scarcely think of praising the average man for coming up to this standard. Some virtues we expect of certain classes of men, and not in the same degree of others. We expect, for example, a greater foresight and power of self-control in those who have enjoyed educational advantages and whose horizon has been widened. And we expect a much greater sensitiveness to moral considerations on the part of those who have had the inestimable advantage of good moral training, and have been brought up in a good home. We Judge a man according to the class in which we find him; if he falls below the expected standard of excellence, we blame him, and if he rises above it, we regard him as worthy of credit. But besides these class-standards, which may be very numerous, we have individual standards which we apply when we come to know individual men well, and these express our judgment of the actual moral condition of the individual.
We have, perhaps, known our friend Smith for ten years or more, and have clearly perceived that he readily falls a prey to irascible impulses. He himself deplores the fact, and resolves to express himself more temperately when things happen to ruffle him. We see him on some trying occasion with flushed cheek and the flash in his eye that has heretofore heralded the tempest. But the expected storm does not come; the good resolution has triumphed, and the clouds roll away without emptying themselves as the weather-wise had fully expected them to do. Of course we give Smith no little credit for this victory, and if we really know him intimately we probably endeavor to let him know, in some tactful way, that we admire his magnanimity and self-control. Or perhaps the individual to whom we give credit for a rather unexpected act of self-denial is our son Tommy, whom we have known rather intimately for a number of years, and with whose impulses and capabilities we think we are fairly well acquainted. The boy has on various occasions found stolen jam irresistibly sweet, and neither reflections upon the possibilities of detection and punishment nor the feeble stings of an immature conscience have sufficed to deter him from tasting that sweetness. But we discover that, on a certain occasion, opportunity has not been lacking. There has been a prolonged conflict between the law in his members and the law in his mind, and the latter has come off victorious. We praise Tommy for his continence, make him feel that he has left the field covered with glory, and we devise means of implanting in his small mind the conviction that honesty is not a thing to be regretted.
In this last instance we have, I think, a good indication of what we really mean by the credit that is given to this or that good action, and of the standard by which we measure it. We think of an action as creditable when we recognize the presence of warring impulses, and regard the good decision as a victory over a more or less redoubtable enemy. The
