about his mother, which shows us what a wise lady she must have been,
and how in the days of his manhood, with the cares of a great nation
upon him, he yet pondered upon the childhood teaching of home. First,
he speaks of his grandfather Verus, who, by his example, taught him
not to be prone to anger; then of his father, the Emperor Antoninus
Pius, from whom he learned to be modest and manly; then of his mother,
whose name was Domitia Calvilla. Let us read some of his own words
about her, dwelling particularly upon a few of them. He writes: "As
for my mother, she taught me to have regard for religion, to be
generous and open-handed, and not only to forbear from doing anybody
an ill turn, _but not so much as to endure the thought of it_."

Now these words are the more wonderful when we remember that they were
not taken down by a scribe in the pleasant apartments of the royal
palace in Rome, but were written by the Emperor himself on the
battlefield; for this part of his famous book is signed: "Written in
the country of the Quadi."

In our last Talk on the Hands we came to the conclusion, that unless
the hands were commanded they could not act. And on inquiring as to
what gave these commands we found it was the thoughts. Many people
believe it is perfectly safe to think anything, to have even evil
thoughts in their hearts, for thoughts being hidden, they say, cannot
be seen by others. But a strange thing about thought is this: The
moment we have a thought, good or bad, it strives to get out of us and
become an action. And it most always succeeds. Not at once, perhaps,
for thoughts like seeds will often slumber a long time before they
spring into life. So it becomes very clear to us that if we wish to be
on the alert we must not watch our actions, but look within and guard
the thoughts; for they are the springs of action.