The fundamental fact in all ranges of life from the lowest to the highest is activity, doing. Every individual, either animal or man, is constantly meeting situations which demand response. In the lower forms of life, this response is very simple, while in the higher forms, and especially in man, it is very complex. The bird sees a nook favorable for a nest, and at once appropriates it; a man sees a house that strikes his fancy, and works and plans and saves for months to secure money with which to buy it. It is evident that the larger the possible number of responses, and the greater their diversity and complexity, the more difficult it will be to select and compel the right response to any given situation. Man therefore needs some special power of control over his acts—he requires a will.

1. THE NATURE OF THE WILL

There has been much discussion and not a little controversy as to the true nature of the will. Just what is the will, and what is the content of our mental stream when we are in the act of willing? Is there at such times a new and distinctly different content which we do not find in our processes of knowledge or emotion—such as perception, memory, judgment, interest, desire? Or do we find, when we are engaged in an act of the will, that the mental stream contains only the familiar old elements of attention, perception, judgment, desire, purpose, etc., all organized or set for the purpose of accomplishing or preventing some act?

The Content of the Will.—We shall not attempt here to settle the controversy suggested by the foregoing questions, nor, for immediately practical purposes, do we need to settle it. It is perhaps safe to say, however, that whenever we are willing the mental content consists of elements of cognition and feeling plus a distinct sense of effort, with which everyone is familiar. Whether this sense of effort is a new and different element, or only a complex of old and familiar mental processes, we need not now decide.

The Function of the Will.—Concerning the function of the will there can be no haziness or doubt. Volition concerns itself wholly with acts, responses. The will always has to do with causing or inhibiting some action, either physical or mental. We need to go to the dentist, tell some friend we were in the wrong, hold our mind to a difficult or uninteresting task, or do some other disagreeable thing from which we shirk. It is at such points that we must call upon the will.

Again, we must restrain our tongue from speaking the unkind word, keep from crying out when the dentist drills the tooth, check some unworthy line of thought. We must here also appeal to the will. We may conclude then that the will is needed whenever the physical or mental activity must be controlled with effort. Some writers have called the work of the will in compelling action its positive function, and in inhibiting action its negative function.

How the Will Exerts Its Compulsion.—How does the will bring its compulsion to bear? It is not a kind of mental policeman who can take us by the collar, so to speak, and say do this, or do not do that. The secret of the will's power of control lies in attention. It is the line of action that we hold the mind upon with an attitude of intending to perform it that we finally follow. It is the thing we keep thinking about that we finally do.

On the other hand, let us resolutely hold the mind away from some attractive but unsuitable line of action, directing our thoughts to an opposite course, or to some wholly different subject, and we have effectually blocked the wrong response. To control our acts is therefore to control our thoughts, and strength of will can be measured by our ability to direct our attention.

2. THE EXTENT OF VOLUNTARY CONTROL OVER OUR ACTS

A relatively small proportion of our acts, or responses, are controlled by volition. Nature, in her wise economy, has provided a simpler and easier method than to have all our actions performed or checked with conscious effort.

Classes of Acts or Response.—Movements or acts, like other phenomena, do not just happen. They never occur without a cause back of them. Whether they are performed with a conscious end in view or without it, the fact remains the same—something must lie back of the act to account for its performance. During the last hour, each of us has performed many simple movements and more or less complex acts. These acts have varied greatly in character. Of many we were wholly unconscious. Others were consciously performed, but without feeling of effort on our part. Still others were accomplished only with effort, and after a struggle to decide which of two lines of action we should take. Some of our acts were reflex, some were chiefly instinctive, and some were volitional.

Simple Reflex Acts.—First, there are going on within every living organism countless movements of which he is in large part unconscious, which he does nothing to initiate, and which he is largely powerless to prevent. Some of them are wholly, and others almost, out of the reach and power of his will. Such are the movements of the heart and vascular system, the action of the lungs in breathing, the movements of the digestive tract, the work of the various glands in their process of secretion. The entire organism is a mass of living matter, and just because it is living no part of it is at rest.

Movements of this type require no external stimulus and no direction, they are reflex; they take care of themselves, as long as the body is in health, without let or hindrance, continuing whether we sleep or wake, even if we are in hypnotic or anÆsthetic coma. With movements of reflex type we shall have no more concern, since they are almost wholly physiological, and come scarcely at all within the range of the consciousness.

Instinctive Acts.—Next there are a large number of such acts as closing the eyes when they are threatened, starting back from danger, crying out from pain or alarm, frowning and striking when angry. These may roughly be classed as instinctive, and have already been discussed under that head. They differ from the former class in that they require some stimulus to set the act off. We are fully conscious of their performance, although they are performed without a conscious end in view. Winking the eyes serves an important purpose, but that is not why we wink; starting back from danger is a wise thing to do, but we do not stop to consider this before performing the act.

And so it is with a multitude of reflex and instinctive acts. They are performed immediately upon receiving an appropriate stimulus, because we possess an organism calculated to act in a definite way in response to certain stimuli. There is no need for, and indeed no place for, anything to come in between the stimulus and the act. The stimulus pulls the trigger of the ready-set nervous system, and the act follows at once. Acts of these reflex and instinctive types do not come properly within the range of volition, hence we will not consider them further.

Automatic or Spontaneous Acts.—Growing out of these reflex and instinctive acts is a broad field of action which may be called automatic or spontaneous. The distinguishing feature of this type of action is that all such acts, though performed now largely without conscious purpose or intent, were at one time purposed acts, performed with effort; this is to say that they were volitional. Such acts as writing, or fingering the keyboard of a piano, were once consciously purposed, volitional acts selected from many random or reflex movements.

The effects of experience and habit are such, however, that soon the mere presence of pencil and paper, or the sight of the keyboard, is enough to set one scribbling or playing. Stated differently, certain objects and situations come to suggest certain characteristic acts or responses so strongly that the action follows immediately on the heels of the percept of the object, or the idea of the act. James calls such action ideo-motor. Many illustrations of this type of acts will occur to each of us: A door starts to blow shut, and we spring up and avert the slam. The memory of a neglected engagement comes to us, and we have started to our feet on the instant. A dish of nuts stands before us, and we find ourselves nibbling without intending to do so.

The Cycle from Volitional to Automatic.—It is of course evident that no such acts, though they were at one time in our experience volitional, now require effort or definite intention for their performance. The law covering this point may be stated as follows: All volitional acts, when repeated, tend, through the effects of habit, to become automatic, and thus relieve the will from the necessity of directing them.

To illustrate this law try the following experiment: Draw on a piece of cardboard a star, like figure 19, making each line segment two inches. Seat yourself at a table with the star before you, placing a mirror back of the star so that it can be seen in the mirror. Have someone hold a screen a few inches above the table so as to hide the star from your direct view, but so that you can see it in the mirror. Now reach your hand under the screen and trace with a pencil around the star from left to right, not taking your pencil off the paper until you get clear around. Keep track of how long it takes to go around and also note the irregular wanderings of your pencil. Try this experiment five times over, noting the decrease in time and effort required, and the increase in efficiency as the movements tend to become automatic.

Volitional Action.—While it is obvious that the various types of action already described include a very large proportion of all our acts, yet they do not include all. For there are some acts that are neither reflex nor instinctive nor automatic, but that have to be performed under the stress of compulsion and effort. We constantly meet situations where the necessity for action or restraint runs counter to our inclinations. We daily are confronted by the necessity of making decisions in which the mind must be compelled by effort to take this direction or that direction. Conflicting motives or tendencies create frequent necessity for coercion. It is often necessary to drive our bark counter to the current of our desires or our habits, or to enter into conflict with a temptation.

Volition Acts in the Making of Decisions.—Everyone knows for himself the state of inward unrest which we call indecision. A thought enters the mind which would of itself prompt an act; but before the act can occur, a contrary idea appears and the act is checked; another thought comes favoring the act, and is in turn counterbalanced by an opposing one. The impelling and inhibiting ideas we call motives or reasons for and against the proposed act. While we are balancing the motives against each other, we are said to deliberate. This process of deliberation must go on, if we continue to think about the matter at all, until one set of ideas has triumphed over the other and secured the attention. When this has occurred, we have decided, and the deliberation is at an end. We have exercised the highest function of the will and made a choice.

Sometimes the battle of motives is short, the decision being reached as soon as there is time to summon all the reasons on both sides of the question. At other times the conflict may go on at intervals for days or weeks, neither set of motives being strong enough to vanquish the other and dictate the decision. When the motives are somewhat evenly balanced we wisely pause in making a decision, because when one line of action is taken, the other cannot be, and we hesitate to lose either opportunity. A state of indecision is usually highly unpleasant, and no doubt more than one decision has been hastened in our lives simply that we might be done with the unpleasantness attendant on the consideration of two contrary and insistent sets of motives.

It is of the highest importance when making a decision of any consequence that we should be fair in considering all the reasons on both sides of the question, allowing each its just weight. Nor is this as easy as it might appear; for, as we saw in our study of the emotions, our feeling attitude toward any object that occupies the mind is largely responsible for the subjective value we place upon it. It is easy to be so prejudiced toward or against a line of action that the motives bearing upon it cannot get fair consideration. To be able to eliminate this personal factor to such an extent that the evidence before us on a question may be considered on its merits is a rare accomplishment.

Types of Decision.—A decision may be reached in a variety of ways, the most important ones of which may now briefly be described after the general plan suggested by Professor James:

The Reasonable Type.—One of the simplest types of decision is that in which the preponderance of motives is clearly seen to be on one side or the other, and the only rational thing to do is to decide in accordance with the weight of evidence. Decisions of this type are called reasonable. If we discover ten reasons why we should pursue a certain course of action, and only one or two reasons of equal weight why we should not, then the decision ought not to be hard to make. The points to watch in this case are (a) that we have really discovered all the important reasons on both sides of the case, and (b) that our feelings of personal interest or prejudice have not given some of the motives an undue weight in our scale of values.

Accidental type: External Motives.—It is to be doubted whether as many of our decisions are made under immediate stress of volition as we think. We may be hesitating between two sets of motives, unable to decide between them, when a third factor enters which is not really related to the question at all, but which finally dictates the decision nevertheless. For example, we are considering the question whether we shall go on an excursion or stay at home and complete a piece of work. The benefits coming from the recreation, and the pleasures of the trip, are pitted against the expense which must be incurred and the desirability of having the work done on time. At this point, while as yet we have been unable to decide, a friend comes along, and we seek to evade the responsibility of making our own decision by appealing to him, "You tell me what to do!" How few of us have never said in effect if not in words, "I will do this or that if you will"! How few have never taken advantage of a rainy day to stay from church or shirk an undesirable engagement! How few have not allowed important questions to be decided by some trivial or accidental factor not really related to the choice in the least!

This form of decision is accidental decision. It does not rest on motives which are vitally related to the case, but rather on the accident of external circumstances. The person who habitually makes his decisions in this way lacks power of will. He does not hold himself to the question until he has gathered the evidence before him, and then himself direct his attention to the best line of action and so secure its performance. He drifts with the tide, he goes with the crowd, he shirks responsibility.

Accidental Type: Subjective Motives.—A second type of accidental decision may occur when we are hesitating between two lines of action which are seemingly about equally desirable, and no preponderating motive enters the field; when no external factor appears, and no advising friend comes to the rescue. Then, with the necessity for deciding thrust upon us, we tire of the worry and strain of deliberation and say to ourselves, "This thing must be settled one way or the other pretty soon; I am tired of the whole matter." When we have reached this point we are likely to shut our eyes to the evidence in the case, and decide largely upon the whim or mood of the moment. Very likely we regret our decision the next instant, but without any more cause for the regret than we had for the decision.

It is evident that such a decision as this does not rest on valid motives but rather on the accident of subjective conditions. Habitual decisions of this type are an evidence of a mental laziness or a mental incompetence which renders the individual incapable of marshaling the facts bearing on a case. He cannot hold them before his mind and weigh them against each other until one side outweighs the other and dictates the decision. Of course the remedy for this weakness of decision lies in not allowing oneself to be pushed into a decision simply to escape the unpleasantness of a state of indecision, or the necessity of searching for further evidence which will make the decision easier.

On the other hand, it is possible to form a habit of indecision, of undue hesitancy in coming to conclusions when the evidence is all before us. This gives us the mental dawdler, the person who will spend several minutes in an agony of indecision over whether to carry an umbrella on this particular trip; whether to wear black shoes or tan shoes today; whether to go calling or to stay at home and write letters this afternoon. Such a person is usually in a stew over some inconsequential matter, and consumes so much time and energy in fussing over trivial things that he is incapable of handling larger ones. If we are certain that we have all the facts in a given case before us, and have given each its due weight so far as our judgment will enable us to do, then there is nothing to be gained by delaying the decision. Nor is there any occasion to change the decision after it has once been made unless new evidence is discovered bearing on the case.

Decision Under Effort.—The highest type of decision is that in which effort is the determining factor. The pressure of external circumstances and inward impulse is not enough to overcome a calm and determined I will. Two possible lines of action may lie open before us. Every current of our being leads toward the one; in addition, inclination, friends, honors, all beckon in the same direction. From the other course our very nature shrinks; duty alone bids us take this line, and promises no rewards except the approval of conscience. Here is the crucial point in human experience; the supreme test of the individual; the last measure of man's independence and power. Winning at this point man has exercised his highest prerogative—that of independent choice; failing here, he reverts toward the lower forms and is a creature of circumstance, no longer the master of his own destiny, but blown about by the winds of chance. And it behooves us to win in this battle. We may lose in a contest or a game and yet not fail, because we have done our best; if we fail in the conflict of motives we have planted a seed of weakness from which we shall at last harvest defeat.

Jean Valjean, the galley slave of almost a score of years, escapes and lives an honest life. He wins the respect and admiration of friends; he is elected mayor of his town, and honors are heaped on him. At the height of his prosperity he reads one day that a man has been arrested in another town for the escaped convict, Jean Valjean, and is about to be sent to the galleys. Now comes the supreme test in Jean Valjean's life. Shall he remain the honored, respected citizen and let an innocent man suffer in his stead, or shall he proclaim himself the long-sought criminal and again have the collar riveted on his neck and take his place at the oars? He spends one awful night of conflict in which contending motives make a battle ground of his soul. But in the morning he has won. He has saved his manhood. His conscience yet lives—and he goes and gives himself up to the officers. Nor could he do otherwise and still remain a man.

3. STRONG AND WEAK WILLS

Many persons will admit that their memory or imagination or power of perception is not good, but few will confess to a weak will. Strength of will is everywhere lauded as a mark of worth and character. How can we tell whether our will is strong or weak?

Not a Will, But Wills.—First of all we need to remember that, just as we do not have a memory, but a system of memories, so we do not possess a will, but many different wills. By this I mean that the will must be called upon and tested at every point of contact in experience before we have fully measured its strength. Our will may have served us reasonably well so far, but we may not yet have met any great number of hard tests because our experience and temptations have been limited.

Nor must we forget to take into account both the negative and the positive functions of the will. Many there are who think of the will chiefly in its negative use, as a kind of a check or barrier to save us from doing certain things. That this is an important function cannot be denied. But the positive is the higher function. There are many men and women who are able to resist evil, but able to do little good. They are good enough, but not good for much. They lack the power of effort and self-compulsion to hold them up to the high standards and stern endeavor necessary to save them from inferiority or mediocrity. It is almost certain that for most who read these words the greatest test of their will power will be in the positive instead of the negative direction.

Objective Tests a False Measure of Will Power.—The actual amount of volition exercised in making a decision cannot be measured by objective results. The fact that you follow the pathway of duty, while I falter and finally drift into the byways of pleasure, is not certain evidence that you have put forth the greater power of will. In the first place, the allurements which led me astray may have had no charms for you. Furthermore, you may have so formed the habit of pursuing the pathway of duty when the two paths opened before you, that your well-trained feet unerringly led you into the narrow way without a struggle. Of course you are on safer ground than I, and on ground that we should all seek to attain. But, nevertheless, I, although I fell when I should have stood, may have been fighting a battle and manifesting a power of resistance of which you, under similar temptation, would have been incapable. The only point from which a conflict of motives can be safely judged is that of the soul which is engaged in the struggle.

4. VOLITIONAL TYPES

Several fairly well-marked volitional types may be discovered. It is, of course, to be understood that these types all grade by insensible degrees into each other, and that extreme types are the exception rather than the rule.

The Impulsive Type.—The impulsive type of will goes along with a nervous organism of the hair-trigger kind. The brain is in a state of highly unstable equilibrium, and a relatively slight current serves to set off the motor centers. Action follows before there is time for a counteracting current to intervene. Putting it in mental terms, we act on an idea which presents itself before an opposing one has opportunity to enter the mind. Hence the action is largely or wholly ideo-motor and but slightly or not at all deliberate. It is this type of will which results in the hasty word or deed, or the rash act committed on the impulse of the moment and repented of at leisure; which compels the frequent, "I didn't think, or I would not have done it!" The impulsive person may undoubtedly have credited up to him many kind words and noble deeds. In addition, he usually carries with him an air of spontaneity and whole-heartedness which goes far to atone for his faults. The fact remains, however, that he is too little the master of his acts, that he is guided too largely by external circumstances or inward caprice. He lacks balance.

Impulsive action is not to be confused with quick decision and rapid action. Many of the world's greatest and safest leaders have been noted for quickness of decision and for rapidity of action in carrying out their decisions. It must be remembered, however, that these men were making decisions in fields well known to them. They were specialists in this line of deliberation. The motives for and against certain lines of action had often been dwelt upon. All possible contingencies had been imaged many times over, and a valuation placed upon the different decisions. The various concepts had long been associated with certain definite lines of action. Deliberation under such conditions can be carried on with lightning rapidity, each motive being checked off as worth so much the instant it presents itself, and action can follow immediately when attention settles on the proper motive to govern the decision. This is not impulse, but abbreviated deliberation. These facts suggest to us that we should think much and carefully over matters in which we are required to make quick decisions.

Of course the remedy for the over-impulsive type is to cultivate deliberative action. When the impulse comes to act without consideration, pause to give the other side of the question an opportunity to be heard. Check the motor response to ideas that suggest action until you have reviewed the field to see whether there are contrary reasons to be taken into account. Form the habit of waiting for all evidence before deciding. "Think twice" before you act.

The Obstructed Will.—The opposite of the impulsive type of will is the obstructed or balky will. In this type there is too much inhibition, or else not enough impulsion. Images which should result in action are checkmated by opposing images, or do not possess vitality enough as motives to overcome the dead weight of inertia which clogs mental action. The person knows well enough what he should do, but he cannot get started. He "cannot get the consent of his will." It may be the student whose mind is tormented by thoughts of coming failure in recitation or examination, but who yet cannot force himself to the exertion necessary safely to meet the ordeal. It may be the dissolute man who tortures himself in his sober moments with remorse and the thought that he was intended for better things, but who, waking from his meditations, goes on in the same old way. It may be the child undergoing punishment, who is to be released from bondage as soon as he will promise to be good, but who cannot bring himself to say the necessary words. It not only may be, but is, man or woman anywhere who has ideals which are known to be worthy and noble, but which fail to take hold. It is anyone who is following a course of action which he knows is beneath him.

No one can doubt that the moral tragedies, the failures and the shipwrecks in life come far more from the breaking of the bonds which should bind right ideals to action than from a failure to perceive the truth. Men differ far more in their deeds than in their standards of action.

The remedy for this diseased type of will is much easier to prescribe than to apply. It is simply to refuse to attend to the contrary thoughts which are blocking action, and to cultivate and encourage those which lead to action of the right kind. It is seeking to vitalize our good impulses and render them effective by acting on them whenever opportunity offers. Nothing can be accomplished by moodily dwelling on the disgrace of harboring the obstructing ideas. Thus brooding over them only encourages them. What we need is to get entirely away from the line of thought in which we have met our obstruction, and approach the matter from a different direction. The child who is in a fit of sulks does not so much need a lecture on the disagreeable habit he is forming as to have his thoughts led into lines not connected with the grievance which is causing him the trouble. The stubborn child does not need to have his will "broken," but rather to have it strengthened. He may be compelled to do what he does not want to do; but if this is accomplished through physical force instead of by leading to thoughts connected with the performance of the act, it may be doubted whether the will has in any degree been strengthened. Indeed it may rather be depended upon that the will has been weakened; for an opportunity for self-control, through which alone the will develops, has been lost. The ultimate remedy for rebellion often lies in greater freedom at the proper time. This does not mean that the child should not obey rightful authority promptly and explicitly, but that just as little external authority as possible should intervene to take from the child the opportunity for self-compulsion.

The Normal Will.—The golden mean between these two abnormal types of will may be called the normal or balanced will. Here there is a proper ratio between impulsion and inhibition. Ideas are not acted upon the instant they enter the mind without giving time for a survey of the field of motives, neither is action "sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought" to such an extent that it becomes impossible. The evidence is all considered and each motive fully weighed. But this once done, decision follows. No dilatory and obstructive tactics are allowed. The fleeting impulse is not enough to persuade to action, neither is action unduly delayed after the decision is made.

5. TRAINING THE WILL

The will is to be trained as we train the other powers of the mind—through the exercise of its normal function. The function of the will is to direct or control in the actual affairs of life. Many well-meaning persons speak of training the will as if we could separate it from the interests and purposes of our daily living, and in some way put it through its paces merely for the sake of adding to its general strength. This view is all wrong. There is, as we have seen, no such thing as general power of will. Will is always required in specific acts and emergencies, and it is precisely upon such matters that it must be exercised if it is to be cultivated.

Will to Be Trained in Common Round of Duties.—What is needed in developing the will is a deep moral interest in whatever we set out to do, and a high purpose to do it up to the limit of our powers. Without this, any artificial exercises, no matter how carefully they are devised or how heroically they are carried out, cannot but fail to fit us for the real tests of life; with it, artificial exercises are superfluous. It matters not so much what our vocation as how it is performed. The most commonplace human experience is rich in opportunities for the highest form of expression possible to the will—that of directing us into right lines of action, and of holding us to our best in the accomplishment of some dominant purpose.

There is no one set form of exercise which alone will serve to train the will. The student pushing steadily toward his goal in spite of poverty and grinding labor; the teacher who, though unappreciated and poorly paid, yet performs every duty with conscientious thoroughness; the man who stands firm in the face of temptation; the person whom heredity or circumstance has handicapped, but who, nevertheless, courageously fights his battle; the countless men and women everywhere whose names are not known to fame, but who stand in the hard places, bearing the heat and the toil with brave, unflinching hearts—these are the ones who are developing a moral fiber and strength of will which will stand in the day of stress. Better a thousand times such training as this in the thick of life's real conflicts than any volitional calisthenics or priggish self-denials entered into solely for the training of the will!

School Work and Will Training.—The work of the school offers as good an opportunity for training powers of will as of memory or reasoning. On the side of inhibition there is always the necessity for self-restraint and control so that the rights of others may not be infringed upon. Temptations to unfairness or insincerity in lessons and examinations are always to be met. The social relations of the school necessitate the development of personal poise and independence.

On the positive side the opportunities for the exercise of will power are always at hand in the school. Every lesson gives the pupil a chance to measure his strength and determination against the resistance of the task. High standards are to be built up, ideals maintained, habits rendered secure.

The great problem for the teacher in this connection is so to organize both control and instruction that the largest possible opportunity is given to pupils for the exercise of their own powers of will in all school relations.

6. FREEDOM OF THE WILL, OR THE EXTENT OF ITS CONTROL

We have seen in this discussion that will is a mode of control—control of our thoughts and, through our thoughts, of our actions. Will may be looked upon, then, as the culmination of the mental life, the highest form of directive agent within us. Beginning with the direction of the simplest movements, it goes on until it governs the current of our life in the pursuit of some distant ideal.

Limitations of the Will.—Just how far the will can go in its control, just how far man is a free moral agent, has long been one of the mooted questions among the philosophers. But some few facts are clear. If the will can exercise full control over all our acts, it by this very fact determines our character; and character spells destiny. There is not the least doubt, however, that the will in thus directing us in the achievement of a destiny works under two limitations: First, every individual enters upon life with a large stock of inherited tendencies, which go far to shape his interests and aspirations. And these are important factors in the work of volition. Second, we all have our setting in the midst of a great material and social environment, which is largely beyond our power to modify, and whose influences are constantly playing upon us and molding us according to their type.

These Limitations the Conditions of Freedom.—Yet there is nothing in this thought to discourage us. For these very limitations have in them our hope of a larger freedom. Man's heredity, coming to him through ages of conflict with the forces of nature, with his brother man, and with himself, has deeply instilled in him the spirit of independence and self-control. It has trained him to deliberate, to choose, to achieve. It has developed in him the power to will. Likewise man's environment, in which he must live and work, furnishes the problems which his life work is to solve, and out of whose solution will receives its only true development.

It is through the action and interaction of these two factors, then, that man is to work out his destiny. What he is, coupled with what he may do, leads him to what he may become. Every man possesses in some degree a spark of divinity, a sovereign individuality, a power of independent initiative. This is all he needs to make him free—free to do his best in whatever walk of life he finds himself. If he will but do this, the doing of it will lead him into a constantly growing freedom, and he can voice the cry of every earnest heart:

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul!
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!

7. PROBLEMS IN OBSERVATION AND INTROSPECTION

1. Give illustrations from your own experience of the various types of action mentioned in this discussion. From your own experience of the last hour, what examples of impulsive action can you give? Would it have been better in some cases had you stopped to deliberate?

2. Are you easily influenced by prejudice or personal preference in making decisions? What recent decisions have been thus affected? Can you classify the various ones of your decisions which you can recall under the four types mentioned in the text? Under which class does the largest number fall? Have you a tendency to drift with the crowd? Are you independent in deciding upon and following out a line of action? What is the value of advice? Ought advice to do more than to assist in getting all the evidence on a case before the one who is to decide?

3. Can you judge yourself well enough to tell to which volitional type you belong? Are you over-impulsive? Are you stubborn? What is the difference between stubbornness and firmness? Suppose you ask your instructor, or a friend, to assist you in classifying yourself as to volitional type. Are you troubled with indecision; that is, do you have hard work to decide in trivial matters even after you know all the facts in the case? What is the cause of these states of indecision? The remedy?

4. Have you a strong power of will? Can you control your attention? Do you submit easily to temptation? Can you hold yourself up to a high degree of effort? Can you persevere? Have you ever failed in the attainment of some cherished ideal because you could not bring yourself to pay the price in the sacrifice or effort necessary?

5. Consider the class work and examinations of schools that you know. Does the system of management and control throw responsibility on the pupils in a way to develop their powers of will?

6. What motives or incentives can be used to encourage pupils to use self-compulsion to maintain high standards of excellence in their studies and conduct? Does it pay to be heroic in one's self-control?