obeyed, no matter who may stand in the way and suffer disaster by it? That man ruined his family to please and content his Interior Monarch—

Y. M. And help Christ's cause.

O. M. Yes-secondly. Not firstly. He thought it was firstly.

Y. M. Very well, have it so, if you will. But it could be that he argued that if he saved a hundred souls in New York

O. M. The sacrifice of the family would be justified by that great profit upon the-the-what shall we call it?

Y. M. Investment?

O. M. Hardly. How would speculation do? How would gamble do? Not a solitary soul-capture was Sure. He played for a possible thirty-three-hundredper-cent. profit. It was gambling with his family for "chips." However, let us see how the game came out. Maybe we can get on the track of the secret original impulse, the real impulse, that moved him to so nobly self-sacrifice his family in the Saviour's cause under the superstition that he was sacrificing himself. I will read a chapter or so. Here we have it! It was bound to expose itself sooner or later. He preached to the East-Side rabble a season, then went back to his old dull, obscure life in the lumber-camps "hurt to the heart, his pride humbled." Why? Were not his efforts acceptable to the Saviour, for Whom alone they were made? Dear me, that detail is lost sight of, is not even referred to, the fact that it started out as a motive is entirely forgotten! Then what is the trouble? The authoress

quite innocently and unconsciously gives the whole business away. The trouble was this: this man merely preached to the poor; that is not the University Settlement's way; it deals in larger and better things than that, and it did not enthuse over that crude Salvation-Army eloquence. It was courteous to Holme-but cool. It did not pet him, did not take him to its bosom. "Perished were all his dreams of distinction, the praise and grateful approval of—" Of whom? The Saviour? No; the Saviour is not mentioned. Of whom, then? Of "his fellow-workers." Why did he want that? Because the Master inside of him wanted it, and would not be content without it. That emphasized sentence quoted above, reveals the secret we have been seeking, the original impulse, the real impulse, which moved the obscure and unappreciated Adirondack lumberman to sacrifice his family and go on that crusade to the East Side-which said original impulse was this, to wit: without knowing it he went there to show a neglected world the large talent that was in him, and rise to distinction. As I have warned you before, no act springs from any but the one law, the one motive. But I pray you, do not accept this law upon my say-so; but diligently examine for yourself. Whenever you read of a self-sacrificing act or hear of one, or of a duty done for duty's sake, take it to pieces and look for the real motive. It is always there.

Y. M. I do it every day. I cannot help it, now that I have gotten started upon the degrading and exasperating quest. For it is hatefully interesting!— in fact, fascinating is the word. As soon as I come

across a golden deed in a book I have to stop and take it apart and examine it, I cannot help myself.

O. M. Have you ever found one that defeated the rule?

Y. M. No at least, not yet. But take the case of servant-tipping in Europe. You pay the hotel for service; you owe the servants nothing, yet you pay them besides. Doesn't that defeat it?

O. M. In what way?

Y. M. You are not obliged to do it, therefore its source is compassion for their ill-paid condition, and

O. M. Has that custom ever vexed you, annoyed you, irritated you?

Y. M. Well-yes.

O. M. Still you succumbed to it?

Y. M. Of course.

O. M. Why of course?

Y. M. Well, custom is law, in a way, and laws must be submitted to everybody recognizes it as a duty.

O. M. Then you pay the irritating tax for duty's sake?

Y. M. I suppose it amounts to that.

O. M. Then the impulse which moves you to submit to the tax is not all compassion, charity, benevolence?

Y. M. Well-perhaps not.

O. M. Is any of it?

Y. M. I—perhaps I was too hasty in locating its

source.

O. M. Perhaps so. In case you ignored the cus

tom would you get prompt and effective service from the servants?

Y. M. Oh, hear yourself talk! Those European servants? Why, you wouldn't get any at all, to speak of.

O. M. Couldn't that work as an impulse to move you to pay the tax?

Y. M. I am not denying it.

O. M. Apparently, then, it is a case of for-duty'ssake with a little self-interest added?

Y. M. Yes, it has the look of it. But here is a point: we pay that tax knowing it to be unjust and an extortion; yet we go away with a pain at the heart if we think we have been stingy with the poor fellows; and we heartily wish we were back again, so that we could do the right thing, and more than the right thing, the generous thing. I think it will be difficult for you to find any thought of self in that impulse.

When

O. M. I wonder why you should think so. you find service charged in the hotel bill does it annoy you?

Y. M. No.

O. M. Do you ever complain of the amount of it? Y. M. No, it would not occur to me.

O. M. The expense, then, is not the annoying detail. It is a fixed charge, and you pay it cheerfully, you pay it without a murmur. When you came to pay the servants, how would you like it if each of the men and maids had a fixed charge?

Y. M. Like it? I should rejoice!

O. M. Even if the fixed tax were a shade more

than you had been in the habit of paying in the form of tips?

Y. M. Indeed, yes!

O. M. Very well, then. As I understand it, it isn't really compassion nor yet duty that moves you to pay the tax, and it isn't the amount of the tax that annoys you. Yet something annoys you. What is it?

Y. M. Well, the trouble is, you never know what to pay, the tax varies so, all over Europe.

O. M. So you have to guess?

Y. M. There is no other way. So you go on thinking and thinking, and calculating and guessing, and consulting with other people and getting their views; and it spoils your sleep nights, and makes you distraught in the daytime, and while you are pretending to look at the sights you are only guessing and guessing and guessing all the time, and being worried and miserable.

O. M. And all about a debt which you don't owe and don't have to pay unless you want to! Strange. What is the purpose of the guessing?

Y. M. To guess out what is right to give them, and not be unfair to any of them.

O. M. It has quite a noble look-taking so much pains and using up so much valuable time in order to be just and fair to a poor servant to whom you owe nothing, but who needs money and is ill paid.

Y. M. I think, myself, that if there is any ungracious motive back of it it will be hard to find.

O. M. How do you know when you have not paid a servant fairly?