repressed, that society cannot afford to leave at least the grosser forms of egoism unpunished.  Men must enforce upon one another that mutual regard which individuals are constantly tempted to ignore, but without which no man’s life can find its adequate fulfillment or security.  No man, then, can be called moral, can be said to have found a comprehensive solution of life, however self-controlled and pure he may be, if he is cruel, or even lacking in consideration for others.  This is the most glaring defect in both Epicureanism and asceticism; both are fundamentally selfish.  For the proper adjustment of life to its needs we must turn rather to Christianity, or to Buddhism, with their ideals of service; to the patriotic ideals of the noblest Greeks; to Kant, with his “So act as to treat humanity, whether in their own person or in that of any other, as an end, never as a means only”; or to the British utilitarians with their “Every one to count for one, and only one.”  The question, however, persistently recurs, Why should the individual be altruistic?  What does he get out of it?  To this we may reply: 

(1) The life of service is, in normal cases, a happier life in itself than the life that is preoccupied with self.  It is richer, fuller in potentialities of joy; it is freer from regrets and the eventual emptiness of the self-centered life. [Footnote:  Cf.  Mill, Utilitarianism, chap. 2:  “When people who are tolerably fortunate in their outward lot do not find in life sufficient enjoyment to make it valuable to them, the cause generally is, caring for nobody but themselves.”] It is saner, less likely to be veered off on some tangent of morbid and ultimately disastrous indulgence

(2) The altruistic life earns the gratitude and love of others, while the selfish life remains isolated, unloved, without their stimulus and help.  Ingratitude there is, of course, and the returning of evil for good; on the other hand, the selfish man may hope for undeserved forgiveness and even love from his fellows.  But in the long run it pays to be good to others; bread cast upon the waters does return after many days; normally unkindness provokes dislike, contempt, open hostility, retaliation, while kindness finds a natural and proper reward in return favors, esteem, and affection.  No man can tell when he will be in need of sympathy or of aid; it is folly so to live as to forfeit our fellows’ good will.  And finally, selfishness carried beyond a certain point brings the penalty not only of the unfavorable opinion and private retaliations of others, but of the publicly enforced law.  “In normal cases,” we have said.  And we must add that there are cases though they are less common than we are apt to suppose in which the good of the individual is hopelessly at variance with that of the community.  If our fellows could be counted on for a fair reciprocity of self-denial and service, we should not begrudge these necessary sacrifices.  The sting lies not