I have already distinguished three varieties of gift: articles of my own possession, pleasures which might be mine diverted to another, and a means of growth imparted to another at my own cost. These form successively higher stages of giving, the greatest gift of all being, in my judgment, the gift of growth. Curiously enough, Kant denounces this as immoral. Man, he urges, is a person, the only being, so far as we know, who is capable of self-development. To attempt to take away this power and substitute another’s developing agency is an intrusion. A man’s growth is the business of no one but himself. If another person can scatter a pleasure or two in his path, it is a worthy altruistic act. But for any one but himself to undertake his construction is presumptuous and, indeed, impossible. In building a house we use plastic material, which has no will. But a person is essentially active, self-directed, and beyond the reach of agencies other than his own. When we teachers offer to make our pupils wiser, we promise what we cannot perform. Ourselves we can make wiser. To our pupils we can only offer material for their use. We may tell them that by devoting themselves to study they will reach capacious lives. But such lives we have no power to bestow. If our suggestions are rejected, we are helpless. Such is Kant’s extreme theory. But has he gone far enough? Have I any more ability to impart a pleasure? I certainly cannot pick up a pleasure and put it into another person, regardless of how it will be received. There must be co-operation. The receiver may turn it into either pleasure or pain. Kant’s objection applies with nearly equal force against the giving of pleasures. In both cases we merely provide material, subject to acceptance or rejection, material which has proved useful in many previous cases. I give my friend a ticket to the theatre, bidding him enjoy himself and get the refreshment he needs. But I cannot be sure what he will get. He may be bored and wish he had stayed at home. There are great uncertainties in gifts, for their receivers are indeed persons, the least calculable of all beings. A piece of property I can convey to a person with some certainty that he has received it. But whether it will mean for him what it meant for me I cannot tell. In all the best affairs of life there is risk.