period of a lunation, and thus it is hoped future observers may be enabled to verify them at any time during that period. This if fully carried out would be a most valuable boon to persons engaged in lunar investigations, as every variation arising from the before-mentioned causes would be readily recognised; and should any actual alteration take place in any of these craters, a thing that has repeatedly been suspected, it could not fail in being immediately detected.

con

The names of the spots were first given by Riccioli, and his nomenclature is still generally followed, although with very numerous additions. The spots are distinguished by the names of eminent astronomers, philosophers, and mathematicians, both ancient and modern, as Eratosthenes, Plato, Pythagoras, Archimedes, Tycho, Copernicus, Kepler, &c. Many of these spots deserve a more particular notice. Thus Tycho, the large crater in the centre of the lower part of the cut, is remarkable, not only on account of its brilliancy and size, (being 54 miles in diameter, and in depth 16,600 feet,) but also for the radiating streaks, which proceed from it in all directions, some of which extend into the opposite hemisphere. Copernicus, a spicuous spot to the left of the cut, and about half way to the top, presents an immense crater, 56 miles in diameter, in the centre of which is a mountain having six peaks, of which two are very conspicuous. It is surrounded by a ring composed of successive terraces, ending in a narrow ridge, and rising to the height of 11,000 feet from the bottom of the crater. Aristarchus, the spot still more to the left above Copernicus, is the brightest crater in the moon; it is so brilliant as to be quite dazzling in a large telescope. It is this spot that was supposed by Sir William Herschel to be a volcano in eruption. Plato, a large dirk oval spot in the upper portion of the cut, is

ARTS AND SCI. DIV. VOL. V.

remarkable for having the bottom of the crater striped, which is also the case with Archimedes, a large oval spot at no great distance from Plato, in which seven nearly parallel stripes may be easily distinguished. Near Plato is a remarkable insulated pyramidal mountain or rock called Pico, rising from a narrow base to about 7000 feet above the surrounding plain, from which it must present a most magnificent appearance. Eratosthenes, a crater situated near a ridge of lofty mountains called the Apennines, is also a very brilliant object, aud Stadius, a neighbouring crater, is one of those to be seen only under peculiar illumination, being absolutely invisible at the time of full

moon.

The surface of the moon exhibits a very large number of mountains "almost universally of an exactly circular or cusp shaped form, foreshortened however into ellipses near the limb; but the larger have for the most part flat bottoms within, from which rises centrally a small, steep, conical hill. They offer in short, in its highest perfection, the true volcanic character, as it may be seen in the crater of Vesuvius. And in some of the principal ones, decided marks of volcanic stratification, arising from successive deposits of ejected matter, may be clearly traced with powerful telescopes. What is moreover extremely singular in the geology of the moon is, that although nothing having the character of seas can be traced (for the dusky spots which are commonly called seas, when closely examined, present appearances incompatible with the supposition of deep water) yet there are large regions perfectly level, and apparently of a decided alluvial character." (Sir J. Herschel, Astronomy,' p. 229.) The mountains are known by their shadows, which are perfectly visible, and which are long when they are near the boundary of light and darkness, or when the sun is

30

in the horizon, and disappear when they are 90° from that boundary, or when the sun is overhead. We copy from Schroeter's 'Selenotopographische Fragmente' two representations of the spot Archimedes, the first when very near the dusk part, the second when far from it.

O

By the help of these shadows, as well by other means, the heights of many of the lunar mountains have been measured, and some have been found whose heights exceed a mile and a half. From the manner in which the moon is seen, as well as from the stars, when she approaches near them, undergoing no refraction whatever, it is certain that she has either no atmosphere, or one of a degree of tenuity which must exceed, perhaps, that of the best exhausted receiver. From this it has been inferred that there are no fluids at the surface of the moon, since, if there were, an atmosphere must be formed by evaporation. It is however enough to say that the fluids, if such there be, must be very different from those which abound at the surface of the earth. Since the moon has a day (with reference to the sun) of a whole sidereal month in duration, each part is 14 days in sunlight, and 147 days without it. The intense heat and cold which must thus alternate would destroy human life, even on the supposition that terrestrial vegetation could be maintained. The fluid on the warm side (if any) must be constantly evaporating and passing off to the colder side. "The consequence must be absolute aridity below the vertical sun, constant accretion of hoar frost in the opposite region, and perhaps a narrow zone of running water at the borders of the enlightened hemisphere. It is possible, then, that evaporation on the one hand, and condensation on the other, may, to a certain extent, perserve an equilibrium of temperature, and mitigate the extreme severity of both climates." (Sir J. Herschel, Astronomy,' p. 230.) The mass of the moon, as determined from her effect upon the earth's motion, is about one-eightieth (or 01252) of that of the earth, her volume is one forty-ninth of that of the earth, and the average density of her material 615, or about six-tenths, of that of the earth. A body weighing six pounds at the earth, would weigh one pound at the moon, if tried against weights which retained their terrestrial gravity. Travelling 10 miles an hour on the surface of the moon would enable a person to keep up with the sun; so that it is not at all impossible that animal life may be maintained by constant migration, keeping always near the boundary of light and darkness.

It might be supposed that nothing could ever be known of the figure of the moon, since we can only see one side. But this very circumstance leads us to some knowledge on the point. It is impossible to believe that the moon should revolve on her axis precisely in the same average time as she revolves round the earth, without half a second of difference, and not to suppose that there is some mechanical connection between the two revolutions, so that either one is a consequence of the other, or both are consequences of some common cause. As this subject is rarely elucidated in elementary treatises, we have somewhat abridged several of those topics which are usually treated, in order to supply considerations for which we could only refer to treatises of the most mathematical character.

It is well known in mechanics that the rotation of a body is in no way affected, if we suppose its centre of gravity to be fixed instead of moveable, provided the same forces act in both cases. Thus if a stick be tossed into the air (or rather into vacuum) by an impulse communicated to a similar stick which revolves on its centre of gravity, the first in its combined rotation and translation, and the second in its rotation only, will always remain parallel to each other, if they were so at first. Let us now suppose a needle placed on a point, and magnetic, round which a ball of iron revolves from A. If the needle be

VO

P

ос

M

tending to destroy its fo: ter effect, pulling the end P towards it. It may thus be seen that if the needle were heavy enough, the ball would by its motion cause an oscillation, working to produce rotation in one direction during half its revolution, or rather more, and the opposite effect during rather more than another half revolution, in alternate quarters. But if the needle were light enough, it is easily seen that the rotation in the first direction might be produced so rapidly, that the second mode of action should never be exerted, or the revolving ball should never so far outstrip the needle that NOC should become a right angle. In this case the action would go on in one direction until the needle would acquire a rotation equal to and even exceeding that of the ball. But in the latter case, when the needle overtakes and passes the ball, the opposite action would be immediately exerted, and the acceleration of rotation would be checked. The end would be, that the needle would acquire a rotation equal to that of the ball, on the average, and would revolve so as always to present its point either to the ball, or alternately a little on one side and on the other. The same effect would be produced if the needle, at the commencement, had a rotation nearly equal to that of the ball; the consequence would be, that the action in one direction would continue long enough to establish permanent equality of the average rotations. Without supposing the moon a long needle, with one end turned towards the earth, it is found by calculation, that it is sufficient to suppose it slightly spheroidal, with the longer axis towards the earth. The same mathematical considerations which have so completely resolved the orbital motions, show that the figure of the moon must be an ellipsoid [SURFACES OF THE SECOND DEGREE] revolving round the shorter axis, and presenting the extremity of the longer axis to the earth. But the proportions of these axes have not been well determined, from want of observations: theory has outrun practice on this point. It is but comparatively lately that even the inclination of the moon's equator to the ecliptic has been determined at 1° 30′ 10′′8; that of the equator to the orbit being 5° 8' 49", as already noticed.

One more very curious phenomenon has been shown to be of the same kind as the preceding; namely, of the sort which must be made absolutely true by the earth's attraction, if it were nearly true at the beginning. The moon's equator cuts her orbit in a line which is always parallel, or very nearly so, to the mean position, for the time being, of the line of nodes of the moon's orbit. If the axis of the moon's rotation were perpendicular to the ecliptic, this must be the case, for the moon's equator and the ecliptic would then be parallel planes. And the moon's axis being nearly perpendicular to the ecliptic, it may be shown from spherical trigonometry that the two lines in question could not make an angle of many degrees. But the fact observed (by Dominic Cassini, before the theory of gravitation was thought of) is either actual parallelism, or something differing from it by very trivial oscillations. It is difficult to represent this phenomenon to a person unacquainted with geometry. It may be thus stated: the moon's orbit, the ecliptic, and the moon's equator, are three planes which form a triangular prism when produced. Or thus: if the moon were made to revolve rapidly round its axis, and if the earth were made a source of light and heat giving seasons to the moon, as the sun does to the earth, then the nodes of the moon's orbit on the ecliptic would coincide with the equinoxes, and the moon's orbit would be divided into summer and winter paths by the same line as that in which the sun's path cuts the orbit.

A great many miscellaneous phenomena connected with the moon might be collected, for which we have not space. For the light thrown on her surface when eclipsed see REFRACTION; for a remarkable appearance sometimes observed when she passes over a star see OCCULTATION; for her use in finding LONGITUDE see that word. MOON, ECLIPSE OF THE. [MOON.]

MOON, SUPERSTITIONS RESPECTING THE. Brand, in his Popular Antiquities,' gives a long list of lunar superstitions. It was formerly conceived that if hogs were killed when the moon was increasing, the bacon would prove the better in boiling. (See the Husbandman's Practice, or Prognostication for Ever, 8vo., Lond., 1664.)

Tusser, in his 'Five Hundred Points of Husbandry,' under February, says :—

"Sowe peason and beans in the wane of the moon,
Who soweth them sooner, he soweth too soon;
That they with the planet may rest and rise,
And flourish with bearing most plentiful wise."

In Decker's Match me in London,' act i., the king says, "My lord, doe you see this change i' th' moone? Sharp hornes do threaten windy weather."

admitted into the presence of a prince, he will wait till the moon is in conjunction with the sun, for 'tis then the society of an inferior with a superior is salutary and successful."

Aubrey, in his Miscellanies,' says, "At the first appearance of the new moon after New Year's Day (some say any other new moon is as good), go out in the evening and stand over the spars of a gate or stile, looking on the moon, and say-

All hail to thee, moon, all hail to thee,
I prith'ee, good moon, reveal to me

This night who my husband (wife) shall be.

You must presently after go to bed. I knew two gentlewomen that did this when they were young maids, and they had dreams of those that married them." Dr. Jamieson has quoted these words as used in Scotland, in a different form.

Tacitus, in his Manners of the Ancient Germans,' observes that they hold their meetings on certain days, either at the new or full moon; for they consider these the most favourable times for entering on any business." Brand quotes Duchesne's 'History of England,' p. 18, where, speak ing of the Irish, he says, "Quand ils voyent la nouvelle lune, ils fléchissent les genoux et récitent l'Oraison Dominicale, à la fin de laquelle ils disent à haute voix, addressant leur parolle vers elle, 'Laisse nous aussi sains que tu nous as trouvez;'" which Vallancey confirms in his 'Collectanea de Rebus Hibernicis,' No. xiii., p. 91. "The vulgar Irish at this day retain an adoration to the new moon, crossing themselves, and saying 'May thou leave us as safe as thou hast found us.'" Park observed a similar practice in the interior of Africa among the Mandingoes.

The Man in the Moon, one of the most ancient and most popular of our superstitions, is supposed to have originated in the account given in the Book of Numbers, chap. xv., v. 32, &c., of a man who was punished with death for gathering sticks on the Sabbath-day. From allusions by Dante it would seem that the Italians in his day fancied that the man in the moon was Cain with a bundle of thorns (see the Inferno' xx, 125-6; Par. ii.) Most nations have their traditions on this subject; Grimm in his Deutsche Myth,' has collected a great many.

MOOR, a name given to extensive wastes which are covered with heath, and the soil of which consists of poor light earth, mixed generally with a considerable portion of peat, The want of fertility in moors arises chiefly from a deficiency or superabundance of moisture, the subsoil being either too porous to retain it, or too impervious to allow it to escape. Both extremes occur in some moors, which are parched up in dry weather, and converted into a dark mud by any continuance of rain. A considerable portion of iron in a state of hydrate is also generally found in the soil of moors, which is very hurtful to the vegetation of plants, except heath, furze, and other coarse plants, which almost entirely cover the moors, This iron is carried down through the light surface-soil, and, if it meets with a less porous earth below, is frequently deposited in a thin layer, cementing the particles of silicious sand, which are carried down with it, and forming what is called the heath-pan or moor-band. This substance is perfectly impervious to water, and wherever it exists in a continuous state, all attempts at improvement are vain, till it is broken through or removed. The roots of trees occasionally find a passage through interstices or fractures of the pan, and then often grow luxuriantly. But wherever young trees are planted, without the precaution of breaking through the moor-band, they invariably fail, and disappoint the expecta tions of the planter, who, seeing fine large trees growing around, naturally imagined that the soil was peculiarly fitted for them. If the stump of a large tree, which has been cut down, is grubbed up, pieces of the moor-band may often be seen all around the stem, at a short depth below the surface, so arranged as to show evidently that the taproot, having found an aperture, and extending its fibres downwards into a better soil, has, in swelling, broken the pan and pushed it aside. When the moor consists of a loose peaty earth of little depth incumbent on a rock, as is the case in many mountainous countries, no art can fertilise it. In dry weather the whole surface has the appearance of a brown powder like snuff, which becomes a spongy peat as soon as it is soaked with rain. The hardiest heaths and mosses alone can bear this alternation; and where the substratum of rock is not broken into crevices through which the roots penetrate, all vegetation ceases except mosses and lichens.

In the valleys, where the waters have brought various earths mixed with decayed vegetable matter from the surrounding hills, the substance deposited is mostly peat, which is useful as fuel in proportion to the quantity of bitumen and carbon which it contains. When the peaty matter is mixed with a considerable portion of clay and sand, forming a peaty loam, and a convenient outlet can be found for the superabundant water, it is very capable of improvement, chiefly by draining, burning, and liming. [BARREN LAND.] As soon as the heath is destroyed by burning it together with a portion of the surface, and the peat-bog has acquired a certain consistency by draining, the application of lime will enable it to produce potatoes and oats, and the peaty matter will soon be converted into a rich soil, abounding in humus, and requiring only repeated cultivation to become extremely fertile. [PEAT.] Much judgment is required to know whether a con

siderable capital may be safely laid out in the improvement of moors. In some cases the return is certain and very considerable; in others the capital is entirely thrown away. Sometimes extensive moors have been converted into flourishing farms of arable and grass land, as in many parts of Scotland and the north of England; sometimes they have been most advantageously planted with forest-trees, and, where there is a great extent of waste and a scanty population, this is generally the most certain mode of improving a property, although the return is slow and distant.

A prudent proprietor, before he begins expensive improvements, will do well to have his wastes carefully examined. The soil and subsoil, and the situation of the springs, should be carefully ascertained by boring in different places to the depth of five or six feet. It will thus appear whether any portion can be readily converted into arable land, or improved as pasture, or whether plantations of trees may be safely made. The division of the waste into fields by deep ditches will often be sufficient to lay them dry; if not, recourse must be had to draining. In the humid climate of Great Britain and Ireland, the water which falls in rains in the winter half of the year is always more than is necessary for healthy vegetation, and ditches are generally indispensable to keep the surface dry. The convenience of enclosures for pasturing cattle and sheep to advantage, added to this, has made the division of wastes by ditches and banks an invariable preliminary to cultivation. Expensive draining may not always be expedient, where the soil is naturally poor; but wherever there is sufficient loam, either immediately under the peat or mixed with it, and lime can be obtained at a moderate cost, the soil may always be brought into cultivation, and will fully repay any judicious outlay of capital.

In many situations on the slopes of hills, or in the valleys, good earth may be found at a moderate depth, which, being carted on the moor, will materially improve the surface. It should be carted out in the beginning of winter, and spread over the surface an inch or two deep. It should be left so a considerable time, especially if there is any appearance of ochre or iron in the earth. The exposure to the air and rain will convert the hydrate or carbonate of iron into an oxide, and thus render it innoxious. The earth also will absorb fertilising portions of the atmosphere, and be much improved. It may then be ploughed in with a shallow furrow, and incorporated with the natural soil by harrowing. A small quantity of lime and manure will bring this mixture into a productive state.

There are many moors which, although incapable of profitable improvement as arable land, may, at a comparatively small expense, be much improved as pasture for sheep and cattle. The principal means of effecting this are, judicious draining by ditches, and enclosing the fields with banks or stone walls, both as shelter for the stock and for convenience of feeding. The heath may be burnt and the ashes spread about, and the surface having been scarified to the depth of a few inches, some grass-seeds suited to the soil and climate may be sown. The surface will soon show a manifest change by the increase of green patches, and a subsequent liming will complete the improvement. When the health of the stock, as well as the increase of food, is taken into the account, it will be found that such an improvement of moorland soon repays the outlay.

When the surface of the ground is very uneven with protruding rocks, interspersed with large stones, the only improvement which can be undertaken is to plant trees, chiefly of the fir or pine tribe, which will grow well if put in judiciously. The plants should be of the last year only, and the ground where they are to be planted should be well examined to find out whether there is a moor-band or rock below. The first must be broken through, which may be done by trenching or by means of heavy-pointed iron bars thrust into the ground with considerable force, wherever a plant is put in. If there is a rock below with six inches of earth over it, provided it be not of a very compact and solid nature, the fir-trees will grow rapidly, and the roots will find crevices to strike into. A plantation should begin in a sheltered spot, and it may be enlarged every year towards the more exposed side. Thus even the highest and bleakest hills may in time be covered with wood, and, if properly managed, cannot fail to be profitable. [PLANTATIONS.]

Moss-land is often confounded with moor; but is very distinct in its nature. Moss-land is produced by the accumulation of aquatic plants, and its origin is chiefly vegetable. When it has a considerable depth, and its substance has lost all power of vegetation, it forms peat-bogs of more or less consistency, as the water is drained off or retained in its pores. In the latter case it appears like a spongy vegetable mass, consisting almost entirely of fibres, so interwoven as to form a very light substance, in which water is easily retained, which keeps up a kind of internal vegetation, by which the quantity of the moss is gradually increased. This is the substance which covers the surface of bogs, and where it is of some consistence it allows a passage over them [BoG]; but where it is very thin and loose it deceives the eye by an appearance of solidity, like that of a smooth green pasture, which, however, gives way to the pressure of the foot, and allows it to sink through it with very little resistance. The only way to improve moss is to drain it, and then convert the vegetable matter of which it is composed into soil, by means of lime and pressure. The latter is effected by putting on a considerable quantity of earth, especially sand and gravel, which, incorporating with the moss, consolidates it, and

single separate duties, or (in other words) to state in detail all that a man ought or ought not to do under all possible varieties of circumstances. This can hardly be expected, or at any rate is seldom professed, and never accomplished, in treatises expressly devoted to the subject. The most at all events that can be done here is to name, with the addition of some brief general explanation, the chief general classes of duties. The adaptation of these general duties to particular cases is often obvious. In some cases, which will be specially noticed, the carrying out into minute detail of general rules of duty opens new and large departments of inquiry, which may be considered either as constituting separate sciences, or as belonging to other sciences rather

than to morals.

In thus taking refuge in a general classification of duties, we shall have to furnish the reader with a list of dispositions which it is the duty of man respectively to cultivate and not to cultivate. A disposition is a tendency in a man to act (under which word is comprehended thinking, feeling, speaking, and doing) generally in a certain way. The names for the different dispositions thus come to embrace general classes of actions. For instance, the disposition called benevolence leads to innumerable actions which, under innumerably different circumstances, it is man's duty to perform; and the name therefore stands as a general name for all these actions. To name singly and separately all these actions would perhaps not be practicable, and is certainly not desirable. Certain sub-classes of them may be named, in explaining the beneficial tendency of the general disposition, or (in other words) the reasons why it is man's duty to cultivate this disposition. This last explanation will necessarily comprehend a general view of the advantages of the different actions which the disposition tends to produce.

There are many different principles of classification on which the enumeration of duties may proceed. It is perhaps not too much to say that all duties may be deduced, with a greater or less exercise of ingenuity, as corollaries from any one which has been previously established. Thus Wollaston, in his 'Religion of Nature,' deduces all man's duties from the duty of truth. Hobbes again, in his 'De Cive,' derives all morality from the duty of preserving peace. It is clear that the mode to be adopted of treating the subject, or, in other words, the mode of classifying our enumeration of duties, is a matter entirely of convenience; and, merely as a matter of convenience, we shall adopt the division of duties which has been partly acted upon by Dr. Paley, and which is perhaps the division most generally resorted to by writers on morals. We shall treat of a man's duties, first, as they regard himself individually, and, secondly, as they regard others. It is necessary to remark, in order to prevent misapprehension, that one duty is a duty towards oneself, and another duty is a duty towards others, not on account of its tending respectively to produce happiness only to oneself or only to others, but simply from the accidental circumstance of oneself in the one case and others in the other being, as it were, the outward object of the action or disposition which constitutes the duty. "Those acts of ours," to quote from Mr. James Mill," which are primarily useful to ourselves, are secondarily useful to others; and those which are primarily useful to others are secondarily useful to ourselves." (Analysis of the Human Mind,' vol. ii., p. 234.) Much of the good resulting from the performance of what we call duties towards ourselves consists in our being thereby better enabled to do good to others; and together with the happiness conferred on others by the performance of our duties towards them, is the happiness caused to ourselves by the gratification of our feelings of sympathy and of duty, and the additional security that is gained for the good-will of others towards ourselves.

I. A man's duty to himself consists generally in the preservation of the life with which his Creator has endowed him, and in the improvement, to the greatest degree in his power, of the faculties which he possesses.

The first part of this duty is altogether negative. A man must abstain from wantonly exposing himself to danger, or, in other words, he must be prudent, and he must refrain from suicide. For when man learns that God has adapted his created world to the production of general happiness, he learns at the same time that life has been given for that purpose; and in foolishly risking or in laying violent hands upon his own life, he tends so far to mar God's object. He throws away his own means of attaining happiness in the way in which God has willed that he should attain it, and he destroys also his means of promoting the happiness of others.

As regards the second part of a man's duty towards himself, consisting in the improvement of his faculties, or, as we may otherwise express it, of his intellectual and moral being, this is partly positive and partly negative. It is a man's duty to improve himself, so far as he can, by study and by cultivating good dispositions; the full explanation of the best mode of doing which belongs properly to the subject of education. It is his duty also not to deteriorate his character by sensual excesses. The vices which he has thus to guard against are principally two, lust and intemperance; the latter of which divides itself into drunkenness and gluttony. The names of the two virtues opposite to the two vices of lust and intemperance are chastity and temperance. The cultivation of these two virtues, or the abstinence from the two corresponding vices, is recommended not only by the

good accruing to the individual, but also by the extent to which he is thereby saved from inflicting injury on others.

II. In considering a man's duties towards others, we would adopt the subdivision of duties towards men generally as men, and duties towards men as members of the same society. These last duties will be again subdivided into duties towards members of the same political society or state, and duties towards members of the same family. 1. The duties towards inen generally as men, or towards mankind, may be comprehended under the general names of benevolence or kindness, courage, sincerity, and humility.

In benevolence or kindness are included sympathy, or a general disposition to assist our fellow-men; pity, or kindness towards those in distress, and towards inferiors; generosity or liberality, which, being the disposition to make our own means serviceable to others, turns pity to good account; gratitude; and charity, in the sense in which it is used by St. Paul, or the disposition to judge kindly of others' conduct. The vices opposed to sympathy, pity, generosity, gratitude, and charity, are selfishness, hardheartedness or cruelty, avarice, in,ratitude, and malevolence or uncharitableness. Slander is one principal form in which the last-mentioned evil disposition displays itself. The cultivation of the virtues comprehended under the name benevolence, and the avoidance of the opposite vices, have an obvious and immediate bearing on the happiness of others. At the same time it is not to be forgotten that happiness accrues to the benevolent man himself from the gratification of his natural feelings of sympathy, and that by doing good to others he disposes others to do good to him.

Courage is valuable, as tending to give effect to our benevolence. It must not exist in such excess as to lead a man to adventure a great risk for a disproportionately small object, and must therefore be governed by prudence. Mr. Mill indeed has treated of courage as a particular form of prudence, a mode of treating of it which we cannot think proper. There is an obvious difference, which Mr. Mill seems strangely to have lost sight of, between courage being governed by prudence, as it unquestionably ought to be, and courage being only a particular form of prudence.

Sincerity comprehends truth in words and honesty or justice in conduct. The manner in which the practice of these virtues, or the abstinence from the opposite vices of lying and cheating, is recommended by general utility, is obvious. Without the general observance of truth and honesty, men would have no confidence in one another, and there would be no safety. The proverb, that "honesty is the best policy," pithily expresses the bearing of this virtue on one's own good. Kant, in his Metaphysic of Ethics' (Metaphysik der Sitten), classes the virtue of sincerity among the duties owed by a man to himself. A lie is the abandonment and, as it were, the annihilation of the dignity of

a man."

It remains to speak of humility. This is perhaps not so decidedly a virtue as its opposite, pride, is a vice. The evil of this vice consists in its tendency to hurt the feelings of others, and to diminish our disposition to do good. Tolerance of others' opinions, and reverence towards superiors in intellectual and moral worth, are forms of humility; and these are dispositions which, when they exist, are fruitful of much good both for oneself and for others.

2. The duties towards men as members of the same political society or state, resolve themselves into the general dispositions of patriotism and obedience. The first is a virtue, the value of which has been often greatly overrated, and which is very apt to degenerate into the failing called nationality. But nevertheless it is a virtue. As the general happiness is best pursued by each individual making his own happiness his own chief object, and again by each body of individuals making the pursuit of their own separate interests their chief object, patriotism properly tempered, or the desire to benefit one's own country so long as this is not done in such manner as to injure other countries, is one valuable means of promoting the general happiness of mankind. Of obedience to those who are invested with authority in a state, and to the laws, it belongs to morals to speak only in the most general manner. The filling up of the detail belongs to political science. This science having determined what laws ought to be enacted, on the ground of conduciveness to general happiness, morals enjoins obedience to them, without reference to their individual goodness, but for the sake of maintaining political society generally, and of preserving to men all the advantages which political society yields.

3. The duties towards others who are members of the same family consist altogether in affection, which manifests itself differently according to the different family relations. Thus we speak of conjugal affection, paternal and maternal affection, filial affection, and fraternal affection. Conjugal affection implies fidelity. The proper exercise of the paternal and maternal affection opens a wide field of discussion; but it may be said generally to show itself best in the proper education of the children. Into filial affection gratitude and reverence largely enter. Fraternal affection differs from friendship only in the peculiar relation under which the feeling exists.

Thus have we given a brief general summary of man's duties. We have said nothing of duties towards God, which are generally made to form a separate division in treatises on morals, because we conceive that these duties, so far as they depend on God's special commands, and thus differ from the duties which we have enumerated, and which we come to know by observing their tendency to promote general