Sophie had fallen into that dangerous error so common to enthusiasts—the exclusive absorption in one duty, to the neglect of others. Sophie’s self-devotion would have been good as it seemed beautiful, had it been governed by _moderation_. It has been ingeniously said by Hassler that “from its position in the solar system, neither too close nor too far removed from the centre of light and heat—_moderation_ would seem to be the peculiar virtue appropriate to our earth”—and when one thinks of it, it would seem the one thing needful for a better reason than mere locality. Moderation is the moral gauge, the moral regulator, and should be president of the debating society of the passions, propensities, sentiments, and virtues. Moderation is to the heart what reason is to the head. Moderation is just precisely that hair line, erroneously said to be invisible, that divides the right from the wrong, good from evil, and virtue from vice. For see: courage is a good thing, but carried beyond the bounds of moderation it becomes rashness—which is a bad thing. Cautiousness is also good, but beyond moderation it becomes cowardice—which is bad. Liberality on the other side of the line of moderation is prodigality. Even religion, piety, which is most excellent, stretched beyond the line of moderation becomes fanaticism, superstition—which is anything but worship and honor to the Creator. I can quote Scripture for that, “Be not righteous over much.” Poor Sophie was “over much,” and hence her self-sacrifice was not, as it might have been, productive of unmingled good. To Hagar it brought much evil, not only by leaving her to the pursuit of her own wild pleasures, but in subjecting her before she could understand it to the caprices of an unimpaired intellect excited by a nervous and bilious temperament. Her sentiments towards her uncle were at the time of Sophie’s departure a singular and most exasperating blending of affection and anger, if not of positive love and hatred. He would take her into favor for weeks, and just as she was growing confident and easy in his affection, he would throw her off without a cause, and treat her with freezing coldness for other weeks; her first feeling would be a mixed emotion of sorrow and anger, and that would subside into a cold dislike, fostered by his unkind manner; and then just as she was getting to hate him comfortably, feeling quite justified in entertaining the sentiment and quite independent in consequence, lo and behold, some unexpected, and as it would seem to her, some undeserved act of kindness or tenderness would melt the iceberg in her bosom, and she could weep in very penitence for all the coldness she had felt and shown.