Popular Science
Monthly_ an essay on _Human Instincts_, characterized by a vigorous
common sense and close observation. When he asserts (contrary to the
old metaphysics) the existence of such instincts as fear,
acquisitiveness, constructiveness, play (or, properly, playfulness),
curiosity, sociability, shyness, secretiveness, cleanliness, modesty,
shame, love, coyness or personal isolation, jealousy, parental love,
etc., he shows the spirit of science. But is it not self-evident, Mr.
James, to a man of your fine intelligence, that all strong impulses
(or instincts, as you call them) must have a special nervous apparatus
in the psychic region of the brain; and that loving, blushing,
stealing, and fighting cannot be functions of the same organs
concerned in perceiving color, or comprehending music? If I have
traced these instincts to the special convolutions in which they
reside, and given innumerable demonstrations of their locality, even
in Boston, and before critical observers, why have you not interested
yourself in the question of the cerebral localities and the complete
demonstration of all the instincts by that method?

I have even found an instinct of the _love of truth_ among the higher
sentiments, which, to a few rare individuals, is the predominant
impulse of their lives, though, alas, in college professors, as well
as in other classes generally, it is "inhibited" by a great variety of
opposing instincts, interests, and social influences. Nowhere is it
more completely "inhibited" than in Boston and Cambridge, as I have
been informed by the most intelligent old citizens.

THE FAR-AWAY BATTLE.--In the quiet home the sounds of the far-away
strife are not heard. The war of the cannon is determining the destiny
of empires, but it is unheard in the cottage. The myriad sounds of
commerce in the city do not disturb the quiet of that home. Its quiet
life attracts no attention. But there is something in that home more
important than war or commerce or king-craft--something that concerns
human welfare more profoundly. In that quiet home, a human life is
developing; a human soul preparing for its life work--a work that will
change the destiny of coming generations. In many quiet homes such a
work is in progress, determining a nation's future.

All important movements are quiet and obscure in their origin. As the
magnificent forest was slowly and obscurely germinated in darkness, in
the seeds from which it sprung, so a