the face of high authority, and in spite of all that Mr. Mill may point out respecting human liability to error.

Now, as to these axioms, the more I (as an average man) examine my own mind, the more completely I find myself satisfied about them. If I am informed that in a particular case two spaces which are equal to the same have been found not to be equal to each other, or that two units added to three have been found to be more than five, I say, with a confidence beyond what any experience could give, that the thing cannot be. I refuse to involve myself in arguments to which Mr. Mill introduces his readers respecting the inconceivable, and the unbelievable, and the unthinkable, and the incompatible. I know my own meaning, and, such as it is, have expressed it to my own satisfaction in monosyllables, and I deny that it receives any new light from being expressed pentesyllabically. "I see that it can not be." The name of Mill and the more formidable name of Herschel—more formidable not merely from the eminent capacity of Sir John Herschel, but because his opinion (I assume) was not formed under the pressure of controversy-do not overpower me. How can I believe, on the authority of these great men, that two and two may possibly make five, when even their own existence is less clear to me than that two and two only make four? Provoco ad populum.

To some extent Mr. Mill agrees with me. He appears to admit that the conclusions of experience cannot be absolute. I suppose he cannot help himself. Indeed when we consider the possibilities of the universe, infinite space before and behind, infinite time before and after-perhaps also within the same space and time, or emancipated altogether from the laws of space and time, infinitely numerous and infinitely different orders of existence incapable of physical or intellectual contact with each other— when we recollect all this, it becomes quite extravagant to suppose that the observation of facts for a few pitiful thousands of years on the surface of an extremely insignificant member of a single trumpery sidereal system can furnish ground for a generalization which shall extend to all space and time, and all other things which are not space and time. In order to warrant so gigantic an application of a principle it is indispensable to be convinced that the principle is necessarily true-a conviction which experience alone cannot give. Of all this Mr. Mill seems fully aware, and he limits accordingly the authority of experience. He is prepared to believe that in other orders of existence two and three may be equal to four, and that distances equal to the same may not be equal to each other. That a straight line is everywhere the shortest distance between two points he will not pronounce, though he does not doubt it to be true in the region

of the fixed stars, where (he says) we have ample reason to believe that the present constitution of space exists. (Logic, i. 363.) But he goes farther still. Our fundamental belief "that the same proposition cannot be true and false at the same time" is, according to him, no exception from the general law of axioms, being in fact "one of our first and most familiar generalizations from experience." It shares, therefore, the nature of other generalizations, in being limited by the experience on which it is founded. And in worlds of which we have no experience Mr. Mill was bound to believe, and, I doubt not, did believe it conceivable that the same proposition might (of course in the same sense) be true and false.

That any person who understands what he himself means by the word "true," and who also understands what he himself means by the word "false"-i.e., not true,-should be of opinion that under certain conditions the same thing should be one and the other, is to my apprehension so enormously impossible that, reflecting on the matter as quietly as I can, I feel a difficulty in escaping the conclusion that either I am or he must have been in a state of mental derangement.

And now, whether Mr. Mill is right or wrong, I will attempt to summarize some of his conclusions.

On the one side is the theory that we are capable of desiring particular things independently of the pleasure they give us; and, among the rest, that man has an intuitive sense of goodness which makes goodness in its multitudinous forms desirable. On the other side is the theory that pleasure is the only possible object of desire, and experience the only foundation of knowledge.

The following are some of the conclusions to which the great anti-intuitionist and Utilitarian teacher finds himself driven :

First, that though the theory of disinterested action may be false in philosophy, yet it must in the vast majority of cases be adopted as a rule of life, if life is to be worth having.

Secondly, that it is possible to act disinterestedly, though it is impossible to desire anything but our own interest.

Thirdly, that an intuitive certainty that good is good (unfounded as it is) is as respectable as an intuitive certainty that equals to the same are equal to each other.

Fourthly, that if we substitute experience for intuition as the basis of knowledge, that basis is to be reached by the process commonly called "arguing in a circle," at the bottom of a bottomless pit.

And lastly, Mr. Mill would not, I imagine, shrink from the conclusion that in the extremely remote region to which the foundations of all human knowledge are thus relegated, the conditions

of existence may be such that even if the intuitive theory (or anything else) be absolutely false, this need not prevent its being entirely true.

If the intellect of our universities (as I understand to be the case) is being moulded into accordance with this philosophy, it appears to me that we may expect some startling conclusions from the rising generation. Whether these conclusions will be long maintained, either by the thinking or by the unthinking part of the world outside, is another matter.

BLACHFORD.

THE

HE eloquent and learned address delivered by Professor Tyndall at Belfast, in the autumn of 1874, followed by what was termed the "brilliant vindication" of Professor Huxley, may be considered to mark an epoch in philosophical thought, as being a full, formal, and public recognition of the doctrine of EVOLUTION carried out to its logical conclusion. This conclusion is precise and intelligible, and may be summed up in two short propositions, the second being the natural and inevitable corollary of the first

1. MATTER IS ALL-POWERFUL AND ALL-SUFFICIENT. 2. MAN IS ONLY A SENTIENT AUTOMATON.

The enunciation of doctrines such as these, on such authority, and before such an assembly, could not fail to cause great excitement, both amongst the few who think for themselves, and the many who allow others to think for them, and to form their opinions. And whilst they were received at the time with "whirlwinds of applause," and have since been upheld with enthusiasm, as being the "death-knell of superstition," and the signal for the "emancipation of thought," there have not been wanting earnest and enlightened seekers after truth wherever it was to be found, who have not only refused to accept this teaching and its "logical consequences," but have been unable to see in it anything more

than a flimsy fra.nework of hypothesis, constructed upon imaginary or irrelevant facts, with a complete departure from every established canon of scientific investigation.

The enthusiasm on the one hand, and the opposition on the other, are sufficiently comprehensible. It is less easy to understand the indignation, the dislike, and the apprehension with which these utterances have been received. Nothing can be more certain than that every man has a perfect right, moral and social, as well as legal, to express before a scientific assembly any opinion that he may hold in science or philosophy. It is, therefore, worse than unmeaning to complain, as certain critics have done, that Professor Tyndall has "abused his position as President of the Association" in enunciating views "subversive of religion and morality" as understood by them.

Still more misplaced and illogical is the alarm that has been felt, and expressed in no measured terms, as to the consequences of these doctrines. Two simple reflections might at once set at rest all these apprehensions. The first is the self-evident consideration that one truth can never contradict or be opposed to another, to whatever department of knowledge or belief they may respectively belong. The second is, that statements made, and opinions expressed, on the personal authority only of men of great scientific eminence, are not necessarily scientific truths. The first duty of all thinking men, before expressing adhesion, attempting compromise, or manifesting alarm, is to inquire, "Are these doctrines true?" If they prove after proper investigation to be so, we may certainly leave the consequences to take care of themselves, feeling well assured that they will disturb no other truth in any domain of thought. But in this investigation no amount of mere assertion or authority must be allowed to rank as demonstration or proof.

Professor Huxley, in concluding his very able address, dwells some little time upon the "logical consequences" of this doctrine, but suggests that any inquiry into these matters should be carried out, irrespective of these. He says

"The logical consequences are very important, but in the course of my experience, I have found that they were the scarecrows of fools, and the beacons of wise men. Logical consequences can take care of themselves. The only question for any man to ask is this: 'Is this doctrine true or is it false?' No other question can be taken into consideration until that is settled. And as I have said, the logical consequences of doctrines can only serve as a warning to wise men to ponder well whether the doctrine be true or not, and to test it in every possible direction."

This is a fair challenge, and the issue is simple and direct. Is this doctrine true? Not who has said it, or what great authorities have upheld it, or under what overwhelming prestige it has been