives; soon after, they had read stories from the life of Samuel Gridley Howe, his soldier career in Greece, -his work for the blind, and the education of Laura Bridgman, deaf, dumb, and blind. Whittier's poem, " Oh, for a Knight like Bayard," written of this noble American, had been studied, and partly memo- rized. All this had aroused the enthusiasm of tHe children. During an informal discussion, a boy said, 116 Moral Culture as a Science. "I think Dr. Howe was a greater man than Napoleon, don't you?" Before answering, the teacher asked, "Why do you think so?" "Well, he was every bit as brave as Napoleon, and then he was unselfish and honest, while Napoleon was just always fighting for himself." It might be argued that it is not wise to lead chil- dren to think so seriously; but when we remember that our truly great men and women have, with a few exceptions, learned to take serious matters seriously in childhood, and since the children who are learning to reason on serious subjects are more likely to have a far happier childhood than their more thoughtless com- panions, is there any danger in a reasonable amount of character-study? Children become neither "con- science-haunted " nor "priggish" if the observations are never applied to themselves. It serves merely to turn the musings of the busy little thinkers into no- bler channels of thought. An admirable device for fixing great literary events in chronological order is suggested by Miss M. E. Burt in her book, " Literary Landmarks." A long line rep- resents the centuries divided into the two eras, B.C. and A.D., by the Cross. Upon this line the monu- ments of great writers fix distinctly in the child's mind the time in which each lived. The same device may be used in teaching the lives of great men, those who have given their lives for the advancement of the human race, whether in literary, scientific, artistic, or philanthropic lines. The more analytical study of moral principles will go hand in hand with character-study. The term Methods of Reaching the Child. 117 "personal," "ideal," or " social" virtues may or may not be used with the older children, as the teacher may see fit; but the principles should be taught. So many emotional persons, enthusiastic for " the good, the true, and the beautiful," would become better balanced, and their efforts would result in far greater good, if they had learned to discern ethical principles. As it is, they are apt to be carried away with each new fad in doing good, and not see that the underlying principles often will not bear inspection. Literature of an " indefinitely elevating " character finds appre- ciative readers among them, yet when the stress of a great temptation is brought to bear upon them, the emotions may be led astray by the sophistries of the new desires. Intellectual moral culture is invaluable; it leads to that rare combination of experience, kindness, unself- ishness, and keen moral insight which the Bible calls wisdom. The new duties which devolve upon the individual on reaching adult life should be very thoroughly dis- cussed in the higher grades of the grammar school. In some church denominations, children between the ages of twelve and sixteen are given a year's instruc- tion in these matters before confirmation. They re- ceive, besides the religious training, definite moral instruction, which is to prepare them for the time when they will be held responsible for their own acts. The result of this training often lasts through life. Can we believe that the influence of a Dr. Arnold, a Charles Kingsley, or a Phillips Brooks can ever be for- gotten? And the power for good which these men 118 Moral Culture as a Science. possessed lay, not in their scholarly attainments, nor in mere gifts of eloquence; their power lay in their unquestioning devotion to the ideal, and their abound- ing faith in the innate good in men. Boldly they appealed to this good; where it was dormant, they aroused it. So must it be with us. We must always remember that the people who died at the stake for their belief, or those who fought for the rights of the weak and down-trodden in the early days of chivalry, were not made of finer clay than are the boys and girls of to-day. " Earth has its royal natures yet, Brave, tender, true, and sweet." We must have faith, unalterable faith, in the innate nobility of the child. It is faith which removes moun- tains, mountains of suspicion and distrust. Even now in our crowded schools, where teaching according to psychological principles is wellnigh im- possible, this faith in the child the desire to believe in the best that is in him ( at the same time not ignor- ing, but helping him to overcome, the worst) will be the means by which a teacher may rise above all con- ditions, and make the spirit of the school a benedic- tion to all those who come within its influence. The lines of reading in which young people become interested have a great influence upon them. For instance, many high-school courses in English em- phasize the literary productions of our great orators and statesmen, and whole classes of boys, who have studied the famous arguments and orations, merely as lessons in style, leave school, fired with the ambition to become lawyers. Through the law they hope to Methods of Reaching the Child. 119 enter politics, and in imagination they see the White House as their home. The mistake lies in the fact that the boys had come to admire the great statesmen, not the great men. They should realize from the first that our life-work, in order to be most successful, must be in line with our natural ability; that in honest work, truly done, lies the greatness of men. What we should admire and imitate in great men is, not the profession, but the power of concentration, the faithfulness to a trust, and the unselfishness which will sacrifice all personal considerations to a principle. As in a great building only a comparatively few stones used in its construction can be seen on the sur- face, so in life, only a few great men become famous. Sometimes fame is bought with the price of true great- ness; a man's ambition may prompt him to stoop to ignoble means in order to gain position; his placing self above principle stamps him as a weak character. So the ornamental stones on the outside of the build- ing are often composed of weaker stuff than the gran- ite blocks within. As the law attracts many young men who have am- bitions to become statesmen, so business attracts others who hope to gain pleasure and power by amassing a fortune. This, again, is imitation of some great finan- cier who " started as a poor boy." Very exceptional indeed was a young man of splendid attainments who, on leaving the university, went to teaching in a high school. After several years of successful work he accepted a position with a large corporation, where his salary was doubled and his 120 Moral Culture as a Science. chances for "rising" were good. To the dismay of his friends, however, he deliberately resigned within a year, to again take up the profession of teaching. " It is a sordid life, this scramble after wealth," he said. " To give one's whole time and energy to the ac- quisition of money, trampling under foot all ideals, is unworthy of any good mind. I prefer to do work that will last, that will live and grow; to deal in futures of another kind, in the futures of young men and women. In this work I find my best efforts necessary to success, and promising worthy returns. I was a scientist by nature, and I have found no subjects more interesting than human beings. Why force myself into a life which is alien to me, a life-work which prevents all true development? Agassiz was right, ' We have no time to make money.' >: HABITS. Every act has its significance as the fore- runner of a habit. If the act is such that a habit based upon it would be a desirable one, no more thought need be given it, as a good habit is forming. Most children intend to become good when they grow to be men and women. They know that in the world of men habits of honesty, truthfulness, fairness, are essential qualifications; but they have heard so many good people relate with zest the tricks and vi- cious pranks of their childhood, that they think, " Mr. J. and Mr. K. and papa are good men, yet they were very bad boys. I '11 be like them; I '11 have 'fun' now, and behave myself later on." In some cases when the "bad boy" is confronted with the business of earning a living or learning a trade or studying for a profession, he does behave Methods of Reaching the Child. 121 himself remarkably well, and we say with surprise, " How well he has turned out! " Yet when conditions are unfavorable, the lowest possibilities in his nature often become dominant. Even if he does not turn out a criminal before the law, he may be none the less vicious. If we study the lives of men who have achieved true success, which means a victory over self and a triumph of all the better qualities of their natures, we invari- ably come to the conclusion that the truly great men were those who began in youth the habit of carefully considering questions of right and wrong. Some very practical advantages of forming good habits and leaving a clean record might be explained to children with good effect. There are so many things that children "want" which they know can only be gotten with money, that they are inclined to consider of great importance anything which will have a money value. This utilitarian argument for a clean life will appeal to many who could not appreci- ate the ethical reason. If they feel that in the great world of business the record of even a child is taken into account, it will have a great weight with some, and to all it emphasizes the importance of a good name. All the employees of the Wells Fargo Express Com- pany, for instance, are required to give bond, so that the company is secured in case of loss by the dishonesty of any of the men. When a young man is a candidate for a position, he must give his name, place of birth, former place of residence, the names of old friends, of teachers, etc. These data are turned over to another 122 Moral Culture as a Science. company, that makes a business of going security for any employees who are required to give bond. An agent of this company then ferrets out every possible incident of the man's former life. If this report is a favorable one, the company takes the risk; if dishonesty, trickery, or anything of a doubtful character has come to light by the investigation, the security is refused. The fact that so many public men have found it very embarrassing to face their early record, is making an impression upon the ambitious boys of to-day. Al- though this is a low motive for leading a clean life, it is better than none. On applying to a prominent lawyer for a position to study law, a young man re- marked, "I have kept my record above reproach so far, in school and out of it, and I intend to do so al- ways. Whatever I may do in the future, I shall be all the better for having no skeleton in my past. I want to be perfectly free to devote all my energy to my profession." Ambition prompted this young man to keep a clear record. Later in life he may learn to appreciate it for higher reasons. In preparing to put up a large structure, we dig deep down to the solid ground. Then begins the child- hood of the building, that part which is unseen by the world. Sometimes a building leans, and we say that the foundation is at fault. If a man is not upright in his life, we must conclude that the foundation of his life was badly laid. Seventy per cent of all criminals are said to be under thirty years of age. Had these young people learned to control their lower impulses in child- Methods of Reaching the Child. 123 hood, if they had formed the habit of considering the comfort and happiness of others above their own, and to appreciate the sacredness of a trust, they would not have yielded in the time of temptation, which comes to us all. During the first fifteen or twenty years, children are laying the foundation of their lives in home and school. They work hard, drawing in materials for future use. Happy the child that gathers only the best materials, and receives just enough help in lay- ing his foundation as shall make of him a good workman! CHAPTER II. SCHOOL GOVERNMENT IN ITS RELATION TO MORAL TRAINING. SCHOOL government and moral training, though they work in the same general direction, must not be con- founded with each other. The former is directed towards insuring good behavior in school. The latter has for its primary object the development of the child into a noble man or woman. Some of the strictest and most successful school disciplinarians are most defi- cient in character-building. Though a conscientious teacher will always combine with school government as much of the moral training as possible, yet, in and of themselves, they are distinct. For instance, a good disciplinarian may keep better order in school i.e., may better suppress whispering, outward manifestations of restlessness, etc. than the instructor who seeks principally to elevate the moral standard of his pupils; while the latter may develop more truth, honor, and love of right among the children. Certain natural impulses, such as talking or whisper- ing, walking about, or innocent play, harmless in them- selves, must be curbed or suppressed in the school- room, because they become disturbing influences. A strict disciplinarian will be more annoyed by such offenses against school discipline than by the artful cunning of some hypocrite, and may therefore proceed more energetically against this than against the more 124 School Government in Relation to Moral Training. 125 serious evil. A child measuring the gravity of the cause by the greater effect produced may be thus taught to look upon these misdemeanors in the light of heinous offenses, compared to which lying and hyp- ocrisy are slight. He thus loses the sense of moral proportion, and having first learned to overestimate the moral importance of these offenses against school discipline, he is likely to take the second step, and look upon real wrong as a misdemeanor only. Though school government is not moral training, yet it may be made a great factor in it. In school, the spoiled pet and autocrat of the home is placed on the same level with the other children; his faults are corrected, his pert sayings disregarded, in short, he becomes a failing mortal, and is cured of much of his self-conceit. Another child, bashful and timid, feels, perhaps for the first time in his life, that he is the equal of others, respected for himself in spite of his poor dress or dull comprehension. There, too, chil- dren must give up many of their individual peculiari- ties and learn to conform to certain inflexible rules, which tends to greatly counteract the egotism of the home life. This equalizing process, in itself, is of the greatest moral benefit to all. As in the political world there are all sorts of gov- ernments, from the arbitrary despotism to the free republic, like that of Switzerland, so the same is true of our schools. On the thrones we find such characters as Peter I, Frederick II, Elizabeth of Eng- land, Louis XIV of France, rulers who excelled in military and administrative skill. Yet they were despots, their will was law, and they controlled their 126 Moral Culture as a Science. kingdoms by the force of their arms and the power of their will, without asking either for the wishes or the counsel, though often considering the ultimate good, of their subjects, whose noblest duty was thought to be implicit, unquestioning obedience. Their counterpart is found at rn^any teachers' desks. The teacher makes laws and lays down rules which the pupil must obey implicitly. Their consent or counsel is not asked; they are simply commanded to do this thing and leave the other undone, or bear the consequences. Every rule is strictly enforced, and its violation punished severely when the culprit is caught. In former times parents and teachers often resorted to this method of government, and the man who most skillfully used the rod was considered by many the best schoolmaster. Schools were places for impart- ing a certain amount of knowledge, without regard to the child's inclinations or individuality. To protect these, the child was forced into a warfare, carried on, on his side, by hatred, cunning, or obstinacy; on that of the teacher, by brute force. Such school government does not produce a good moral tone in the school, for it awakens dissatisfaction, and an open or secret spirit of rebellion which is harmful. The children see in the teacher an enemy, and they consider it a glory to annoy him or to evade his rules, the reason of which they will not try to understand and the necessity of which they will not admit. Untruthfulness and hypocrisy are fostered among them, and teacher and pupils alike will learn to hate the school. School Government in Relation to Moral Training. 127 The faults of such a system of school government do not end here. One of its worst moral effects is that it destroys the power of the child's own will, substi- tuting therefor the will of another. Now, nothing is more important in the moral progress of man than that his will should be, not destroyed, but trained; not broken, but strengthened. Therefore the school government which looks only towards enforcing the will of the teacher is harmful in its effects, for it unfits the child to become his own master. As soon as the re- straints are removed he abuses his liberty, for it was neither self-respect nor love for the precepts he obeyed, but fear only, which kept him in bounds. Chil- dren so trained, enjoy, even in after life, the recollection of the tricks they played, and the cunning they dis- played in evading laws and escaping punishment. In the third place, the rules and their reason are not explained, and often the child cannot conceive at all why certain rules have been made. Again, the punishment is arbitrary; there is no ap- parent relation between the rule that is broken and the consequences which follow its infringement. The enforcement of obedience to fixed rules, even though they are not always understood, has, however, its right place in the governing and training of chil- dren. A certain amount of unquestioning obedience is very beneficial to the youthful character, for unless the child has learned to obey, the man will rarely be able to command, either himself or others. The no- table absence of this trait of character in " Young America " is to be regretted. Thus in some instances of entire absence of home 128 Moral Culture as a Science. training, the teacher may find it expedient at first to employ this arbitrary method of government, until the child is far enough advanced to obey from higher motives. While, therefore, the arbitrary method of govern- ment just described is unconditionally to be con- demned as a general guide to the teacher's actions, yet under certain circumstances it may be useful and even necessary. The method of nature in the training of children, advocated by Herbert Spencer and various Ger- man writers before him, consists in adhering as far as possible to the general principles which nature follows in enforcing her laws, and in punishing any infraction thereof. When one of nature's laws is broken, the consequence is generally pain. If a child eats too much, it becomes ill; if it plays with fire, it is very apt to burn its fin- gers; if it climbs into insecure places, it is likely to fall and hurt itself. The punishment is such that the child readily sees the relation between cause and ef- fect. This the teacher can imitate to a certain extent in governing his school. The punishment is made to have a direct and apparent relation to the offense, and to follow as its natural and inevitable consequence. If, for example, a child uses unclean words, his mouth may be washed. The necessity, or at least the justice, of washing out a mouth through which unclean, " dirty" words have passed will be felt if not admitted. Some of the objections against the arbitrary method are removed in this; the rules are not so arbitrary; School Government in Relation to Moral Training. 129 the result of their infraction is a natural and conse- quential one which the child feels is just. It does not produce that spirit of antagonism against law and law-makers which is sure to follow, in spir- ited children, the employment of the more tyrannical method. The child here is not forced to obey at the point of a stick, but his judgment is called into action, the necessity of the law and the inevitable conse- quence of breaking it are impressed upon him, and he modifies his conduct accordingly. This method, however, will be found useful in the schoolroom only when the teacher carries it out much more faithfully than nature does. In the school, where minutes are precious, and many children are gathered together, who differ greatly in character and " trainability," none must take an undue proportion of time out of school hours, absolute obedience to cer- tain fundamental laws must be required, and this can- not always be attained by a strict adherence to nature's sometimes dilatory methods. Again, nature's laws differ from those necessary in the government of all human affairs by human agen- cies, and especially those necessary in moral train- ing, in this respect: Nature allows an individual to go any distance on the road toward an infringement of her laws without punishment, so long as he stops short of the actual offense; or if punishment follows, it may be so distant and indirect that it is often not recognized as the re- sult of the partial infringement of the law. Thus a child may play with fire as much as he likes. Nature permits that, in and of itself. It is only 130 Moral Culture as a Science. when the fire is brought in contact with the skin that she sends a swift and sure retribution; or, indi- rectly, when it is brought into contact with inflamma- ble substances, for instance, little sister's dress. The child does not know, at first, that nature is more kindly disposed, in this respect, towards iron than towards linen or human flesh, allowing the fire to be not only harmless, but beneficial and beautiful in the grate or stove, while it does mischief elsewhere. So when a child moderately overeats habitually, it may suffer but little discomfort from the indulgence. Nature accommodates herself to many of the wishes and imprudences of her children; and though she demands payment of her bill in the shape of an un- wieldy body, yet the relation between cause and effect is not always apparent to the unobservant eye. Again, a child may climb anywhere for a long time without evil results, until some day, trusting his weight to too weak a limb, he falls, and perhaps loses his life or becomes permanently crippled. Or he may remain comparatively uninjured from a fall from a tree, and rolling off a sofa, may break a limb. Nothing could be more opposed to what we consider the laws of nature than the free and habitual use of a violent, irritant poison like arsenic, yet the peasants of Styria eat it almost as freely as we do sugar, and thrive and grow to old age in apparently good health. In the government by merely human agencies, it is not possible to draw the line so closely between that which is harmful and that which merely approaches it. Especially is this true in regard to moral matters. The little involuntary, and almost unconscious, de- School Government in Relation to Moral Training. 131 ceptions practiced by the young child in word and look and deed may by gradual, imperceptible degrees lead him to the felon's cell. The passionate outbursts of the boy or girl, uncontrolled, may later be the cause of a crime which the man or woman would gladly give life itself to undo. Weak yielding to the taste for sweetmeats in childhood may give the taste for strong drink a fatal power. We find that some of the objections against the arbi- trary method of child-government which was formerly in vogue, and which is by no means yet extinct, are corrected in this method of nature. But one remains. It is, again, fear, and fear only, which is relied upon to prevent the child from doing wrong. True, it is not such a blind, unreasoning fear, not a fear which de- stroys the will-power, as the former does. Yet it is only through fear of the consequences that the child is restrained, and he may learn to think that he has a right to do that which is not followed by evil conse- quences to himself, or he may learn to disregard or evade these consequences. Again, he finds very quickly that, though nature may always find the offender, parents and teachers do not. The real instigators of mischief may often escape, while one who is comparatively innocent is punished. Then the greater offender may boast of his knavery and crafty cunning by which he avoided detection and escaped punishment. " I was too smart for the teacher," is his boastful remark to admiring companions. This glorying in the little wrongs which children commit is a great and mischievous wrong which should be prevented. 132 Moral Culture as a Science. Another mode of controlling children is not uncom- mon. Some teachers have a startling faculty of " get- ting children under control." From being unruly in the extreme, a great roomful of them will yield like magic to the spell of a little woman with a pale face and peculiarly firm eyes. She has not the power to whip the smallest one of them, perhaps, and she does not need to resort to physical force; she is armed with a power more potent than the rod. Years ago, perhaps, she suffered intol- erably from criticisms made against her work because of " lack of control." During some sleepless night she made up her mind to " control these children at all hazards." She could not whip them; scolding did no good; so she resorted to force of will. She experi- mented systematically. Every morning she used her great force of will, and by practice became an expert in " switching off" each little individuality and en- throning her own will in place of that of each child. The next report of her work by the supervisor was, " Progressing finely," "Great improvement." Elated at her success, she went on strengthening her powers. Teachers were sent to her by the score to learn from her the secret of success. " I became doubtful of my method," remarked such a teacher, "when I noticed that many of the children, who had been perfect in their behavior under my in- fluence, became absolutely unmanageable under that of another teacher, who did not have my peculiar power, but was, in all other respects, a better teacher. After reading a book on hypnotism, I was forced to confess to myself that I had been, all unconsciously, School Government in Relation to Moral Training. 133 using that power. Sometimes I had been almost startled at my success. But what should I have done these ten years without it, in the great, crowded, un- ruly schools, in the worst quarter of the city, which I have taught? I do not dare to think. I was forced to it by circumstances, and as long as conditions in our schools remain as they are, there will always be more or less of this force practiced upon the children. Our principal teacher at the model school was an ex- pert hypnotist. I see it now. She was not at all pop- ular, but she controlled every one who came within radius of her influence, exactly as I control these children." The question, then, is, " Has the teacher not the right to use her personal influence for good with the children?" In answer, we suggest that there are two kinds of personal influence. The one is the hypnotic power described above, which can only be harmful in its effect. The other is that peculiar wide-awake sym- pathy with child-life which keeps in mind always, even under the most trying circumstances, the child's right to his own individuality, and is determined not to rob him of it, but to arouse him to an appreciation of right. This will strengthen, not dethrone, his will; it convinces the child of the folly of wrong-doing, and teaches him how to dethrone within himself his inner enemies, vice, untruthfulness, blind impulse, and to cling with tenacity to his higher self only. This legiti- mate personal influence always appeals to the child's highest motive. If this happens to be bodily pain, then the teacher should not shrink from inflicting corporal punishment. Many teachers, who have a high ideal 134 Moral Culture as a Science. in education, make the mistake of trying to appeal to children from their own highest motive, and feel con- science-smitten if forced to resort to a lower. They forget how limited the child's experience is. The ef- fect of a sound whipping inflicted just at the right time and in just the right way sometimes saves the child from its lowest possibilities and becomes the turning-point in its life. This question of school-government has been a per- plexing one to all educators. We have heard from the military disciplinarian, who would curb all sponta- neity with an iron hand, and also from extremists like Tolstoi, who denies to any one the right of resisting wrong. In some cities the experiment of separating the vi- cious children from the grades, and placing them in a room apart, under especially strong diciplinarians, was tried. This was effective in relieving the class teacher and making wrong-doing unpopular. The most hopeful movement, however, is that by which child-communities are made self-governing. About five years ago, William R. George founded his Junior Republic on a farm near New York City. The little citizens of this children's city were children from the New York slums. They organized as a city gov- ernment, and the result was like the discovery of a new force in physics, for it was found that within the chil- dren lies the power of self-government. The experiment is now being tried in some cities with marked success. In the average country school, where the community is not yet ready for anything so advanced, it will take School Government in Relation to Moral Training. 135 some time before self-government can be introduced; but in the large child-communities of cities and towns 3 dignified by the sanction of the school authorities, self- government promises to become an established institu- tion. It stands to reason that the young man and woman on entering life will remember the valuable training in the science of government which they may have re- ceived in such schools, and each will be a more law- abiding and law-enforcing citizen. CHAPTER III. THE ETHICAL IN OUR COMMON SCHOOL STUDIES. THE work of the teacher in ethical training is usu- ally that of the sower; the harvest ripens in future years. Many times he may be discouraged, yet if he has done his part faithfully, he need not fear for re- sults. Thistles do not grow upon fig trees. The teacher must first of all try in every way to live true to his own best self, and remember to be ever con- sistent in his demands upon the children, trying al- ways to appeal to the child's best self. As Dr. Arnold worked without ceasing, that his pu- pils might "drink from a running brook, rather than from a stagnant pool," so must all teachers give themselves up to their work. This does not mean that they must overwork; on the contrary, they can only see the true significance of the many trifles which make up success in teaching, if they are rested and physically in good condition; but they must subordi- date their own interests for the time being, and concen- trate all their faculties upon the interests of the chil- dren, not of the "school" taken collectively, but of each child taken individually. Ethical training is a help to the teacher, not an added burden. As the moral insight of the children increases, it will give the teacher something to appeal to in them, and good order will be much more easily 136 The Ethical in our Common School Studies. 137 maintained, as the good will of the children will be enlisted in its favor. If the teacher has aroused the latent scientist in every child, the little truth-seeker who asks so eagerly for the "why" and the "wherefore," they will delight in telling stories of observation, which they may have made. A little time spent each morning in telling observations made of the stars, a flower, what the dog did, the colors in the clouds reproduced in dashes of colored crayon, a noble deed, anything which they may have noticed as beautiful or helpful, will lead the children to observe and appreciate the beautiful and the good in common life. In this way language les- sons, both oral and written, will become much more interesting and spontaneous. If children have learned to think of arithmetic as the truthful study; that it never tells a falsehood, and can always be depended upon; if geography is to them the study of men, with the surroundings in which they live; if the human or vital interest in all lines of work has been emphasized, it will have a distinctly ethical value. For instance, a class of children, after a preparatory lesson on draw- ing a spray of leaves, were urged to "tell the truth" in their work. Added to their knowledge of how to draw it was the desire to be truthful, and the result was charming. The lessons, moreover, went far beyond the physical and mental, into the region of the moral the children were doing their best to be truthful. In our courses of study we usually overrate the chil- dren's power of application. They should be trained to concentrate upon the subjects in hand, but three hours a day of close application is all that an average 138 Moral Culture as a Science. child can endure without sooner or later giving way under the strain. Industry is habitual application, and children should form the habit of concentration; but we do not yet realize the limits of a child's endurance in this re- gard, and by our unreasonable demands upon them we overtax their strength, and nature urges them to rest; this we call idleness. All experienced teachers know how eagerly the children work during the morning hours; how easy it is to hold their attention. The struggle begins in the afternoon, when they are tired. It will be a happy day for childhood when schools are arranged with reference to nature's demands; when the legitimate desire for activity, which always follows a mental strain, will no longer be suppressed, as it is now; when, through the whole school life, the muscles of the body will be considered as worthy of development as the nerve-cells of the body; the muscle centers of the brain as worthy of attention as the thought centers. Useful employment has a most wholesome influence, mentally and morally, as well as physically. It gives them a happy sense of ownership in the skill of their hands and a desire to exercise this skill in their leisure hours. W. N. Hailmann, in his work on " Primary Methods," happily expresses the result of hand-training. He says, "It enables the child to gain a knowledge which the current subjects of school instruction represent, in a manner more suited to his tastes and powers; in a complete, all-sided, active, ideal, child-life, in which he is upheld and strengthened by the constant joy of success, the steady glow of growing power." I CHAPTER IV. REFLECTIONS. THE VALUE OF TIME. The most precious thing in the world is a human life; its influence remains for- ever, either for good or evil. Since all progress has been made by means of the application of human time or thought to the powers of nature, we conclude that there must have been many more well-spent lives than lives badly spent. Some pessimists declare that there has been no progress; that the world was never yet as helpless against wrong, and that the majority of mankind were never yet so deplorably unhappy as now. But only a superficial student of history could hold this belief. Slowly, but surely, we are nearing the better time which is coming, when oppression and tyranny will be no more. Never before has religious fanaticism, for instance, been as little in evidence as now, and a human life has never been valued as highly as it is to-day. Much has been done, but there yet remains much to be accomplished. Society at large does not yet realize the wisdom of saving even human time of making the most of every human life intrusted to it. Hence there is a deplorable waste of time. As a matter of economy, for instance, we give from forty to sixty children to be trained by one teacher, regardless of the fact that it is an absolute impossibility for one teacher to make the most of the time to sixty, or yet to thirty, 139 140 Moral Culture as a Science. children; twenty should be the largest number ever assigned to one teacher. If the value of a human life were appreciated, we should have no slums in our cities, in fact, we should probably not have cities as we have them now, swarming with men and women whose lives seem worse than wasted. Yet all these depraved human beings were once innocent children, with an innate love for the good, as well as a strong in- clination toward evil. They were bountifully endowed by nature for usefulness and the happiness that a noble life-work brings to all. Neither they themselves, nor society at large, realized that they were the possessors of a priceless thing: a human lifetime, with all its marvelous possibilities. "O, for another lifetime!" cried the aged scientist. This man had learned to value the possibilities of time. But it is not often that we find one who does. Many men and women are engaged in "killing time." They are "day- thieves," tage-diebe, as the Germans express it. Even in this scientific nineteenth century, lives are thrown away as one tosses a pebble into the water; in this case each pebble is an uncut diamond of priceless worth. With this keen appreciation of the possibilities of each life at heart, the teacher's own at- titude toward his work and toward each child will change. He will see to it, if it be possible, that the children's work shall be such as shall prepare them for life, physically, mentally, and morally. The kindergarten is designed to employ the irre- pressible play-spirit of the young child, and lead it so that it may be the means of a beautiful development. The true kindergarten trains the powers of observa- Reflections. 141 tion, concentration, and, above all, the imagination. When kindergarten conditions prevail in all our schools, as regards time of study, number of children assigned to each teacher, and materials furnished for work, the children will astonish this dull old world by their " marvelous" progress. The modern spirit of research in all departments of science is of comparatively recent date. We no longer try to fit our observations into preconceived ideas of truth, but we let nature speak for herself. "An experiment is a question put to nature," says an eminent physicist. "We call her answer a phe- nomenon." Students are every day putting their questions more intelligently to nature, and are receiv- ing answers ever more wonderful. Child-study is that department of science which gives human nature a chance to speak for itself. In many universities we find leaders in this new depart- ment of science. Thousands of teachers in active ser- vice in our schools are being helped by university ex- tension lectures and courses in educational reading to understand the children under their care. The teacher who is willing to study each child in a spirit of scientific humility, who realizes that the no- blest study of man is man, will come to know the wondrous possibilities, yet, at the same time, the great limitations, of childhood. Children do not know; they must be taught. Therefore, impatience toward them for not knowing more, or anger at their learning so slowly, is cruelty. The finest minds often comprehend with difficulty, and the most promising children are some- times awkward in attempting to apply the newly ac- quired knowledge. 142 Moral Culture as a Science. In our work with children, patience never ceases to be a virtue. " When your patience is worn threadbare, darn it," is the good advice of one who knew. Patience must, however, never be confounded with weakness. Firm demands upon the child's best efforts should al- ways be made, and they will be all the more cheerfully fulfilled if they are made in the spirit of kindness. When the teacher has learned to assume the student attitude toward all children, he will find it much less difficult to control the impatient gesture or facial ex- pression, the high-pitched voice or angry tone. We teach as much by what we are as by what we do. Even if teaching may not be the ideal life-work of which we have dreamed, if the machinery of systems and the sordid question of position and remuneration have somewhat dampened our enthusiasm, we can yet, if we will, make it the means of the noblest inner growth to ourselves, and a life-work which will not die with us. Patience, perseverance, consistency in our demands from day to day, sympathy, consideration, cheerful- ness, industry, and a constant effort to see the motives of others, to see ourselves and all things as others see them, these are some of the qualities developed in a good teacher. By studying others we can know ourselves. By studying ourselves we know others. Even the teacher in the humblest country school may, if he will, be a scientist in the best sense of the word, a student of men and a builder of character. We have often heard that the teacher makes the school. This is true in a great measure, but a few Reflections. 143 words on the other side of the question are pertinent in this connection. On the all-important first day, for instance, the teacher is confronted by a wriggling mass of American juvenility, ranging in number from thirty to sixty. It has been said that there is "enthusiasm in numbers "; that good work can be done under any and all condi- tions, etc. " Good work" is a relative term; and judging from the scathing criticisms which Dr. J. M. Rice and President Eliot of Harvard have made upon the schools of the United States, the work with large numbers has been anything but satisfactory. Class-work can never be ideal work; a " study group" should be the nearest approach to it; with large num- bers, only class- work can be done; the demands of the individual must be subordinated to the general needs of the many. All this cannot be helped, we are told; there is no country in which the masses are as well educated as in ours; that it is unjust to our taxpayers to spend more money on our schools, etc. A prominent authority says that the average city spends about as much for the education of her children as she does for soda-water and ice-cream! And this is spent by men who do not always apply rational business methods to school affairs. The waste of funds in many cases would not be tolerated an instant by a business man in a private enterprise. However discouraging educational conditions may be, we should remember that we are living in a time of change, and with the adjustment of economic con- 144 Moral Culture as a Science. ditions, educational matters will improve. The anx- ious question will not much longer be, " What will it cost? " but " What do we want? " Americans, as a sovereign people, do not have to wait long, when once they know what they want. An educational " castle in Spain " as an approxi- mation of what we want might be of interest in this connection. Prom without our castle is a pleasant, unostentatious building, surrounded by large grounds. Within, we find the rooms light, airy, and homelike, with comfortable seats for perhaps twenty children. Out on the spacious grounds are the workshops, laboratories, gymnasium, and game-grounds, of various kinds. The children spend the vigorous morning hours in concentrated mental work. After the lunch, which is served hot in the school dining-room, where children learn the simple amenities of the table and the homely arts of cooking and serving, the siesta or playtime follows. Then the manual work begins; all children go to their respective places in workshop, laboratory, sewing-room, or gymnasium. Boys and girls receive the same instruction, and the desire of all instructors is to give each individual the best possible chance for development. However far from realization our estimate may be, we are as yet in the old conditions. A teacher may be ever so earnest and take the deepest interest in the children, yet the educational problems before him are discouraging. There is a churlish boy who is half asleep because he has been carrying papers since three o'clock in the Reflections. 145 morning; the pale little girl, who is learning to raise her eyebrows in premature anxiety, is preoccupied be- cause she is thinking of her mother away trying to get work, as her father has been " laid off "; the boy with his head tied up is suffering with an ulcerated tooth because there is no money to pay the dentist; here is a child habitually overfed and spoiled until it has be- come inordinately selfish and sluggish, these every- day problems of individual cases are constantly pre- senting themselves to the teacher. Yet as he looks into the many faces turned toward him, he feels inspired to do his best, whatever the conditions may be. If he can make the children feel that " our difficulties are our opportunities," he has done much. He knows that the little hearts love right-doing, or righteousness; that they turn to the good as the daisy turns to the sun; that the most gratefully remembered work will be that which he may do for them in helping them to live a true life. Long after the good cook of their childhood, the patient slave of the needle, or the best teacher of arithmetic and grammar, are forgotten, they will think of that man or woman who directed them to the unchanging moral and ethical truths of life. Food and clothing, arithmetic and grammar, then become merely the means to the end of noble living. APPENDIX. A FEW stories for children are added to further illus- trate a method of presenting moral truths. It will be noted that the moral is not a thing apart from the story. As in the " novel with a purpose," taken from life to illustrate moral truths for children of a larger growth, these simple illustrations from child-life are planned to serve the same purpose, in their way. Inspiring thoughts of great men may be used as themes for ethical lessons with older children. A few of these are presented for that purpose. 147 MARTIN'S THINKING. " MARTIN, will you remember to bring some straw- berries from Mr. Hall's, on your way home from school ? " said Mrs. Bell, one day, when her son was leaving for school. " Remember, now, I shall need them for shortcake. Aunt Anna is coming for dinner this even- ing, and she is so fond of shortcake, you know." " Yes, I '11 remember. I 'm fond of shortcake too," Martin said, laughing, as he started for school. But he played ball as he went along the street on his way home, and he did not think of the berries until his mother said, " Well, where are the berries? " " O, I forgot them! I'll go back and get them as quickly as I can! " and Martin was off again. " Mamma, I had to have my brains in my feet, again, that time," said Martin, running up with the berries. "I ran all the way! Is it too late for the shortcake? " " I think not, if you will help me pick them over, " said his mother. Martin put his mother's kitchen apron around his neck, rolled up his sleeves, and after washing his hands, he went to work picking over the berries. His mother took a handful of berries from the dish. " We will lay these aside to eat when we are through," she said; " but we must not touch a single one now." " Did you ever know that your mind can do different kinds of thinking? " asked Mrs. Bell presently. " You 149 150 Appendix. can do two kinds of thinking very well, but there is one kind of thinking which you do not do well at all." "What kind is that?" asked Martin. " It's the kind of thinking which you did not do on your way home from school," said she. " O, remembering! " said Martin. "Yes, we might call it remember-thinking. You have a very poor memory. I want you to do your best, Martin, to train yourself in this kind of thinking, because terrible things may happen when people forget. " When I was a little girl, I knew a big boy, George Warner, who worked in the roundhouse where the engines were kept. When an engine went in to be cleaned, all the water which was left in the boiler was emptied into a pit. " It was George's work to open and close these pits. One day a boiler full of hot water had been emptied and there was a great deal of steam. George was speaking with another boy, and forgot to close the pit. " The foreman, in making his rounds, went through the steam, and fell into the pit of boiling water. You know what happened, Martin. He died that night, and George has been a most unhappy man. He never could forget that he had caused his old friend's death. " You forgot the berries, but you brought them in time, and we laughed about it, because it did not matter much; but it may matter very much some time, when you are trusted to do real work in the world. Now is the time to train your memory to do its part of your brain-work." Martin was very sober. After a pause he said, " Mamma, what kinds of thinking can I do better? " Martin's Thinking. 151 " Before I answer that question, tell me what you had in your arithmetic class to-day." "0, we had a fine example! I got it without help. A tank holds forty gallons of water, and one pipe runs in water at the rate of twelve gallons a minute, an- other runs it out at the rate of eight gallons a minute, how long before the tank is full? " " How did you do it ? " asked his mother. " You see, I thought how much more goes into the tank than out; that must fill the tank: it is four gal- lons every minute. Then it will take as many minutes to fill the tank as four is contained times in forty, which is ten times. " Mary Hall and I were the only ones in the class who thought it out alone. Then the teacher told us to think out an example which would empty the tank. Of course, if the tank is full, and eight gallons run in and twelve run out every minute, the tank will be empty in ten minutes." Martin liked arithmetic better than any other study, and always told his mother the new examples. " Now I can answer your question about the other kind of thinking, " she said, smiling. " You say, ' If this fills the tank, then that must empty it '; or you might say, ' If four times five are twenty, than five times four must be twenty'; that is called working- thinking or reasoning. You reason very well, but you must do all kinds of thinking well if you want to have a good mind." " What is another kind of thinking? " asked Martin. " We will speak about that some other time, my boy. Now you may go and see that the dining-room is 152 Appendix. aired and the table is set. It is a comfort to have you to help me. Here are your berries." Martin took the berries and put the largest one into his mother's mouth. Then he went to work in the dining-room. Martin knew just how his mother liked to have the table set, and he took care to forget nothing. When he had finished, his mother came in. " Why, Martin, the table is beautiful," she said. " You have used your memory well this time. I see nothing forgotten, even the roses are in the center of the table, where I like them. " I want to train my mind to do all kinds of think- ing, mamma," said Martin, laughing. One day Martin lay on the grass under the apple tree. He saw the white clouds passing along the blue sky, and wondered how many leaves there were on the tree. After looking at them in a lazy way, he thought that the leaves changed their color and shape. In- stead of being green and pointed, they were large golden coins twenty dollars, every one of them! He sprang up, and climbed the tree to pick them. Then he found that if he merely shook the limbs, the money fell in showers on the ground. Soon the grass was covered with gold, and the tree was bare. Martin climbed down in such a hurry that he almost fell. Then he went to the wood-house and brought out some bags and the wheelbarrow, and picked up all the money. He lifted a bagful of gold upon the wheelbarrow and took it to the bank; there were six loads of it. Martin's Thinking. 153 The banker stared in wonder at the loads of gold. But Martin looked wise and said, " Never mind." Then he took a handful of the money and went to town to buy a bicycle. Next he mounted his wheel and fairly flew home and told his mother all about it. But he could not rest, he felt so rich and happy. Soon he was down in the harbor, where the ships and yachts were lying at anchor. Here he saw a large steam-yacht, just like Mr. Samson's, in which Martin had once had a ride. It did not take him long to buy the yacht, and as soon as he had paid for it, he ordered the captain to get ready to put to sea. She was a beautiful little vessel, and large enough to cross the ocean. He now hurried home, and on the way back he asked some of his chums to take a cruise around the world with him. Before he started on his long voyage he gave his mother and father thousands and thousands of dol- lars. Then he set out with his friends upon their jolly trip. The captain and the sailors could tell just such stories as boys like. It did not seem long before they arrived in China. Then they went to India, Africa, Rome, Paris, and London. The captain had been in London many times, so he acted as their guide. When Martin was enjoying the sights of that great city, he heard a voice that he knew very well. "Martin! Martin!" called his mother. "What are you doing out there?" Martin found himself looking at the green leaves of the tree again. 154 Appendix. He was sorry to come back from his cruise around the world, and felt a little cross. He had often taken trips before, but this had been such a very pleasant one. "What were you doing just now?" asked his mother again, as Martin came up. She sat on the cool back porch, shelling peas for dinner. "0, nothing," answered Martin. " Were you really doing nothing at all ? " " 0, I was looking at the leaves, and wondering how many there were," replied Martin. " What more were you thinking ? " His mother looked so smiling and sweet that Martin felt ashamed of his bad humor. Then he sat down beside her and helped her shell peas. While they were busy he told her the story of his cruise around the world. " Well, well, you let your mind run just like a colt in the pasture ! " she said, laughing, when he had finished. "Do you remember the different kinds of think- ing ? " she went on. " 0, yes, of course, " said Martin. " I ' ve been trying to remember ever since." " What you were doing just now was the other kind of thinking," said his mother. " It was picture-think- ing. Your mind made wonderful pictures for you." " You told me that I could do two kinds of think- ing well. One is the working-thinking and this is picture-thinking." "Yes, working-thinking is reasoning. Picture- thinking is imagining. The part of the brain which does this kind of thinking is called the imagination. Martin's Thinking. 155 " You are doing very well in your remembering too. I hope, Martin, that you will soon be strong in all your thinking." Martin helped his mother about the dinner as usual. When they were at the table, she told him to tell his father about his trip around the world. His father laughed, as his mother had done when she had heard it. " Yes; Martin has a good picture-maker in his head," he said; " and I believe he has sense enough not to let this little fellow do too much of his brain- work. If you did, you would soon be a day-dreamer. " Our reason should always do the greater part of our brain-work. The memory, too, should be trained to do its part well. It would not do for me, in my business, to forget; the memory must do its part, for only by remembering the lessons which we learn, can we become better and wiser. " But the imagination is good in its place; it helps the other two. When you read a good story, pictures arise before you. When you study about other coun- tries and peoples, you seem to see them. " In this way the imagination is a great help to us, and a person who has a poor imagination, and does not see these mind-pictures, loses much pleasure. " But we must be very careful to keep it in our power. Some people let their imagination run wild, and it unfits them for any good work." " I am glad that I know about it," said Martin; " now I will watch myself." COBWEBS. PART I. IT was a pleasant summer morning, and Mary had gone all over the garden again and again, and had at last lain down beside the bluebells under the apple tree. " Mary, Mary," called her mother; "come in and help me." It was not a very loud call, and Mary said to her- self, " Mamma does not know that I heard her, so I will stay here, for it is nicer here than in the house, dusting and washing dishes." Just then she heard a little tinkle from a bluebell near-by, and a beautiful fairy stood before her, and said, " I am your fairy godmother, Mary, and I have come to give you a present. Here is a pair of spec- tacles; they are so fine that they cannot be seen when you wear them, but they will show you wonderful things." Mary was not at all afraid of her fairy godmother, for she had always hoped some day to see her. " O, thank you," said she; " what shall I see through them? Will they show me the gold and diamonds in the ground, that Aladdin saw? " "You will see when you wear them; but before I put them on, you must promise not to take them off. When it is time, I will take them off myself. Do you promise? " " Yes, yes, I promise," said Mary, and she held her head very still while the fairy put on the glasses. 156 Cobwebs. 157 But what was the matter? Mary looked at herself in fear and disgust, for she was covered all over with strings and cords of cobweb; some were large and strong, while others were fine and silky. The largest and oldest were thick and strong, and held her bound very tight. " O, what is the matter with me?" cried Mary, in alarm; " I am all covered and tied up with these dirty cobwebs! How did they get on me? Where did they come from? " " The cobwebs that you see, Mary, are there all the time," said the fairy. " You have not seen them be- fore, but we fairies always see them." " But what are they? How did they get on me? " cried Mary again. " All these cobwebs are habits, Mary. This large dusty cord is one that has been there a long time, grow- ing thicker every day. It is your worst habit. " For years you have let it grow, because you did not know it was there. It is your habit of not coming when you are called. This habit began when you were only two years old. I saw it the first day, when it was fine and silky. I could not come to you then, because you were not old enough to understand. Now you are eight years old, and it was time that you should see how you really look." " What is this big cobweb? " said Mary, crying, and pulling at one near her neck. " That is this habit of telling lies. Just now, when you heard your mother call, you made up your mind to let her think that you had not heard her. When you make any one think what is not true, you lie. You 158 Appendix. See, the lie you thought made this cobweb grow thicker and stronger. " Then you thought if your mother should say, ' Mary, I called you a long time ago; did you not hear me? ' you meant to answer, l 0, did you call me? I was so far away, that I did not hear you.' And the thought of that lie also added a thread to this ugly cord." Mary was a sorry-looking little girl when she asked, " Please, tell me what this is." It was a large cord that went right across her mouth. "That is the habit of ' talking back' to your mother and father. You do this most to your mother. She loves you and wants to make a good girl of you; yet when you do wrong, and she tells you of it, you are very saucy, and even say to yourself, i I know better than mamma does.' ' : " 0, what shall I do? " cried Mary, pulling at the cords. "What shall I do? Can I never get them off ? " " It is not so bad as that," said the fairy, with a cheerful tinkle in her voice. " Now that you know about them, if you really want to break these cords, you can." " 0, tell me how ! Show me how ! " cried Mary. " I will help you, if you want me to, by showing you how to get rid of them, but you will have to do the work yourself," said the fairy. "Yes, yes; show me how to get them off now ! I don't want all these nasty things holding me so tight!" cried Mary, in disgust. " Mary, these great cords have been growing there for years. You cannot tear them at once," said the Cobwebs. 159 fairy. " To tear the large cords through, you must tear the little threads that make them up, one by one. But you must think of these smaller ones too, or they will become just as strong as the larger ones." " This fine 'one, between the thumb and first finger, is a habit which just lately began. You see it has not many threads yet. It is the habit of taking sugar from the sugar-bowl, or cake from the cake-box, or anything else that you may see." " 0, show me how to tear it now, please," said Mary. " You cannot break a single thread until the next time that you have a chance to take something. If you take it then, a thread will be added to these; if you do not, it will tear a thread away. " You see, every wrong action weaves a single thread; but actions done over and over again become habits; and habits grow stronger and stronger. Habits begin as threads of cobweb, and end as iron chains." The fairy now showed Mary another large cobweb. " This is your temper," she said. " And it is large and strong. Remember, in breaking the other cob- webs, not to get angry if it takes a long time. Every time that you get angry, you add a thread to this cord." " I will be careful," said Mary, with tears in her eyes. " Please help me." " If you want to get rid of these cords, you must use every chance that you see, to break the threads. Here is one of which you can break a thread now." "Which one is that? What must I do?" cried Mary. 160 Appendix. "It is this habit of not coming when you are called; your mother called you just now. Go in and help her as she wants you to." " And must I leave you? " said Mary. " If you do not leave me, you will add another thread to the cord, instead of breaking one," said the fairy. " Then I will go," said Mary slowly. " That is right," said the fairy, " and come back to the bluebells this afternoon, when your work is done," and with a little tinkle the fairy was gone. PART II. When Mary reached the bluebells in the afternoon, she expected to find the fairy there. She was very happy, for she saw that the web between her thumb and forefinger had lost several threads, as had also the one across her mouth, and she wanted to tell the fairy about it. But no fairy was to be seen. She wandered about for a while, looking for her, and at last sat down to wait; but the longer she waited, the more impatient she became. The words of the fairy had been an in- vitation. Mary thought it meant a promise to meet her; then why did she not keep her promise? She was getting very angry, and thought of going away. Then she remembered what the fairy had said about her temper, and she looked for that web. Yes, sure enough, a fine new thread was forming on it. "O, I must not get angry; I must be patient," she said to herself. So she lay down under the apple tree in the grass, to wait quietly until the fairy should Cobwebs. 161 come. " And if she does not come," she thought, " it will be because she thinks it best, and I will be care- ful not to be cross about it." At first her ears were open to every little sound, listening for the fairy-bell. But presently she began to think about her work that morning, how pleased her mother had been, and how much pleasure it had given herself, and she made up her mind to go in before her mother called her, to help about the sup- per. She had quite forgotten the fairy when she was aroused by the silvery tinkle of her bell, and the fairy stood before her. "You have done well, very well, Mary," said the fairy. " Now I will both help and reward you by taking you on a fairy trip with me, to show you some things we fairies see." She put a cap on Mary's head. " Now no one can see you, or hear you speak," she said. Then she touched Mary's feet with her wand, and the two floated away through the air. It was delightful for Mary to float high above flowers and trees, and yet to feel as safe as on the ground. " Here is a pair of glasses belonging to the fairy godmother of old Jack Hooker," said the fairy. " You know that every one, even an old drunkard like Jack, has a fairy godmother; and she loves him just as much as I love you." " Then why did she not let Jack wear the glasses?" asked Mary. " She did," was the sad reply; "but when he saw the cobwebs about him he said, " O, these are only a few cobwebs; I can brush them off when I want to." But 162 Appendix. they grew stronger and stronger, and now you shall see how an old drunkard like Jack looks to us." She put Jack's glasses on Mary, right over her own. Mary could now see all of Jack's habits. The poor old man was pruning trees in Banker Dollard's orchard. Great iron chains bound him and made every movement hard and painful. Mary could even see his thoughts while he was working. " When I am through with this, I shall get a dollar and a half," he was thinking; " then I will get my jug filled, and drink, drink, drink! " Mary could see one of the chains grow shorter and thicker as he thought this, until it nearly choked him, and he almost screamed with thirst. " O, can nobody help him? " cried Mary, the tears rolling down her cheeks. " He can never be helped," said the fairy, " until he sees the chains which bind him, and really wants to break them. His fairy godmother is a friend of mine. She is often sad about him. I am glad that you want to help him. Perhaps some time you may." " Now we will see Banker Dollard," she went on; " and his fairy has also given me his glasses, so that you may see what his habits are." They entered the private room of the bank where Mr. Dollard sat at his desk. His fingers, hands, arms, and even his brain and heart, were loaded down with great iron chains. " You see he is worse than poor, weak Jack," said the fairy. " He is seventy years old, and for fifty years he has thought of nothing but money, money, money. His mother and father lost their son when he began Cobwebs. 163 to love money. He did not help them, and they died poor. His wife was most unhappy, for her husband loved only money; even for his only son he had no smiles. The poor boy has lived a sad life in the grand house which he called home, because there was no love to warm it." A poorly dressed man, with a worried, tired face, entered the room where the banker sat at his desk. " O, Mr. Dollard," he said, trembling, " they are go- ing to take my farm away from me to-day unless I pay them! Please lend me five hundred dollars. It is so little to you, and it will save my dear old home." Mary could see the chain around the banker's heart draw closer around it, until the heart was as hard as stone; when she looked into his face she saw that he was very pale, almost blue he seemed to her. " Well, how do you expect to pay me back? " he asked with a cold smile. " I will pay you as soon as my crops are harvested. I have good crops in the field; they will more than pay it back." "We cannot trust to crops," was the unkind an- swer; " a year ago you gave a thousand dollars to save a neighbor's home. He has not paid you; now you will lose your own home. You were very unwise. ' Every man for himself,' is my motto. " With this the banker turned to his work again. As the farmer was about to leave the room, another man entered. " Why, how do you do, Mr. Goodman? " he said, taking the farmer's hand. " It is a long time since I have seen you ! " " Yes, Mr. Moore, I have been very hard at work. 164 Appendix. I have not had time to see my friends. But now they are going to take my farm, after all my hard work." " Why, what is the matter? " asked Mr. Moore. So the farmer told him all about his trouble. Mr. Moore turned to the banker. " How is this? Cannot you help him? " he asked. " He has nothing but his crops to pay his debts; they may fail, and I can take no risks." " Very well, then I will take the risk and give him what he needs," said Mr. Moore. Mary and the fairy now left the banker's room, and the fairy said, " Mr. Moore and Mr. Goodman are very good men, each in his own way. When they were young, long before the habits of their lives were hard as iron, their fairy godmothers gave them their glasses, and when they saw their danger, as you did yours, they went to work, slowly and carefully, to break the cords which were beginning to bind them. Mr. Moore is a rich man who helps others as much as he can. Mr. Goodman is not rich, but he, too, does what he can. So each has kept himself free from the chains which bind so many people, and keep them from doing good in the world." " I like them both," said Mary, " and I want to learn to be kind and helpful, as they are." " Yes, and remember that every great thing begins as a small thing. The oak is large and strong and gives shade to many, but it was once an acorn. If children begin in their homes to be kind and true and faithful, they will be ready for greater work when they are men . and women," said the fairy. " Now we will go to see Mrs. Woods." So the two floated away. Cobwebs. 165 Mrs. Woods was one of the richest women in the town. When Mary looked at her through the glasses, she saw great chains on her too. " You see the largest chain is her habit of telling false stories ahout other people," said the fairy. " Sometimes there is a little truth in them, and sometimes there is no truth at all. If she wished, she might break her chains, thread by thread; but, like Jack and the banker, she does not want to do this." " There is still another woman whom I want you to see, for you always want so much to be beautiful. Now you shall see what a beauty may come to, unless she is very careful. It is harder for a beautiful girl or woman to keep off the cobwebs than for others." When they entered the house where Mrs. Pratt lived, they found her before a mirror, trying on a beautiful gown she intended to wear that evening. Her children sat around, sad and quiet; they did not dare to disturb their mother. If Mary had seen her without her glasses, she would have thought that such a lovely woman must be good too; but the glasses told a sad story of selfish- ness and vanity. She was thinking only of herself, and was nodding and smiling at her image in the glass. Mary could see her think, " I shall be the most beautiful woman at the ball; every one will come to dance with me." To Mary she looked awful as she smiled under the dirty cobwebs that covered her face, and hung in chains around her. " O, if she could only see herself as she is," she sighed, " all her pride would be gone, and she would try to break these chains. Her poor children, how unhappy they must be!" 166 Appendix. "She has worn her glasses, you may be sure; but she did not want to see these chains. She wanted to have pleasure, and thought that the duties at home were dull. To-night she will leave her tired husband at home to care for the children, while she will go to the ball with a friend." They left the vain woman still nodding and smiling at her image in the mirror. Mary left with a heavy heart. She was so sorry for the little children! As she passed the clock, she saw that it was almost time to go home and help her mother with the supper. " Now, please, dear godmother, it is almost time for me to be at home to help mother. If Mrs. Pratt for- gets her children, it makes me think that it is just as bad to forget my mother. I will try never to neglect any one again." "I hoped you would say what you did, Mary," said the fairy. "You will soon be free, I am sure. You are in earnest abou^ getting these cords off! "I am glad that you want to do all you can for your mother too. She is beautiful to fairies! She may look wrinkled and tired to others, but we see her as she is, and she is lovely!" " 0, I know; she is the best and dearest mother in the world, and I am going to try to make her happy I " cried Mary. "You are safe, Mary, and I am very happy. Re- member to be careful not to lose your temper while you work to make yourself free. I will come to see you again," said the fairy; "but for this time I must say good by!" Mary heard the fairy tinkle, and found herself in the grass near the bluebells again. Cobwebs. 167 She ran into the house and went to work. Slowly and carefully she began to tear the heavy cords. She did right, where she had done wrong before; she was cheerful, where she had pouted. Her mother was surprised at the change in her little daughter. Mary was so willing and cheerful about her work, she seemed to be trying to forget herself and think only of others. Soon the sadness in the mother's face was almost gone, because her heart kept singing, " I have a dear little child! Her life is a blessing to me, and will be a blessing to all who come near her." And the fairy found a happy, free little girl when she came to see Mary, a year later, when the bluebells were in blossom again. THE MINER'S SON. FAR under the ground was the home of little Hans. He had always lived there, because his father had been a miner, and his mother had lived in the mine too. Many people lived down in this beautiful salt mine; for years and years they never saw the sunlight, be- cause it took a long time to go up, and they were poor. The children of the miners played together under the large lamps that were kept burning night and day. The walls and pillars that held up the earth above them were made of shining rock-salt, which shone like diamonds in the light. Little Hans was very lonely sometimes. His mother had died when he was only thrco years old, and his father was killed in the mine a year later; the miners all liked Hans and let him grow up with their children, but sometimes the poor boy longed to have some one who cared for him. Hans had a little box in which he kept his things. Among these was a Noah's-ark, with houses, and trees, and cows, and sheep, and men and women. His father had given it to Hans not long before he died. Hans had played with these wonderful wooden trees and animals for years. He had wondered what the world above looked like, and he wished so much to see it. One day, when Hans was ten years old, the priest 168 The Miner's Son. 169 came down into the mine. He spoke kindly to all the hard-working miners and their wives, and brought a little cross and beads to all the children. Then he stayed to teach them. Hans was a bright boy, and the priest liked him very much. " Who is your father, my boy?" he said, kindly, to Hans one day, when the lesson was over; " I want to speak with him about you." Poor little Hans had a lonesome heart, and tears came into his eyes as he told his story to the priest. " Is there not some uncle or aunt who would care for you and send you to school? " asked the priest kindly. " I don't know," Hans replied; " ask Mother Minta; maybe she knows. She saw my father die." Mother Minta knew nothing about the family, but gave the priest some letters which had been left by Hans's parents. The priest took the letters and promised Hans that he would try to find out something about his people. He kissed the little boy on his white forehead when he left to go up to the great busy world above. When Father Stephen, the kind priest, returned after three days, he told Hans that he had found his grandmother, who was very glad to hear that her little grandson was living, and wished to see him very much. He told Hans to be ready to go up with him the next day. Hans was wild with delight, but the priest told him to say nothing to the other children about it, because it would make them unhappy. It is the great wish of these little children to see the sunlight 170 Appendix. and the blue sky and the green fields, of which they have heard so much, and Father Stephen was sorry that he could not take them all. The next day Hans said " good by" to all the people, very quietly, while the priest stood near, wait- ing for him; only his shining eyes told how happy he was. The good people were sorry to lose Hans, and they told the priest what a good boy he was. Some of his playmates were very sorry, and it made Hans feel sad, too, when he said " good by " to them. Up, up, up they went, through the shaft. At last a queer light was seen, and the car stopped. The priest helped Hans out. Now, in the daylight, he noticed how very white the little boy was. " Where is the sun?" asked Hans, when they reached the top of the long shaft. The priest led him out of the station-house, and said, " This is a cloudy day, my boy, and the sun cannot be seen, but all the light which you see is from the sun. It is well for you that the sun is not shining, for your eyes might be harmed by the bright light." The priest knew that he would have many questions to answer. Hans looked with wondering eyes at the sky, with the clouds rolling by, and the broad green earth, with the blue mountains in the distance. For a time his heart was too full to speak. All his life he had dreamed of seeing the earth, and now he was so surprised to find everything so different from what he thought it would be. " Is it as beautiful as you thought it would be?" asked Father Stephen, at last. The Miner's Son. 171 " It is so wide; I did not think it would be so," re- plied Hans. "All the people must be very happy who live in this wide earth. I feel the wind; every- thing moves. 0, I think it is so good of you to bring me!" " What is that? " he asked, pointing to a large tree. " That is a tree," was the reply. " But it moves and swings. Will it fall? " "No; it has great roots, which hold it in the ground; then the trunk holds it up and the wind moves the limbs." " What is that moving up in the sky? " he asked next. " Those are clouds. The wind moves them." " Nobody ever told me about the clouds!" mused Hans, as he followed them with his eyes. " And the cloth on the ground, what is that for? " he went on, pointing to the grass. " We will look at it," said the priest. He kneeled down, and pulled some to show Hans how it grew in the ground. " This is grass," he said; " it covers the earth and makes it bright and beautiful. Many animals eat it. God makes everything beautiful; even every little blade of grass is beautiful." " O, I am glad to see it. I feel the wind all the time, and I can breathe better! " They walked down through the village to the tavern. All the people who saw them knew that the priest was taking a little boy from the mines for the first time in his life, and they looked at Hans kindly, and smiled. Hans never forgot the kind smiles, and he did not wonder that the people could be happy up here in the lovely world. 172 Appendix. " That is a cow: it has horns. 0, how big it is! Don't they sometimes eat people? " said Hans. " No; cows eat only plants. They like grass; you may see her eat this." He gave the cow a handful of grass, and Hans watched her eat. " You see, they give us milk, and butter, and cheese; they are very good and gentle animals when we treat them kindly." " 0, what is that?" cried Hans, holding the priest's hand very closely. " That will not hurt you; it is a horse and wagon. See, the man drives the horse; he can make it go wherever he likes." Hans now laughed at his own fright. They came to the tavern. The rooms were large, and rather dark and smoky. " Are all the houses up here like this one? " he asked. " No; this is an old tavern," was the reply. " We have many kinds of houses. The most beautiful are the houses that we build for God. I will let you see a church, but we must eat now, or we shall lose our train." Father Stephen now told the maid to bring them some lunch. Hans thought he had never tasted any- thing as good as the meat and bread and milk which were set before them. When they had finished their meal, they went out and the priest said that now Hans should see a church. Hans went in and prayed in the beautiful little church, for the first time in his life. Then they hurried on to the station. They waited for the train on the platform. Hans asked many questions about everything he saw. The Miner's Son. 173 Suddenly they heard a loud shriek and a roar. Hans looked in fear, and saw a great monster coming toward them. It had only one great angry eye, and Hans was so afraid that he could hardly breathe. He wanted to run away, but he could not move; only his heart beat faster and faster. Father Stephen looked at him, and said, smiling, " Do not be afraid, my boy; I will not let anything hurt you. This is the train which will carry us to your grandmother's house. See, it is made of iron," he said, leading the trembling boy to the puffing, steaming monster. " The men inside can make it stop or run, just as they like." " Now we must get into one of the cars," said Father Stephen. " You are not afraid now, are you?" Hans blushed at his fear, and said, " No I will try never to be afraid again." Soon they were flying through the beautiful country, and Hans could hardly speak, because he was so happy to see the earth. In the afternoon he said, "Light, light, why, Father, there is light all over everything! It is just like gold in the air; it must be the sun! " " Yes, you are right; it is the sun coming out," said the Father. "You must not look at the sun yet. Later, when it is going down, you may see it. Your eyes might become weak if you look at the light much yet." Hans drank in the beauty of the sky and the earth, with the sunshine over all. It was like fairyland to him. " Now, when the train stops again, we will get off," said Father Stephen. Hans felt his heart beat fast 174 Appendix* at the thought of seeing his own people, who loved him because they had loved his mother. When they got off the train and went around the station-house, they went to see the sunset. In all his dreams of beauty Hans had never thought of such beauty as this. The sky was gold and pink and white, with little golden islands floating near the sun. Hans folded his hands as if he were praying; as long as he lived he remembered this first sunset. " That is the sun as we see it almost every day at this time," said the Father. "We do not see the beauty, because we are so used to it; but we should look at it every day. Some day, when you have seen the sun go down many, many times, you will hardly look at it, I am afraid." "No; I shall look at it always," said Hans. "O Father, it is like heaven." Now they got into a carriage and drove through fields and woods, past pleasant farmhouses and beautiful streams of water. Hans learned of new things on every side, but he could not take his eyes off the sunset; when he had watched the last rays lost in the darkness, he turned to Father Stephen again. "What is that, and that, and that?" he cried, point- ing to the sky. " Can you guess what they are?" asked the Father. " They must be the stars, but how small they are! I thought they would be much larger." " Many of those tiny stars are great suns, just like our sun; but they are so far away, that we see them as stars." "There is the moon." Hans said this as if the moon were an old friend of his. " See how it moves!" The Miner's Son. 175 " Yes; that is the moon. You are taking your first moonlight ride." Slowly and softly the moon rose higher and higher. Hans could say nothing. He was looking at the river and the woods and the fields, with the moonlight over all. At last they stopped before a vine-covered cottage in the village. A door opened, and a flash of light streamed out. Then Father Stephen led the pale boy into the home of his grandmother. Little Hans was in loving arms. He was happy to feel that now he had some one who cared for him, as the other children had. There was a dainty feast spread in honor of the little son who was found. Father Stephen stayed and was happy with them. When he went away, Hans held his hand and kissed it. The Father stroked his head and said, " Hans and I are good friends. Good by, my son; I will come to see you again!" The beauty which this poor little miner's son loved so much never grew old to him. Every day he studied the beauty of the earth around him. Years passed; he was very happy going to school and helping his grandmother at home. Father Ste- phen kept his word, and afterwards he sent Hans to a school, where he became a great painter. Thousands of people stood before his pictures of the sunsets and wondered at the beauty of the earth. But Hans thought, " Why do they not open their eyes and see the beauty for themselves! It is before them in the sky and the woods and the sea all the time. I can not paint it as beautiful as God has made it!" "DOCTOR CHARLES." ONE day Mrs. Blake was sewing a waist for her little boy, Dexter. He was so very small and thin for his age, that everybody called him Dot. Mrs. Blake had been ill for a long time, and stran- gers had sewed for the children, while his older brother, Charles, had taken care of Dot. When Mrs. Blake fitted the waist, she noticed that one side of his back was different from the other. She looked at the thin little body more closely, and saw, for the first time, that the backbone, or spine, was very much curved. This frightened her, for she knew that if it were not cured, he would be a cripple by the time he grew up. Going to the door, she blew the horn, which always brought Charles home. He was playing baseball with some schoolmates, not far away. In a few minutes Charles appeared; he was a strong, healthy boy, with kind, laughing eyes, and a very red face from running. " Charles, come in and look at Dot's back! " said his mother. Charles came up to see. " Did you ever see this curve in his back? Charles, if it can't be cured he will be a cripple for life! Run for the doctor; we must not put it off another hour! " Charles had taken care of his little brother ever 176 "Doctor Charles." 177 since Dot was a baby, and the thought that he might be a cripple for life made him run faster and faster. When the doctor had carefully looked his patient over, he said, as he shook his head, "It is bad; but the boy is young, and there is hope that he may yet be cured." " What he needs is, not medicine, but rubbing, fresh i air, and good food. Every day, for two hours, he must be rubbed with a liniment which I shall leave." Charles had remained in the room to hear what the doctor would say. He knew that he was the only one who could do the rubbing. His mother was not strong, and his father was away on business most of the time. " Doctor, how do you want him rubbed?" he asked. " I want you to show me how, because mother is not strong enough, and father is not at home much." " Very well," said the doctor; " but do you think you will feel like doing it two hours every day? It may be months before he is well. I think your father had better hire some one to do it; because there is nothing else that will cure him." Charles knew that his father could not well afford to pay any one else, so he said, " I can do it, doctor, I know! See my arms; I've got fine muscle!" and Charles rolled up his sleeve to prove what he said. There was something in the boy's face that made the doctor trust him. " Very well, I will show you how to do it, Charles," he said. " Roll up your sleeves and go to work." Then he showed Charles just how to rub the soft muscles to make them stronger. " You see, he has been in bed so much," the doctor explained, u that all 178 Appendix. the muscles of the back are not strong enough to hold up the spine, and that makes it curve." Charles learned how to do it very quickly, and as his strong brown hands moved over the white skin so firmly, yet tenderly, the doctor said, " You are going to do very well, Charles, unless you tire of it; but, remember, you are giving him the only thing he needs to get well." Day by day and month by month, Charles gave Dot " his medicine," as he called it, once before Dot was up in the morning, and again when he was in bed for the night. The doctor told Charles just what outdoor exercise he wanted Dot to have. " Teach him to run and jump and play ball," he said. " Of course you must never let him get very tired." " Charles is so careful with Dot, doctor," said their mother, " I know you can trust him! " When Mr. Blake came home, and heard about Dot's trouble, he was as much frightened as his wife had been. He often watched Charles as he did the rub- bing, and offered to do it whenever he was at home; but Charles would not agree to this. His father was glad to see him so faithful, and called him " Doctor Charles." As time went on, the doctor looked more and more pleased when he came to look at his patient. Almost a year after his first visit, he smiled and said to Charles, "You have just about cured him; and I must say that I have never seen it done better and more faithfully in the best hospitals." But he told Charles to keep up the rubbing two or three times a week for some time yet. " Doctor Charles." 179 The two brothers had always been fond of each other; but now Dot seemed to feel how much his great big brother had done for him, and he clung to him very tenderly; while Charles felt that there could not be a dearer little fellow in the world than Dot. One would hardly have known Dot a year later. He was strong and brown, and captain of a baseball team! Yes, it seems queer, but it was true. They were called the " Baby Nine of Cedar Flats." When Charles sat down to breakfast on the morn- ing of his fourteenth birthday, he found a beautiful silver watch near his plate. It was an open-faced watch, and on the back was a baseball and bat, and around in a circle these words, " To my dear brother Charles, from Dot." CONSIDERATION. WHEN we do some one else a favor, we are kind to him; but when we do this kindness in such a way as not to hurt his feelings, then we show consideration. Some people are very kind at heart, but when they try to help others, they are thoughtless and often hurt their feelings. Sarah Newman was the daughter of a very rich man. She had a beautiful home and everything which wealth could give her; but she was so kind-hearted that everybody liked her. Her best friend was Lily Morton, who lived in a tiny house near Sarah's home. Lily's mother was a widow with a large family of children. She found it very hard to give them every- thing they needed. Mrs. Newman and her daughter Sarah helped the family in every way they could, by giving them food and clothing. It seemed to Sarah that she had no right to eat her good food, unless she knew that Lily had something good too. So Lily brought a basket with well-cooked food from their kind neighbors very often, and this was a welcome help to her tired mother. One day Alice Hart came to see Sarah, when Lily and she were playing in the garden. They played for an hour very, merrily, but when the clock struck five, Lily said, " I must go home now. Good by, girls." 180 Consideration. 181 "Wait a moment," cried Sarah; " we have saved up a lot of things for you." Lily took the basket and the bundle of clothes, and thanked her friend for them. When she had gone, Alice said, "0, does Lily take things from you? I did n't know she was so poor. She is the smartest girl in our class, and I never thought she was poor." Sarah was sorry that Alice knew of the matter, for she felt that she might speak of it to the girls in school. She tried to make Alice promise not to speak of it, but next day all the girls in school knew that Lily took food and clothing from Sarah's mother. Lily was taunted again and again by the thought- less girls. She was glad when school was out, and she ran home to her mother, who found it very hard to com- fort her. " What shall I do about it, mamma? " asked Sarah with tears in her eyes, when she had told her mother all about it. " I was afraid that Alice might speak of it. You should not have given Lily those things while Alice was there. We might have carried them over, later. You see, my dear, you meant to be kind to Lily, but you did not think that it would be so much pleasanter for her not to have any one know of it." " We will go over and see Mrs. Morton and Lily," said Mrs. Newman, " and do what we can to let them feel that we are their friends." When Mrs. Newman and Sarah entered the little cottage where Lily lived, she came to meet them smil- ing, but her eyes were still red. 182 Appendix. Mrs. Newman and Sarah were so kind, and so sorry for what had happened, that the two girls parted better friends than ever. Sarah never forgot to think of the feelings of others. When she was a woman, she helped many thou- sands of poor people, but she never forgot that to help others is to be kind to them; but to help them so that it will not hurt their feelings is to be considerate. KINDNESS. WHY do we all like to meet kind people? John Rogers is a boy whose face is freckled and whose clothes are poor; but he smiles and says " Good evening" so pleasantly when he meets you on the street, that you feel better for having seen him. Rose Wilcox is the daughter of the rich banker who lives in the great house on the corner; but she is so truly kind to every one, no matter if they are rich or poor, that everybody likes her. But here is Ralph Stone; his cross, selfish face makes us feel that we had rather not meet him. One day his teacher spoke to Ralph about kindness. " What is the use of being kind? " said Ralph. " If I lend a boy a pencil, he may lose it, or at least he will use the point, so that I shall have to sharpen it. If I don't give him my pencil, I have less trouble. " If I give some of my apples away, I have less for myself. I don't see any use in being kind. I don't borrow or take anything from the other children, so why should I give mine away? " " You didn't even help George Smith with his lesson at recess when he asked you," said his teacher. " He is a new boy, and does not know you. No one who knows you would think of asking you for a kindness. It would have cost you nothing to have helped George." 183 184 Appendix. " Well, I got the lesson myself without any help, so I thought he could do the same " ; but Ralph looked a little ashamed of himself when he said this. " So you mean never to give or to receive kindness, do you? " said Miss Wilbur. " Yes, that is it; I don't see any use in it," Ralph answered. " What about the kindness you have already re- ceived? " she asked. " 0, that isn't so much! " said Ralph. " Is not the kindness of your mother and father much? " " O, well, they are my parents, and they have to do it," said Ralph. * ' What about your schoolmates ? " asked Miss Wilbur. " They are not kind to me," was the answer. " No; as a rule, they do not notice you very much. You are always so unkind, that they do not like you. But one or two of them have been very kind to you. Last winter, when you were lying on the ice with a badly sprained ankle, John and Walter Rogers carried you through the darkness until you were safe in the house of a friend. " If they had left you, think what might have hap- pened ! Even if they had gone for help, which would have been much easier for them, you might have died in the bitter cold before help came. " But these boys did the best thing for you, though it was hard for them. They carried you almost a mile. Have you ever done anything to repay that kindness? " " Well, father offered to pay them, but they would not take any money," said Ralph. Kindness. 185 " That was right; they may be poor, but they do not have kindness for sale/' said Miss Wilbur. " No, Ralph, we cannot do without kindness in the world. Think what life would be if people were not kind to each other! Even animals are kind to each other. " I once knew a canary-bird much more willing to help others than you are. This bird's name was Pete, and he belonged to my little sister Mary. "Pete was so tame that be was allowed to fly in and out as he pleased. He always came when Mary called him to go to sleep in the evening. But one evening Pete did not come. She went into the garden and called again. Pretty soon he came flying toward her, but he did not let her catch him as usual, but flew a short distance away. She followed him, but he flew on and on, to the farthest corner of the garden. There on the grass lay a bluebird with a broken wing. Pete knew that Mary would help him, and this was his way of showing her where the wounded bird was." "O, well, anything like that," said Ralph. "I . would not let a boy with a broken leg or a sprained ankle lie and freeze to death! " " But you would not care to help carry him; you would go to the next house and tell the people about it, and let them do the work. " But, Ralph, I am speaking to you about this be- cause I believe you never thought of being kind. Have you ever done a kindness to any one? " "I let Will Hunter have my knife," said Ralph. " Yes, but what did he give you for the use of it? " Ralph blushed and said nothing. "You made a sharp bargain with Will. He had to promise to make 186 Appendix. you two of his best willow whistles for the use of your knife one afternoon." "How do you know? Did Will tell?" asked Ralph, in surprise. " No, he told me nothing, but I heard it. Now, Ralph, the children are about to begin their noon play. Go out among them and try to see the kind- ness of which I speak. This evening I hope you will have some kind deed to tell me about." Ralph went out and looked on while the boys played. He watched to see if there was so much kind- ness as Miss Wilbur had claimed. The boys were playing a game with their tops. George Smith, the new boy, stood near, and looked as if he wished to play. Walter Rogers called to him, "Come on, George, have you got a top?" George shook his head. " You can spin mine." Then he saw Ralph take his top from his pocket; he looked as if he wished to offer it, yet did not know how. Walter turned to Ralph, "Do you want to play, Ralph?" he asked. " No, but George may use my top if he wants to," he said. But George did not care to take it, he had been so unkindly treated before. " Just take it, George," said Ralph, as if he really wished to lend it; "I'll watch you play." George took the top and proved to be a good player. Ralph enjoyed the game. He was surprised to see how kind they were about lending each other top- Kindness. 187 strings and tops. They did little kind acts all the time, yet they did not seem to think about it. Some other boys were playing horse, and a little fellow, who stood in the way of a prancing team, was pushed down and began to cry. John Rogers, who was cutting something from paper near-by, picked him up. He carefully brushed the dust from his clothes, but the little boy cried on. Then John took a paper cow which he had been cutting and gave it to the little boy. He laughed when he saw what it was, and ran away happy. That evening after school Miss Wilbur said to Ralph, " Did you see any kindness among the boys at noon? " Ralph told her what he had seen. "Have you learned anything about kindness?" she asked. "I guess it's a pretty good thing," said Ralph, blushing. " I think so too," said Miss Wilbur. " Your life will be much happier if you do all the kindness you can as you go along. Good night, Ralph." " Good night, Miss Wilbur," and Ralph smiled so pleasantly that he looked like another boy. FRANK'S LESSON. ONE summer Frank went to visit his uncle and aunt, who lived in a pleasant village not far from his home. They were glad to have him come, as they had no children of their own, and knew Frank to be a pleas- ant and helpful boy. One day his uncle came home with a pair of beauti- ful goats. " Frank," he said, " these goats will pull a cart. You might make a new box for that cart out in the workshop, and when I get a harness you will have a fine turnout." Frank was much pleased, and he went to the work- shop to see what he could do with the cart. His father was a carpenter; so Frank had learned to use tools very nicely. He went to work planing and sawing, but when he looked for nails to put his cart together, he found only heavy iron ones in his uncle's nail-box. " Frank," said his aunt, just then coming into the workshop, " will you go down to the store for me? I am very busy." Frank started on his errand at once. On his return, he passed a house which was being built near his uncle's home. As it was late, the workmen had gone home. Near the walk, Frank saw a slender steel nail, just such a one as he needed for his cart, and he picked it up. Then he noticed several nail-kegs under the 188 Frank's Lesson. 189 porch. He went up and found them full of just the kind of nails he wanted. He had nothing but his hat, so he took that off and put several handfuls of nails into it. Then he ran home. Frank had hoped to go into the workshop to empty his hat before his aunt saw him, but she was waiting for him on the porch as he came up. 11 Why, Frank, what is in your hat?" she asked as she took the bundles from him. " O, it's just something I found," said Frank. But she was not to be put off in that way. " What is it, Frank? I must see it." Then he showed her the shining nails. " Where did you get them? " " O, down the street." " Frank," said his aunt, " you never tell a He; I know that you are truthful. Now, tell me where you got them." So Frank told his aunt all about them. " Frank," she said, when she had heard the story, " why did you not tell us that you needed other nails? " " I did not like to. Uncle had just bought me the goats and the harness." " Well, of course we shall go down and put the nails back just where you found them. We cannot sleep in the house with anything that has been stolen! Do you know, Frank, that the people here leave every- thing open? You are the first person who has stolen anything here for years! " "Why, Aunt Martha! I did not steal them! I only just took a few, and there were kegs and kegs of them standing open! " " Really, Frank, it seems meaner to me to take a 190 Appendix. thing when people trust you and do not lock it up, than if they do not trust you." Frank did not answer. " Very well, if you do not want to go down to return them now with me, we will wait until your uncle comes home. He is a lawyer, and will know what had best be done." Frank was still silent. His uncle had been so kind to him, and always treated him as if he were almost a man. He was afraid to face him. It had seemed such a little thing to do when he took the nails. He had not called it stealing, but only " taking." Now he saw his deed, which had not grown any worse, in a differ- ent light. His aunt took the hat and put it down on the porch. " We will not take them in, Frank," she said; " we will leave them here. I should be sorry to think that a stolen thing had ever entered the house where your uncle and I live. Your uncle is a man who is trusted with thousands of dollars. He has a chance to steal, every day, again and again. But do you think he would do so, just because he has the chance? " It is true that your uncle has never made as much money as some others, but the whole country knows him to be a man who can be trusted in great things and in small, and that is more than much money. His name is Abraham, you know, and they call him ' Honest Abe,' just as they did Abraham Lincoln. I am proud of him." " Aunt Martha, if you will go with me, I will take those back now, quick, before Uncle Abe gets home." Frank could hardly wait for his aunt to get a wrap. They met no one on the street. Aunt Martha Frank's Lesson. 191 walked around the new house and watched Frank put the nails back. They did not speak. When they turned to go home, the dog in the next yard barked. Frank started. A door was opened, and the man in the door saw two dark figures walking away. " Hello! " he called in surprise. " Who >s that? " " It is Mrs. King," was the quiet answer. " Oh, ah! excuse me, Mrs. King. I did not know but it was some one doing mischief. Good night, Mrs. King. Can you see ? " " yes, thank you, Mr. Williams," she said, and the door was closed. Then Aunt Martha took Frank's hand in hers and they walked towards home. "Aunt Martha," said Frank, half choking; "I never really knew before what stealing was, and I '11 never do it again. I know it now; but please don't tell Uncle Abe; please don't, Aunt Martha! We boys always called it taking, but I '11 never call it that again." " Frank, I shall never tell him. It is not mine to tell, now that you have returned the nails. But if you really feel that you will never do such a thing again, why not tell him yourself? " We often speak of lessons in doing right that we learned when we were children why not tell him of this lesson? Don't you think it would be more manly to tell him? He is so kind, and he will understand how you did not really know. I do not like to have this secret between us, you see." " Let me think about it first, Aunt Martha, please," Frank pleaded. " Of course you shall," she answered kindly; "but 192 Appendix. remember that it is hard to sleep on a thing like this. Better get rid of it as soon as you can." They reached home just in time. Uncle Abe came in a little later. He was in gay spirits, and brought the little harness. After dinner Mrs. King went out to see a neighbor, and when she returned she could see by Frank's happy face that he had told his uncle all about it. They spent a very pleasant evening together, and Frank was glad that his uncle had not changed tow- ard him, but treated him as much like a man as ever. HOW A GLACIER ANSWERED A QUESTION. FOB many years the question as to whether glaciers moved faster near the banks, or midway between them, was an open one among scientists. A young man, Louis Agassiz, who lived in Switzer- land, where many glaciers are moving slowly down the mountain sides, determined to find out how these great rivers of ice move. Accordingly, he pitched his tent upon a glacier, pre- pared to stay all summer. Near his tent he drove a row of stout pegs in a straight line across the stream, and watched them carefully from month to month, while he spent his days in the mountains, studying the rocks and plants and animals there. At the end of several months, the pegs were no longer in a straight line, but formed a bow, curving downward. Agassiz had said to the glacier, " My friend, please tell me where you move faster, near the bank, or in midstream? " The glacier answered distinctly, " I move faster in midstream." 193 MISCELLANEOUS PROVERBS. 1. BETTER be alone than in bad company. 2. A thousand probabilities will not make one truth. 3. By learning to obey, you will know how to com- mand. 4. Charity should begin at home, but not end there. 5. Do good with what thou hast, or it will do thee no good. 6. Each day is a new life; regard it, therefore, as an epitome of the whole. 7. There is no worse robber than a bad book. 8. Use soft words and hard arguments. 9. To advise and take advice is the duty of true friendship. 10. Want of punctuality is a kind of falsehood. 11. Wherever there is flattery, there is sure to be a fool. 12. A bad workman quarrels with his tools. 13. Be slow to promise, but quick to perform. 14. Keep good company, and be one of the number. 15. First deserve and then desire. 16. He that reckons without his host must reckon again. 17. He liveth long who liveth well. 18. Many go out for wool and come home shorn. 19. Live not to eat, but eat to live. 20. Never speak to deceive, nor listen to betray. 21. The sting of a reproach is the truth of it. 194 Miscellaneous Proverbs. 195 22. The sin, not the punishment, makes the shame. 23. Entertain no thoughts which you would blush at in words. 24. He who will not be ruled by the rudder must be ruled by the rock. 25. He who shows his passion tells his enemy where to hit him. 26. He who has good health is young. 27. Never throw stones if you live in a glass house. 28. Few wants make happy hearts. 29. Make hay while the sun shines. 30. While you see the faults in others, do not judge them. 31. What a man bears willingly, is lightly borne. QUOTATIONS. 1. No PAST is dead to us, but only sleeping. Helen Hunt. 2. Our ideals are our better selves. Alcott* 3. The problem of life is to make the ideal real. Parkhurst. 4. Happiness is not the end of life; character is. Beecher. 5. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives, who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. Bailey. 6. It is only when one is thoroughly true that there can be purity and freedom. Auerbach. 7. We owe to man higher succors than food and fire. We owe to man, man. Eliot . 8. It is not a question of what a man has acquired, but of what he is, and what he can do. Holland. 9. A fault which humbles a man is of more use to him than a good action which puffs him up with pride. Thomas Wilson. 10. Good humor may be said to be one of the very best articles of dress that one can possible wear in society. Thackeray. 11. Man's liberty ends, and it ought to end, when that liberty becomes the curse of his neighbors. Farrar. 12. Trouble teaches man what there is in man- hood. Beecher. 196 Quotations. 197 13. Higher than the perfect song For which love longeth, Is the tender fear of wrong That never wrongeth. B. Taylor. 14. Something the heart must have to cherish, Must love, and joy, and sorrow learn. Something with passion clasp or perish; And in itself to ashes burn. Longfellow. 15. Our duty is to be useful, not according to our desire, but according to our power. Amiel. 16. Want of care does us more damage than want of knowledge. Franklin. 17. The greatest friend of Truth is Time; her greatest enemy is prejudice; and her constant com- panion is humility. Colton, 18. To love truth for truth's sake is the principal part of human perfection, and the seed-plant of all other virtues. Locke. 19. I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble, or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of Truth lay all undiscovered before me. Newton. 20. Faith is among men what gravity is among planets and suns; it keeps them in their orbits. Parkhurst. 21. The faith which you keep must be a faith that demands obedience, and you can keep it only by obey- ing it. Phillips Brooks. 198 Appendix. 22. The truth you speak does lack some gentleness, and time to speak it in; you rub the sore when you should bring the plaster. Shakespeare. 23. The man that 's resolute and just, Firm to his principles and trust, Nor hopes nor fears can blind. Walsh. 24. Errors like straws upon the surface flow; He who would search for pearls must dive below. Dry den. 25. Our patience will achieve more than our force. Burke. 26. Only people who possess firmness, possess true gentleness. Rochefoucauld. 27. Patience is a necessary ingredient of genius. Disraeli. 28. Patience is the strongest of strong drinks, for it kills the giant Despair. Jerrold. 29. Virtue will catch, as well as vice, by contact. Burke. 30. Virtue, when it is a matter of expediency and calculation, is the virtue of vice. Joubert. 31. Without virtue and without integrity, the finest talents and the most brilliant accomplishments can never gain the respect and esteem of the truly valu- able part of mankind. Washington. 32. It is through the mysterious human relation- ships; through the love and tenderness and purity of mothers, sisters, and wives; through the strength and courage and wisdom of brothers, fathers, and friends, that we can ^ome to the knowledge of Him in whom alone the love and the tenderness, and the purity, Quotations. 199 and the strength, and the courage, and the wisdom dwell forever and in perfect fullness. Thomas Hughes. 33. What sculpture is to a block of marble, educa- tion is to a human soul. Addison. 34. The secret of education lies in respecting the pupil. Emerson. 35. The worst education which teaches self-denial, is better than the best which teaches everything else, but not that. /. Sterling. 36. A little management may often evade resistance, which a vast force might vainly strive to overcome. -Anonymous. 37. To know how to suggest is the great art of teaching. To attain it, we must be able to guess what will interest. We must learn to read the childish soul as we might a piece of music. Author. The Western Series of Readers EDITED BY HARR WAGNER Designed Especially for Supplementary Work in HISTORY AND NATURE STUDY In Our Public Schools All Fully and Beautifully Illustrated. Each Volume Contains from Eighteen to Twenty-Six Full-Page Pictures. EXTENSIVELY ADOPTED AND USED IN THE SCHOOLS OF THE PACIFIC COAST VOL. I PACIFIC HISTORY STORIES By HARR WAGNER For Fourth and Fifth Grades During the short time that this book has been on the market its sale has been phenomenal. It is pronounced, by all of our leading educators, to be excellently adapted to the work for which it was intended a supplementary reader in history study in the Fourth and Fifth Grades. Fully two-thirds of the counties in California have this book on their supplementary and library list. VOL. II PACIFIC NATURE STORIES By HARR WAGNER and DAVID S. JORDAN and others For Fourth and Fifth Grades A companion volume to the above. It contains some eighteen most interesting and instructive sketches of our Western animal and vegetable life, all told in a delightfully flowing style and written by :he greatest educators of the West. As a reading book in nature ly it cannot be excelled. thegrt study i VOL.111 NATURE STORIES OF THE NORTHWEST By HERBERT BASHFORD State librarian of Washington FOP Sixth and Seventh Grades This book covers a more extended field than Volume II, and is not strictly confined to the Northwest. Among the interesting stones will be found those of The Black Bear, The Kingfisher, The Clam, The Meadowlark, The Seals, etc., all of which are of interest to any pupil in the West. The illustrations are works of art and true to nature. VOL. IV TALES OF DISCOVERY ON THE PACIFIC SLOPE By MARGARET GRAHAM HOOD FOP Third and Fourth Grades The Tale of History could not be more charmingly told than it is in this volume, which is intended for the lower grades. A Third or Fourth Grade pupil will read it easily, and with interest. Its eight chapters are devoted to the early history of our great Western empire, and tell of characters and events, but little touched upon by the general school history. The child here acquires a taste that leads him to further research. VOL. V TALES OF OUR NEW POSSESSIONS, THE PHILIPPINES Written by R. VAN BERGEN A Thirty- Year resident of the Orient Author of "Story of Japan," Etc. Illustrated by P. N. BOERINGER War Artist Correspondent at Manila for San Francisco Papers For the Sixth, Seventh and Eighth Grades A timely book for the young. We employed to write this volume, a man whose thirty-year residence in the Orient made him thoroughly familiar with the people and their customs. Its thirty* eight chapters, all richly illustrated by the best artist we could secure, will give the pupil an excellent idea of our new country a knowledge which will prove of great financial value to him. VOL. VI STORIES OF OUR MOTHER EARTH By HAROLD W. FAIRBANKS, Ph. D. Illustrated by MARY H. WELLMAN With 27 Full Page Illustrations. An Intensely In* teresting and Instructive Work on Nature Study For the Sixth and Seventh Grades Can the study of Geology be made interesting to the young? It certainly can when written in the style of this book. It contains some thirty-eight chapters, every one laden with knowledge but all reading like a story book. The chapters on The Yosemite Valley , The San Francisco Bay and The Colorado River in themselves alone warrant the purchase of the book. Complete Descriptive Circular, giving contents of each volume, testimonials, etc., sent on application. PRICES School Edition, Bound in Board, Leather Back, Net 50 cents library Edition, Bound in Cloth, Net 60 cents PUBLISHED BY WHITAKER & RAY CO. 723 MARKET STREET, SAN FRANCISCO. FOUR QREflT BOOKS BY WESTERN PUBLISHED BT THE WHITAKBR & RAY CO. 723 Market St., San Francisco JOAQUIN MILLER'S~COMPLETE POEMS EIGHT VOLUMES IN ONE INCLUDING "Songs of the Sierras" "Songs of Sunfand" "Songs of Italy" "Songs of the Soul" "Songs of the Mexican Seas" "Classic Shades" "Olive Leaves" "Joaquin" et al. Price, Library Edition, postpaid ....................... $2.50 Price, Gift Edition, Leather ............................. 4.50 BY DAVID STARR JORDAN President Iceland Stanford, Jr. University "CARE AND CULTURE OF MEN" Price, Cloth, postpaid ............... . . .$1.50 Price, Half Levant, postpaid ......................... 3.50 "MATKA AND KOTIK" AN ALI.KGORY OP THE FUR SEAL. Profusely Illustrated Special School Edition, net .......................... $0.75 Price, Cloth, postpaid ............................... . 1.50 Price, Half levant postpaid ......................... 3.50 "The Story of the Innumerable Company And Other Sketches. Illustrated Price, Cloth, postpaid ................................ $1.25 Price, Half Levant, postpaid ......................... 3.50 One Set of Jordan, 3 Vols. in box, Cloth, postpaid ....... $ 4.00 One Set of Jordan, 3 Vols. in box, half Levant, postpaid. 10.00 MISCELLANEOUS LIBRARY BOOKS Sugar Pine Murmurings, by Eliz. S. Wilson ..................... $1 00 Adventures of a Tenderfoot, by H. H. Sauber ................... 1 00 The Main Points, by Rev. C.R. Brown .............................. 1 25 Life, by Hon. John R.Rogers. ........................................ 1 00 Lyries of the Golden West, by Rev. W. D.Crabb ................. 1 00 Songs of Puget Sea, by Herbert Bashford ........................ 100 Dr. Jones' Pienie, by Dr. S. E. Chapman ............ . ............. A Modern Argonaut, by Leela B. Davis ........................... Percy or the Four Inseparables, by M. Lee .................. ... Personal Impressions of the Grand Canyon of the Colorado 1 50 Some Homely Little Songs, by Alfred James Waterhouse ....... 1 25 Forget-me-nots, by Lillian Leslie Pajje. Illuminated paper cover 50 Guide to Mexico, by Christobal Hidalgo ....................... 100 Scad for Complete Descriptive Portrait Circular of Our Vestern Publications TEXT, SUPPLEMENTARY AND LIBRARY BOOKS Elementary Exercises in Botany, by Prof. Volney Rattan $0 75 Key to West Coast Botany, by Prof. Rattan 1 00 Complete Botany (above, two in one Volume) 150 New Essentials of Bookkeeping, by Prof. c. w. childs Net 75 Topical Analysis of U. S. History, by Prof. C. W. Childs 1 00 Heart Culture, Wessons in Humane Education, by Emma E. Page 75 Spanish In Spanish, by LuisDuque Net 125 Patriotic Quotations, by Harr Wagner 40 Key to State Advanced Arithmetic, by A. M.Armstrong 1 00 New Manual Of Shorthand, by A. J. Marsh Net 1 25 Studies in Entomology, by H. M. Bland 75 Algebraic Solutions of Equations, by Andre & Buchanan, Net 80 Study of the Kindergarten Problem, by Fred'k i,. Burk 50 Orthoepy and Spelling, by John W. Imes, (4 parts each) 20 Toyon A book of Holiday Selections, by Allie M. Felker Paper, 35c. Board, 60c. Cloth 100 Supplement to State History, by Harr Wagner 25 Matka, a Tale of the Mist Islands, by David Starr Jordan (Schooled) 75 Educational Questions, by W.C.Doub 1 00 Lessons In Language Work, by Belle Frazee Net 50 WESTERN SERIES OF PAPER BOOKS No. 1. Songs of the Soul, by Joaquin Miller 25 No. 2. Dr. Jones' Picnic, by Dr. S.E. Chapman 25 No. 3. Modern Argonaut, by I,eela B. Davis 25 No. 4. How to Celebrate Holiday Occasions Compiled 25 No. 5. Patriotic Quotations 25 WESTERN LITERATURE SERIES No. 1. Readings from California Poets, by Edmund Russell Paper,25c. Board 40 WESTERN SERIES OF BOOKLETS No. 1. California and the Californians, by David Starr Jordan 25 No. 2. Love and Law, by Thos. P. Bailey 25 No. 3. The Man Who Might Have Been, by Robert Whitaker 25 No. 4. Chants for the Boer, by Joaquin Miller 25 No. 6. Toll, Poems by D. F. Leary 25 WESTERN EDUCATIONAL HELPS No. 1. Civil Government Simplified, by j.j.Duvall 25 No. 2. An Aid in the Study and Teaching of Lady of the Lake, Evangeline, and Merchant of Venice, by J. W.Graham. 25 No. 3. Grammar by the Inductive Method, by w. C. Doub. . 25 " 1 50m-7,'16 I3IC2 1 05033