a "degenerate."
Degenerate he certainly is, but only until he can be taught to deny
himself candy when it is not good for him, with quiet and content.

There are many petty self-indulgences which, if continually practised,
can do great and irreparable harm in undermining the will. Every man or
woman knows his own little weaknesses best, but that which leads to the
greatest harm is the excuse, "It is my temperament; if I were not
tardy, or irritable, or untidy,"--or whatever it may be,--"I would not
be myself." Our temperament is given us as a servant, not as a master;
and when we discover that an inherited perversion of temperament can be
trained to its opposite good, and train it so, we do it not at a loss
of individuality, but at a great gain. This excuse of "temperament" is
often given as a reason for not yielding. The family will is dwelt upon
with a pride which effectually prevents it from keeping its best
strength, and blinds the members of the family to the weakness that is
sure to come, sooner or later, as a result of the misuse of the
inheritance of which they are so proud.

If we train our wills to be passive or active, as the need may be, in
little things, that prepares us for whatever great work may be before
us. Just as in the training of a muscle, the daily gentle exercise
prepares it to lift a great weight.

Whether in little ways or in great ways, it is stupid and useless to
expect to gain real strength, unless we are working in obedience to the
laws that govern its development. We have a faculty for distinguishing
order from disorder and harmony from discord, which grows in delicacy
and strength as we use it, and we can only use it through refusing
disorder and choosing order. As our perception grows, we choose more
wisely, and as we choose more wisely, our perception grows. But our
perceptions must work in causes, not at all in effects, except as they
lead us to a knowledge of causes. We must, above all, train our wills
as a means of useful work. It is impossible to perfect ourselves for
the sake of ourselves.

It is a happy thing to have been taught the right use of the will as a
child, but those of us who have not been so taught, can be our own
fathers and our own mothers, and we must be content with a slow growth.
We are like babies learning to walk. The baby tries day after day, and
does not feel any strain, or wake in the morning with a distressing
sense of "Oh! I must practise walking to-day