affection revived, and he married her, thus making good, as far as possible, the wrong he had done her. He tells the whole story in his autobiography in a candid, matter-of-fact way, without the least affectation of romance, or even sentiment. But on the whole it must be admitted that, while the final marriage was creditable enough, his conduct at this period of life does not appear like that of a high-minded man. It was painfully apparent what tendencies in his nature he had to overcome in order to rise to a high level.
But he was equal to the task. When he had become a married man he conceived, as he tells us, “the bold and arduous project of arriving at moral perfection.” He “wished to live without committing any fault at any time.” He undertook to supplement his self-made religion by a self-made scheme of moral improvement, and a quaint, thoroughly Franklinian scheme it was. He tried to practice self-discipline and to cultivate virtue by means of bookkeeping. This is the way he did it. He wrote the names of the virtues he resolved to practice, in a little book, allotting one page to each. They were thirteen: Temperance, Silence, Order, Resolution, Frugality, Industry, Sincerity, Justice, Moderation, Cleanliness, Tranquillity, Chastity and Humility. Each page he divided into little squares, and each day he marked there every offense committed against any of the virtues. At first the result discouraged him somewhat, for he did not find himself quite as good as he expected. Then it struck him that he might make better progress if he paid special attention to one virtue at a time, so as to acquire the habit of it, letting the others meanwhile take their chance. This system of methodical watchfulness by bookkeeping he carried on for a long period, and repeated it from time to time throughout his long life with remarkable success. He tells us himself that he saw his faults
