As this sheet is going to press, I receive a very interesting letter from “a poor mother.” That no wholesome occupation is at present offered in England to youths of the temper she describes, is precisely the calamity which urged my endeavour to found the St. George’s Company. But if she will kindly tell me the boy’s age, and whether the want of perseverance she regrets in him has ever been tested by giving him sufficient motive for consistent exertion, I will answer what I can, in next ‘Fors.’ FORS CLAVIGERA. LETTER LIV. Before going on with my own story to-day, I must fasten down a main principle about doing good work, not yet enough made clear. It has been a prevalent notion in the minds of well-disposed persons, that if they acted according to their own conscience, they must, therefore, be doing right. But they assume, in feeling or asserting this, either that there is no Law of God, or that it cannot be known; but only felt, or conjectured. “I must do what I think right.” How often is this sentence uttered and acted on—bravely—nobly—innocently; but always—because of its egotism—erringly. You must not do what YOU think right, but, whether you or anybody think, or don’t think it, what is right. “I must act according to the dictates of my conscience.” By no means, my conscientious friend, unless you are quite sure that yours is not the conscience of an ass. “I am doing my best—what can man do more?” You might be doing much less, and yet much better:—perhaps you are doing your best in producing, or doing, an eternally bad thing. All these three sayings, and the convictions they express, are wise only in the mouths and minds of wise men; they are deadly, and all the deadlier because bearing an image and superscription of virtue, in the mouths and minds of fools. “But there is every gradation, surely, between wisdom and folly?” No. The fool, whatever his wit, is the man who doesn’t know his master—who has said in his heart—there is no God—no Law. The wise man knows his master. Less or more wise, he perceives lower or higher masters; but always some creature larger than himself—some law holier than his own. A law to be sought—learned, loved—obeyed; but in order to its discovery, the obedience must be begun first, to the best one knows. Obey something; and you will have a chance some day of finding out what is best to obey. But if you begin by obeying nothing, you will end by obeying Beelzebub and all his seven invited friends. Which being premised, I venture to continue the history of my own early submissions to external Force.