unalterably, irreversibly; and the same is true with regard to our intellectual qualities, nay, it even applies to the physiognomy.

How is it possible, then, for blame and merit to lie otherwise than in what we are? As we saw in Part II., Chapter VII., Conscience is that register of our acts, which is always growing longer, and therefore that acquaintance with ourselves which every day becomes more complete. Conscience concerns itself directly with all that we do; when, at one time, actuated by Egoism, or perhaps Malice, we turn a deaf ear to Compassion, which bids us at least refrain from harming others, if we will not afford them help and protection; or when again, at another time, we overcome the first two incentives, and listen to the voice of the third. Both cases measure the distinction we draw between ourselves and