12. Your liberty of choice has simply destroyed for you so much life and strength, never regainable. It is true, you now know the habits of swine, and the taste of husks; do you think your father could not have taught you to know better habits and pleasanter tastes, if you had stayed in his house; and that the knowledge you have lost would not have been more, as well as sweeter, than that you have gained? But "it so forms my individuality to be free!" Your individuality was given you by God, and in your race, and if you have any to speak of, you will want no liberty. 13. In fine, the arguments for liberty may in general be summed in a few very simple forms, as follows: Misguiding is mischievous: therefore guiding is. If the blind lead the blind, both fall into the ditch: therefore, nobody should lead anybody. Lambs and fawns should be left free in the fields; much more bears and wolves. If a man's gun and shot are his own, he may fire in any direction he pleases. A fence across a road is inconvenient; much more one at the side of it. Babes should not be swaddled with their hands bound down to their sides: therefore they should be thrown out to roll in the kennels naked. 14. None of these arguments are good, and the practical issues of them are worse. For there are certain eternal laws for human conduct which are quite clearly discernible by human reason. So far as these are discovered and obeyed, by whatever machinery or authority the obedience is procured, there follow life and strength. So far as they are disobeyed, by whatever good intention the disobedience is brought about, there follow ruin and sorrow. 15. The first duty of every man in the world is to find his true master, and, for his own good, submit to him; and to find his true inferior, and, for that inferior's good, conquer him. The punishment is sure, if we either refuse the reverence, or are too cowardly and indolent to enforce the compulsion. A base nation crucifies or poisons its wise men, and lets its fools rave and rot in its streets. A wise nation obeys the one, restrains the other, and cherishes all. JOHN RUSKIN. A LAUGHING CHORUS. I. Oh, such a commotion under the ground When March called "Ho, there! ho!" Such spreading of rootlets far and wide, Such whispering to and fro. And "Are you ready?" the Snowdrop asked; "'Tis time to start, you know." "Almost, my dear, "the Scilla replied; "I'll follow as soon as you go." Then, "Ha! ha! ha!" a chorus came Of laughter soft and low From the millions of flowers under the ground-- Yes--millions--beginning to grow. II.