usefulness, and goes on missions of love to those who are in ignorance and sin. It is the hope of the world.

The desires for knowledge, for wealth, and for superiority or notoriety, and the corresponding aversions to ignorance, to poverty, and inferiority or obscurity, are well-nigh universal.

The desire for knowledge is more than a vulgar curiosity, a desire for novelty; for it embraces the wide field of science, literature and art, also the professional commercial, mechanical, and agricultural pursuits. The desire for knowledge is closely related to that for intellectual perfection. It arises from the utility of knowledge, from the constitution of the intellectual powers, from the scope for activity which the pursuit of knowledge affords, from the pleasure which the pursuit and acquisition bring, and from the distinction which the possession of knowledge confers. This desire usually assumes certain specific forms, as the desire for a knowledge of a certain science, art, language, or profession. Partaking, in early life, the character of curiosity, it seeks, in later life, for the practical, and, in some cases, for the speculative, and the universal. Aversion to ignorance is the necessary counterpart of the desire for knowledge, augmented also by the consideration of the disabilities attending ignorance.

The desire for wealth is natural, and, within certain limitations, useful and commendable. It checks vice, promotes industry, and fosters the useful sciences and arts. The pursuit of wealth affords pleasure in the activity which it calls forth; and the possession gratifies the desire for its acquisition, affords the means for the gratification of other desires, confers the dignity of independence and social distinction, and supplies the means for promoting the welfare of society. Avarice, or undue desire for wealth, induces anxious care and slavish toil, begets covetousness, or desire for the property of others, and culminates in mammon worship or miserly wretchedness. Aversion to poverty, the necessary consequence of a desire for wealth, is strengthened by the knowledge of the evils of poverty.

Ambition, the desire for power or fame, is a native and powerful impulse to action. The ambition to be wise, and good, and useful is a laudable virtue; but selfish ambition is a vulgar vice, detestable in itself and dangerous to society. The desire for the approval of the wise and good, coupled with an effort to merit that approval, leads to worthy achievement; but vanity, the undue desire of praise, is a weakness which is usually exhibited by those devoid of merit. Coupled with untruthfulness, it leads to deceit or hypocrisy. Pride desires power; vanity, praise. Pride elevates us in our own estimation; vanity seeks for elevation in the estimation of others. Mortification is wounded vanity; it is not self-reproach for moral delinquency, but the shame that accompanies the fear of ridicule for our blunders, failures, or breach of etiquette. Aversion to inferiority or obscurity is the counterpart of ambition, or desire of power or fame.

Hope and fear are compound feelings, related, though opposite. They agree in the common element of expectation, which varies with the probability of the expected event, as intellectually apprehended. They differ in the element combined with expectation, which is desire, in case of hope, but aversion, in case of fear.

Hope, then, is the desire felt for expected good; but fear is the aversion felt towards expected evil. Both look to the future. The elements of hope,-desire and expectation -vary in relative strength in different cases; so do the elements of fear,-aversion and expectation. The common element, expectation, is intellectual; the element of desire in hope, or aversion in fear, is emotional. If the emotional element of desire in hope, and of aversion in fear, diminish, these feelings approach pure expectation, which varies with the probability, as intellectually apprehended, and hope and fear change from opposite emotion to intellectual expectations, and become identical. If the intellectual element, expectation, in hope and fear diminish, they approach the opposite emotions of desire and aversion. If both elements are strong, we have, on the one hand, joyful hope, and on the other the dread of impending evil. Hope is exhilarating; it gives strength and elasticity of spirit, and patience and power of endurance. Fear is depressing, though sometimes it leads to powerful efforts to avert an impending calamity, especially if combined with resentment.

Faith is confidence in a person or thing from which we hope to realize some object of desire. The object of hope is some form of good; but the object of faith is that which is regarded as a source of good. Trust is the committal of an interest to an object of faith.

Anxiety is a form of fear in which the evil to be avoided is rather possible and uncertain than probable and expected. It feels the possibility of danger, and, as a feeling, it

may be prolonged indefinitely. Though occasioned by external conditions, it is aggravated by an excitable temperament, and leading to worry and nervousness, is unfavorable to health.

Apprehension is occasioned by a stronger probability of evil than anxiety. It anticipates danger. Alarm is excited by sudden danger. Dread is the fear of impending calamity. Terror is paralyzing fear. Horror is sympathetic terror induced by the sudden danger or calamity of others. Despair is the absence of all hope of deliverance from actual or threatened evil. It may result in complete inactivity, or as sometimes in war, it may exhibit prodigious effort known as the courage of despair.

By some Psychologists, the desires and aversions have been classed with the volitions, and regarded as phenomena of the will; but a craving for a good, or a repugnance for an evil, is emotional rather than voluntary. They are, no doubt, closely connected with the volitions. They are motives of volition, and together with the affections, are the most powerful springs of action, whether their objects are actually present, or are represented by the imagination. A volition is a decision to act, and when prompted by reason and conscience, is often made contrary to the solicitations of desire or affection, and denies them gratification.

It may be thought that the affections and desires are passively determined; that they are automatic in their action; and that, being unavoidable, we are not responsible for their manifestations.

Thus, Spinoza says, "If we imagine that we are hated by another, without having given him any cause for it, we shall hate him in return." This is, perhaps, the natural tendency, but it is not inevitable; for, if we have reached that high ethical attainment of love for our enemies, we will not hate him, but wish him well, and do him good, as we have opportunity. The geometrical method, employed by Spinoza, is not the best method for psychological study. We must employ observation, external and internal, reflection, rational intuition, experiment, generalization, in short, all the means at our command.

The feelings are determined by conditions, and these conditions are largely under our own control, since they are intellectually apprehended, and can be contemplated at will. By voluntarily directing our thoughts to the conditions of emotions, affections, and desires, we have to a great degree, the control of these feelings themselves.

Seeing or imagining beautiful objects, awakens agreeable æsthetic emotions. Thinking of acts of injustice arouses the feeling of indignation. The memory of benefits conferred by a friend, calls forth the emotion of gratitude. Though feelings are modified by counter feelings, or restrained by the direct effort of the will, yet the most effective mode of controlling feeling, is by controlling the conditions of feeling, the most important of which are thoughts. What then shall we think about? I can give no better answer than that given by Holy Writ: "Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honorable, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, if there be any praise, think on these things."

WILL-TRAINING.

BY B. A. HINSDALE.

The general acceptance of the current division of the mind dates from the year 1790, when Kant, in the "Critique of the Judgment," gave it the sanction of his high authority. Since that time most psychologists have made the Kantian trichotomy the starting-point for psychological investigations. But, while thus agreeing in making the Intellect, the Sensibility, and the Will the dividing members of the mind, they do not agree in the accounts that they give of those members. They agree that there is a knowing faculty, but do not agree concerning the nature and origin of certain kinds of knowledge; they agree that there is a feeling faculty, but do not agree as to the nature and varieties of feeling; they agree that there is a willing faculty, but, if possible, disagree even more widely touching the will. Into these controversies concerning the nature of the will, I shall not enter; but shall content myself with stating what, as a general proposition, will scarcely be disputed, viz: The will is the power that the mind has of deciding what it will do, and of

carrying its decisions into effect. Accordingly, the will involves both decision and volition, an elective and a conative power, and is, in consequence, the pre-eminently active power of the mind.

The relations of the will to knowledge and feeling are numerous and important. First, the mind cannot assert itself with marked power and effect in more than one direction at the same time. Thus, vigorous, practical action is incompatible with that mental state which is essential to nice observation, careful experiment, and close reasoning. Again, vigorous, practical action is incompatible with strong excitement of the sensibility. To the popular mind, the man of action is the opposite of the man of reflection; but he is as much the opposite of the man of feeling. In fact, a decided predominance of any one faculty determines a type of character. Secondly, the will is dependent on both the intellect and the sensibility; knowledge and feeling must precede choice. This is fully shown in two examples given by Mr. Sully, that I here abridge:-A boy sees a flower growing on the wall above his head; the sight of the flower calls up to his mind a representation of the pleasure of smelling it or of carrying it in his button-hole; the desire thus aroused leads first to a determination to possess the flower, and secondly to the appropriate action to carry out the choice; the boy raises his body, stretches out his hand and plucks the flower from the wall. Again, a girl who is playing in the garden suddenly feels heavy drops of rain and hears the mutterings of thunder; this cognitive act is followed by a representation of the disagreeable results of a wetting; and this agitation of the sensibility is followed by a quick retreat to the house. The two examples differ only in this--the one involves pleasant and the other unpleasant feeling. But, thirdly, while certain subjects sometimes automatically "command" the attention of the mind, the will also "commands" the mind and "fixes" its power on subjects of its own choosing. Then, in the fourth place, while some subjects, or an incident or story, spontaneously "seize" the sensibility and arouse feeling, the will compels the mind to "dwell" on other subjects until feeling is aroused and accumulated. The automatic and spontaneous elements of the human mind have much to do with man's mental life and history; but the mind has never distinguished itself, in the highest degree, in any field of action, but it has been energized by a vigorous will. Whether we consider Newton in science, Niebuhr in history and classical learning, Angelo in art, Howard in philanthropy, Bismarck in politics Sir Thomas Brassey in business, or Grant in war,-success depends quite as much on singleness of aim and steadiness of purpose as on insight or an original impulse. While great men of affairs, as statesmen, soldiers, and captains of industry, are strong in certain intellectual faculties, they are particularly marked by the ascendency of the will. The statue of Prince Bismarck that stood before the "Annex" to the Art Hall at Philadelphia, in 1876, was congealed resolution, solidified purpose. "Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel," "children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine," are vigorous scripture descriptions of fickle and unsuccessful types of character. The apparent exceptions to this reasoning only confirm the reasoning. Great men are often weak in will on some side, as Bacon was on the moral side; but there must be high purpose in what makes the man great. Moreover, while powers, ill-regulated and working more or less at random, may achieve occasional successes, they do not achieve success. Coleridge, whom James Russell Lowell, in Westminster Abbey, has lately called the most striking example in literature of a great genius given in trust to a nerveless will and a fitful purpose, wrote some great poems; but Coleridge, after all, compared with what he might have been as thinker and man of letters, was a failure. But it is in morals and in conduct that potency and impotency of will are of most concern. Good lives may flow from intellectual insight, sound moral habits, equable emotions, healthful appetites and desires; but the best lives have their highest source in conscious choice and intelligent volition. Moreover, immorality is often traceable to bad habits formed in early life, to ignorance, or to a disproportionate development of appetites, desires or emotions; but the larger number of immoralities is due to defects of will.

On the whole, looking over the field of human life and analyzing its vast and varied phenomena, we can hardly exaggerate the failures, the unhappiness, the misery, and the wickedness that originate in defective wills,-defective by nature or by training, or by both nature and training. Accordingly, no student of the mind and of society worth regarding is likely to question the statement of Dr. Morill: "The education of the will is really of far greater importance, as shaping the destiny of the individual, than that of the intellect."

In discussing the training of any faculty, the first great practical question that con

fronts us is, What is the end at which we aim? The will comprehends choice and volition; manifestly, then, a well trained will is one that can, when informed by knowledge and stimulated by feeling, decide promptly and execute vigorously along several, I will not say all, lines of mental and practical activity. This will stand out with the greater boldness, when we have considered the chief defects of will power.

1. Indecision or Weakness of Will.-This springs from nature or training, and reveals itself in a variety of forms. Sometimes it is continuous indecision. "He can't make up his mind," is the popular description of such a character. Sometimes it is a restless flitting from object to object. "He never sticks to any one thing "is now the popular description. The highest intellectual cultivation often tends to enervate the will. One faculty is fed at the expense of another. It is because they are too much called out on the speculative side, and too little called out on the active side, that poets, artists, men of letters and philosophers, are so apt to prove weak and helpless in practical affairs. The dilatory processes of observation, introspection, "brooding," analysis, and induction, so essential in letters, philosophy and science, are almost fatal to decisive choice and strenuous volition. Hamlet is generally regarded the best representation of this character, and certain it is that large discourse looking before and after," such as his, leads to questions and to doubts that culminate in that state of mind which no one so well as Hamlet has described:

"And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprise of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action."

2. Strong and Ill Regulated Will.-Characters to whom this description applies are easy to find in literature, in history, and in real life. Take the man altogether, there is plenty of will-power, but it is fitful, capricious, unregulated; there is abundance of ability both to decide and to execute, but it is badly distributed. You can rarely find it when, or in such quantities as you want it. Over-energetic resolution and complete irresolution are the two extreme points of the arc through which such men move. What are called " passionate natures" are frequently marked by strong but ungoverned wills. Only too numerous in all historical countries, men of this type abound in the East,

"the land where the cypress and myrtle

Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime:
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime."

The Turk, now lethargic, now energetic, is an example of this type of character. Another type we characterize as "willful," "stubborn," "obstinate." etc.-epithets that also imply a lack of knowledge or narrowness of mind. But, paradoxical as it may seem, absence of will is sometimes taken for excess of will, the reason being that unwillingness to do and inability to do have the same result. That the "willful" child of the nursery and the school is often rather a willess child, is shown by Dr. Carpenter in a paragraph that most teachers of lower grade schools should read once a term, if not once a month: "Those 'strong minded' teachers who object to these modes of making things pleas **ant,' as an unworthy and undesirable 'weakness,' are ignorant that in this stage of the "child-mind, the will-that is, the power of self-control-is weak, and that the primary "object of education is to encourage and strengthen, not to repress, that power. Great "mistakes are often made by parents and teachers, who, being ignorant of this funda"mental fact of child-nature, treat as willfulness what in reality is just the contrary of "will-fullness: being the direct result of the want of volitional control over the auto"matic activity of the brain. To punish a child for the want of obedience which it has "not the power to render, is to inflict an injury which may almost be said to be irreparable. For nothing tends so much to prevent the healthful development of moral sense, as the infliction of punishment which the child feels to be unjust; and nothing retards the ac"quirement of the power of directing the intellectual processes, so much as the emo“tional disturbance which the feeling of injustice provokes. Hence the determination " often expressed to 'break the will' of an obstinate child by punishment, is almost cer. "tain to strengthen these reactionary influences. Many a child is put into durance "vile' for not learning' the little busy bee,' who simply can not give its small mind to "the task, whilst disturbed by stern commands and threats of yet severer punishment

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"for a disobedience it cannot help, when a suggestion, kindly and skillfully adapted to its "automatic nature, by directing the turbid current of thought and feeling into a smoother "channel, and guiding the activity which it does not attempt to oppose, shall bring about "the desired result, to the surprise alike of the baffled teacher, the passionate pupil, and "the perplexed bystanders."

3. Will strong in some directions, weak in others.-This head is not a mere subdivision of the last one. There we had, now decision, now indecision in the same or in similar lines of action; here we have continuous strength in some lines and continuous weakness in others. Thus, a man may be full of decision and energy as a student; he may promptly seize all hints and vigorously follow up all clues in historical study or scientific research; and at the same time be indecisive and weak in affairs. This may be explained in part by the student's ignorance of affairs: but here again we are confronted by that excess of activity on the one side and defect of activity on the other side which eat out the heart of decision and energy. Again, a man may have plenty of will power in affairs, and have no ability to resist his appetites, his desires or his passions. Napoleon has been described as "the man in modern times who combined the strongest will with the most powerful intellect;" but thirst for glory and fame dominated his life, and he shamelessly declared that the common rules of morality, well enough in their places, were never intended for him.

Is there a general power of will,-a power that is available for any and all purposes? There is in the sense that there is a power of mind which can be turned to general aecount. The common law of mind holds here, viz: need of specialized training. The cultivation of sense-perception is only in a secondary way the cultivation of representa- · tion or of reflection. Moreover, it is only in a limited degree that there is a general faculty of observation or of reasoning. A man may be a close observer of natural objects, and be careless and indifferent to social and political facts; or he may analyze the hardest social, legal, and moral questions, and be incapable of sorting a handful of grasses or a basket of sea-shells. Not only must each intellectual faculty have a training of its own, but it must have a specialized training for each special subject or group of subjects. And so with the will. Men are decisive and resolute in some things, indecisive and irresolute in others. There is a will-element in studies, in practical affairs, and in morals; but the power that has been created for the one purpose is not usable, or fully usable, for the other purposes. So strikingly is this true, and so different are the spheres in which the will acts, that we may subdivide it into species. Why not the " intellectual will," the "practical will," and the "moral will," as well as the "speculative intellect" and the "moral judgment?" In fact, there is not a general will power to the extent that there is a general intellectual power. These facts point decisively to harmony or symmetry of will-training. A child's will should be so trained that he can attend to studies, that he can do business, and, above all, that he can perform those acts which make up the common moral life, whether of active virtue and benevolence or of resistance to temptation. Theoretical symmetry is indeed impossible; the poet, man of business, and soldier, will never be equal in the development and adjustment of the mental faculties; but wise attention given to children will secure for most of them a fair development of will in the fields of speculative, active, and moral life. The last I emphasize; because the elevation of moral acts above all other acts measures the greater necessity of will-training in the moral field.

We come now to the second great practical question: How shall will-training be managed? First of all let us clearly understand that such training rests on the common educational basis,-the law of action. Power to choose comes through choosing, power to act through action. Hence the child must be taught to decide matters by deciding them, to do things by doing them. This education should begin, and in fact does begin, with the infant's birth. It is well said that in " primitive or first knowing there is little consciousness-a mere life of feeling;" but as consciousness dawns like the morning, and formal knowledge begins with acts of analysis, certain objects fasten themselves on the child's mind, and automatic attention takes its rise. These first points of mental contact are all important for the purpose of education; they become centers of energy, and so nuclei of habits. They are starting points for volition and attention for volitional movement should follow hard on the footsteps of spontaneous movement. The education of the will has its origin in the volitional control of the bodily members. From this small beginning it goes on to mightiest results. Thus these first points of choice and volition cannot be too carefully protected. How widely suggestive are these sentences from Dr. Harris: