devotees, saints, men of fantastic courage, discreet and watchful persons, usurers, savages, criminals and kings, and every one of this miscellany, not simply fathering or mothering on the way to her, but teaching urgently and with every grade of intensity, views and habits for which they stand.  Something of it all has come to her, albeit much may seem forgotten.  In every human birth, with a new little variation, a fresh slight novelty of arrangement the old issues rise again.  Our ideas, even more than our blood, flow from multitudinous sources.

Certain groups of ideas come to us distinctively associated with certain marked ways of life.  Many, and for a majority of us, it may be, most of our ancestors were serfs or slaves.  And men and women who have had, generation after generation, to adapt themselves to slavery and the rule of a master, develop an idea of goodness very different from that of princes.  From our slave ancestry, says Lester Ward, we learnt to work, and certainly it is from slavery we derive the conception that industry, even though it be purposeless industry, is a virtue in itself.  The good slave, too, has a morality of restraints; he abstains from the food he handles and hungers for, and he denies himself pride and initiative of every sort.  He is honest in not taking, but he is unscrupulous about adequate service.  He makes no virtue of frankness, but much of kindly helpfulness and charity to the weak.  He has no sense of duty in planning or economising.  He is polite and soft-spoken, and disposed to irony rather than denunciation, ready to admire cuteness and condone deception.  Not so the rebel.  That tradition is working in us also.  It has been the lot of vast masses of population in every age to be living in successful or unsuccessful resistance to mastery, to be dreading oppression or to be just escaped from it.  Resentment becomes a virtue then, and any peace with the oppressor a crime.  It is from rebel origins so many of us get the idea that disrespectfulness is something of a duty and obstinacy a fine thing.  And under the force of this tradition we idealise the rugged and unmanageable, we find something heroic in rough clothes and hands, in bad manners, insensitive behaviour, and unsociableness.  And a community of settlers, again, in a rough country, fighting for a bare existence, makes a virtue of vehemence, of a hasty rapidity of execution.  Hurried and driven men glorify “push” and impatience, and despise finish and fine discriminations as weak and demoralising things.  These three, the Serf, the Rebel, and the Squatter, are three out of a thousand types and aspects that have gone to our making.  In the American composition they are dominant.  But all those thousand different standards and traditions are our material, each with something fine, and each with something evil.  They have all provided the atmosphere of upbringing for men in the past.  Out of them and out of unprecedented occasions, we in this newer age, in which there are