to the future. It maintains this character to the very end of life and generation after generation. Now, if there is no future life, such a law is out of sorts. It has a range too broad for the facts marshaled by it. It is full of high-sounding, yet empty words. It is ever holding- up ideals that cannot be attained. Man is thus led on to wearisome and disappointing effort by promises made to his highest and most sensitive nature. Moral fitness is most of all wanting in morality itself.

Irrational life under its law of appetite and instinct is fit, proportionate, fortunate; rational life under its law of duty, perplexed, restless, even disastrous and diabolical. No man can well accept the moral law as one of spiritual insight, and not feel at once that the years of eternity must be given to it in which to clear itself; that a long day of fulfilment and peace is to follow and level up the end with the beginning. Men are now called on by this law of duty to stand on the verge of time, to cast all things behind them, and in the faith of implicit obedience to fling themselves on the open-handed future. If this future drops them into oblivion, what then? They have played the part, on the highest stage of the world, of a moral maniac.

The empiricist, while greatly cutting down the moral nature, tries to get depth enough to float his razeed craft, by claiming an immortality for the race. This makes the matter worse rather. An infinite number of restless, unfortunate, and half-fortunate creatures cannot outweigh a single perfect man. It may be thought that this argument implies