If without incommoding ourselves we can, as Professor Huxley says, repress '_all those desires which run counter to the good of mankind_,' we shall no doubt all willingly do so; only in that case little more need be said.

The '_Civitas Dei_' we are promised may be left to take care of itself, and it will doubtless very soon begin '_to rise like an exhalation_.' But if this self-repression be a matter of great difficulty, and one requiring a constant struggle on our part, it will be needful for us to intensely realise, when we abstain from any action, that the happiness it would take from others will be far greater than the happiness it would give to ourselves.

Suppose, for instance, a man were in love with his friend's wife, and had engaged on a certain night to take her to the theatre.

He would instantly give the engagement up could he know that the people in the gallery would be burnt to death if he did not.

He would certainly not give it up because by the sight of his proceedings the moral tone of the stalls might be infinitesimally lowered; still less would he do so because another wife's husband might be made infinitely jealous.