In the second place, under such an arrangement, the highest purpose for which the public schools exist would be defeated. Sectarian schools tend to separate the members of the various denominations from one another, and to hinder the growth of that spirit of national unity which it is, on the other hand, the prime duty of the public school to create and foster. The support of a system of public education out of the proceeds of taxation is justifiable in the last analysis as a measure dictated to the State by the law of self-preservation. The State maintains public schools in order to preserve itself--i. e., its unity. And this is especially true in a republic. In a monarchy the strong arm of the reigning dynasty, supported by a ruling class, may perhaps suppress discord, and hold the antagonistic elements among the people in subjection by sheer force. In a republic only the spirit of unity among the people themselves can keep them a people. And this spirit is fostered in public schools, where children of all classes and sects are brought into daily, friendly contact, and where together they are indoctrinated into the history, tradition, and aspirations of the nation to which they belong. What then? We have seen that we can not encourage, that we can not permit, the establishment of sectarian schools at the public expense. We have also seen that we can not teach religion in the public schools. Must we, therefore, abandon altogether the hope of teaching the elements of morals? Is not moral education conceded to be one of the most important, if not the most important, of all branches of education? Must we forego the splendid opportunities afforded by the daily schools for this purpose? Is there not a way of imparting moral instruction without giving just offense to any religious belief or any religious believer, or doing violence to the rights of any sect or of any party whatsoever? The correct answer to this question would be the solution of the problem of unsectarian moral education. I can merely state my answer to-day, in the hope that the entire course before us may substantiate it. The answer, as I conceive it, is this: It is the business of the moral instructor in the school to deliver to his pupils the subject-matter of morality, but not to deal with the sanctions of it; to give his pupils a clearer understanding of what _is_ right and what _is_ wrong, but not to enter into the question why the right should be done and the wrong avoided. For example, let us suppose that the teacher is treating of veracity. He says to the pupil, Thou shalt not lie. He takes it for granted that the pupil feels the force of this commandment, and acknowledges that he ought to yield obedience to it. For my part, I should suspect of quibbling and dishonest intention any boy or girl who would ask me, Why ought I not to lie? I should hold up before such a child the Ought in all its awful majesty. The right to reason about