fear of detection, keep the money himself. He makes up his mind,
deliberately, to keep it, and then, almost against his will,
subconsciously as it were, walks to the office of the man who lost the
money and restores it to him.

Now, doubtless, in his downward career he had done many things which
judged by any absolute standard of morality were quite as wrong as the
keeping of that money would have been, but the fact remained that he
could not do that deed. Others, yes, but not that. He was a gentleman,
and gentlemen do not steal private property, whatever they may do
about public property. Yet probably, in all his life he had not once
been told not to steal--not one word had he been taught, openly,
on the subject. No one whom he knew stole. He was never expected
to steal. Stealing was a sin beyond the pale. So strong was this
unconscious, _but unvarying_ influence, that by it he was saved, in
the hour of extreme need, from even feeling the force of a temptation
that to a boy born and reared, say, in the slums, would have been
overwhelming.

Now, considering such things, I take it that it behooves us, as
parents, to look closely at the sort of persons that we are, clear
inside of us. To examine, as if with the clear eyes of our own
children, waiting to be clouded by our sophistries, the motives from
which we habitually act in the small affairs of everyday life. Are
we influenced by fear of what the neighbors will say? Have we one
standard of courtesy for company times, and another for private
moments? If so, why? Are we self-indulgent about trifles? Are we
truthful in spirit as well as in letter? Do we permit ourselves to
cheat the street-car and the railroad company, teaching the child at
our side to sit low that he may ride for half-fare? Do we seek