tral earth, we see that to these eyes the earth would be presented by the record of light, not as she is now, but as she was at that primeval day. Now, conceive those millions of eyes closing swiftly in upon the earth, but with this peculiarity of movement, that, instead of being always on a sphere around a fixed point, they were always on a sphere around the position which was really occupied by the earth when the light messages started which those eyes were receiving at the moment. Then if that wondrous sphere contracted in an instant, according to the law assigned it, until its myriad millions of eyes were gazing intently on our earth from a sphere of but a few thousand miles in radius, the whole history of the earth, so far as light could render it, would have been in a moment of time presented before the myriad-eyed sphere.

By extending these considerations to other modes in which the history of an event is recorded, so to speak, by natural processes, we can see that a much more complete and definite picture of past events than light can convey must be at all times present in the universe. A sense which could analyze heat impressions, as eyesight analyzes light, would tell us not only what eyesight tells us, but much that no light messages can convey to us. At least it is conceivable that a sense of this sort would enable the being provided with it to recognize not merely the nature of the surface of any body whose heat reached the organ of this sense, but the quality of the body's internal structure, processes going on within the body, or the nature of bodies so placed that eyesight would not render us sensible even of their existence. Electricity, in like manner, would avail to give information altogether distinct from that which light can impart.

But again, the senses by which we judge of what is going on around us are, after all, merely certain means by which we judge of causes by their effects. When we say, for instance, that we have seen such and such an object, or watched such and such an event, what we really imply is that we have recognized certain physical impressions which we can only explain by the existence of that object, or by the occurrence of that event. We know, in fact, that in certain exceptional cases impressions resembling those caused by the actual presence of an object, or by the actual occurrence of some event, may arise where no such object has been present, or where no such event has taken place. Still, we commonly feel safe from error in concluding, from certain

impressions conveyed to the mind by the agency of the senses, that certain objects have been really present, at rest or in action, before us.

But then, even man, limited as are his powers, can yet follow a series of effects and causes far more numerous than those concerned in the act of vision; and so he can become certain of the occurrence of past events of which no sense he possesses gives him any direct information. For example, though I neither saw the battle of Waterloo nor heard the thunder of the guns there, yet I am as certain that the battle really took place as though sight and hearing had given me direct information on the matter. And when I inquire whence that certainty arises, I find a complicated series of events involved in my acquisition of the knowledge that the battle took place. My interpretation of the letterpress account of the battle involved in itself a number of more or less complex relations, associated with the question of my confidence in those who taught me that certain symbols represented certain letters, that certain combinations of letters represented certain words, and that certain words represented certain ideas. Not to follow out the long train of thoughts thus suggested, it will be clear that, with regard to a variety of matters, the knowledge which any man has is associated with consideration of cause and effect, of general experience, of confidence in the accounts of others or in his own judgment, which are in reality of a highly complex character.

Now we are led by these thoughts to remember that independently of those records of past events which are continually present throughout the universe in processes resembling those which directly affect our senses, such events leave their record (even to their minutest details) in the consequences to which they have led. If a great naturalist like Huxley or Owen can tell by examining the tooth of a creature belonging to some long-extinct race, not only what the characteristics of that race were, but the general nature of the scenery amid which such creatures lived, we see at once that a single grain of sand or a drop of water must convey to an Omniscient and Omnipresent Being the history of the whole world of which it forms part. Nay, why should we pause here? The history of that world is in truth bound up so intimately with the history of the universe that the grain of sand or drop of water conveys not only the history of the world, but with equal completeness the history of the whole universe. In fact, if we consider the matter atten

tively, we see that there cannot be a single atom throughout space which could have attained its present exact position and state, had the history of any part of the universe, however insignificant, been otherwise than it has actually been, in even the minutest degree.

Turning from the past to the future, we must not let the limited nature of our recognition of the course of future events prevent us from forming a just opinion as to the way in which the future is in a sense always present. We can judge of the past by its effects, but we are almost utterly unable to judge of the future by its causes. Yet we cannot doubt that the future is present in its germs, precisely as the past is present in its fruits. It may be regarded in fact as merely a peculiarity of man's constitution that the past is more clearly present to his mental vision than the future. It is easy not only to conceive that the future and the past should be equally present to intelligent creatures, but to conceive of a form of intelligence according to which past events would be obliterated from the mind as fast as they took place, while the future should be as actually present as to the ordinary human mind the past is.

In considering the Omniscient Omnipresent Being, however, all questions of degree must be set on one side. The future must be absolutely and essentially present to such a Being in its germs as the past has been shown to be in its fruits. If a grain of sand contains in its state, figure, and position the picture of the universe as it is, and the whole history of the universe throughout the infinite past, and who can doubt that this is so?it contains with equal completeness the history of the universe throughout the infinite future. No other view is compatible with the assumption of infinite wisdom, and no assumption which limits the wisdom of a Ruler of an infinite universe is compatible with our belief in the fitness of such a Ruler to reign supreme over the universe.

Obviously also every event, however trifling, must be held to contain in itself the whole history of the universe throughout the infinite past and throughout the infinite future. For every event, let its direct importance be what it may, is indissolubly bound up with events proceeding, accompanying, and following it in endless series of causation, interaction, and effect.

So far, then, as the supervision of a Ruler over the universe is concerned, we have two lines of thought, each leading to the

recognition of perfect supervision. In virtue (1) of the omnipresence, and (2) of the infinite wisdom of such a Ruler, He could see at each instant the whole universe as it has been in the infinite past, as it is now, and as it will be in the infinite future; and this being as true of any one instant as it is of any other, we recognize the operation of yet a new form of infinity—the infinite duration of the Ruler's existence — to render yet more inconceivably perfect His supervision of the universe.

With regard to control it need hardly be said that if a Ruler does exercise control, apart from the laws assigned to His universe, His knowledge of the progress of past and future events would not therefore be called in question, since His own direct action, whether in the past or in the future, would be quite as much the subject of His consciousness (to use this word for want of a better) as the action of His creatures or of the laws He had primarily set them.

We know that certain laws have been assigned to the universe, and we know also that, so far as our very limited experience enables us to determine, these laws are never abrogated. Here I set altogether aside, for the moment, the possibility of miracles (since miracles would necessarily be nonnatural events), and consider only the results of experimental or observational science. Thus we are led to the conclusion that all things happen according to set physical laws; and we see strong reason to believe that these laws are sufficient for the control of all things.

Now it seems conceivable that in reality it is only our limited acquaintance with the operation of the laws of the universe which makes us regard them as unchanging, and, so to speak, inexorable. But I think that this view-though it has been entertained by many thoughtful men-is in reality inconsistent with just conceptions of infinite wisdom. If the wisdom of a Ruler of the universe, though inconceivably great, were yet finite, we could not suppose that the universe would have been so planned (still to use inexact words for want of better), and laws of such a nature assigned to it, that throughout the infinity of time all things should work well. There would then, undoubtedly, be continual need of adaptation, change, and remodeling of the annulment of a law here, or its suspension. there in order that the whole might not fall to rack. But with a Ruler infinitely wise, there should be no such necessity.

The whole scheme of the universe would be so perfect that direct intervention would not at any time be required.

To sum up, we perceive that, before a Ruler omnipresent, omniscient, and omnipotent, the infinite past and the infinite future of the universe would be at all times sensibly present; that each the minutest atom and every the least important event would exhibit before Him at each instant the perfect history of the limitless past and future of the universe; and, lastly, that His infinitely perfect consciousness of the control over all that has been, is, or will be, would be infinitely multiplied (to use the only available expression) by the infinite duration throughout which His existence would extend.

AMIEL'S JOURNAL.

[HENRI FRÉDÉRIC AMIEL: A Swiss essayist, poet, and psychologist; born in 1821 at Geneva; died in 1881. His works were comparatively unnoticed until the publication of his "Journal," which appeared after his death. This was a personal diary which illuminated the inmost character of the man, and in giving the picture of his personality gave also the keynote of his work. He wrote, besides, a "Study of Madame de Staël," "Millet Grains," and numerous poems. He was a professor of philosophy in the Academy at Geneva.]

(Selections from the "Journal Intime" of Henri Frédéric Amiel, translated by Mrs. Humphry Ward.)

April 28, 1852.- Once more I feel the spring languor creeping over me, the spring air about me. This morning the poetry of the scene, the song of the birds, the tranquil sunlight, the breeze blowing over the fresh green fields, all rose into and filled my heart. Now all is silent. O silence, thou art terrible! terrible as that calm of the ocean which lets the eye penetrate the fathomless abysses below. Thou showest us in ourselves depths which make us giddy, inextinguishable needs, treasures of suffering. Welcome tempests! at least they blur and trouble the surface of these waters with their terrible secrets. Welcome the passion blasts which stir the waves of the soul, and so veil from us its bottomless gulfs! In all of us, children of dust, sons of time, eternity inspires an involuntary anguish, and the infinite, a mysterious terror. We seem to be entering a kingdom of the dead. Poor heart, thy craving is