test of correct practical application. I say correct, for the faults made are not so frequently faults in the theory, as faults in its application. But that it is wrongly applied is no reason to say that in itself it is wrong or useless as little as we can deny the utility of an algebraic formula, because we cannot properly apply it. Enough that it is the shortest and best road, for which we are to be grateful and not to inveigh thereat, because, even with good roads, we are not safe from stumbling, clumsy in the feet as we frequently are. We must not expect that we can learn to read by buying a pair of good spectacles, as the old man in the tale did. It is true we may make mistakes in attempting to bring every single instance under a general law, and people who do so are rightly charged with pedantry. We cannot always carry our theories immediately over into life. Life is such a complicated structure, there are so many recondite currents, causes and effects, hidden from sight, which make up a single phenomenon, that though it be not absolutely impossible, it is highly impracticable to find under what generalisation each instance belongs, simply because man's mind is limited in time and in actual thinking energy. But even the recognition of this fact is a scientific generalisation. If the 'unmethodical,' the 'unscientific' and 'practical,' have long recognised this, it is not because they are not scientific, but because in this case they have made a correct generalisation, and in so far are methodical.

Nor are the frequent charges of absent-mindedness raised against philosophers, at all, in every case, a sign of unpracticality. Not all absent-minded people, nor

even all students of philosophy, are philosophers. Absent-mindedness is frequently the result of a highly practical calculation. Nothing is more practical and bears more remarkably the stamp of scientific method than concentration of thought. The highest law of practicality is the law of the Economy of Energy. Instead of diffusing force in various directions without attaining any complete result, it is most practical to concentrate all our strength upon one aim, for then we are most likely to acquire one excellent and entire consummation. This is so with the manufacture of goods; why should it not equally be so with the creation of mental objects? And if a philosopher see this, and come to the conclusion that many things that others value are worthless, while he needs his force for one great object, is he not justified in being highly practical, and concentrating all his mental force upon that object? There is no doubt a 'too far' in this course, as in all others; but the blame cast on such men frequently means merely that they do not value what others esteem of the highest importance in life.

This is one of the true and least condemnable causes of absent-mindedness. A man is absent from one thing, because he is over-present to another. Concentration of thought is a kind of Sympathy, inasmuch as it is a total severing one's-self from one's-self, and the total transplanting of one's self into another object. For Sympathy in its negative aspect is antagonistic to Egoism; it is selflessness. But there exists no doubt an excess of such concentration. Luckily the remedy and punishment generally follow. No doubt Kant (of

whose absent-mindedness so many tales are told) after he had sat down on the stove and put his tea-kettle on the chair, unconscious of the mistake until he missed the habitual singing of the kettle, wrote a reminder upon one of his slips of paper: Mem. not to think about the Categorical Imperative' whilst making tea!

The true utility of theory is also disciplinary. A theory is to become flesh and blood. If we have once tested a formula, we use it, and cannot and need not go back for every instance to the original steps by which we arrived at the formula. Theory is unpractical unless it be transfused into our very nature, and thus become a safer guide to action than mere instinctive guessing. In other words, all the single intellections which compose theory and Science are to become 'moods,' are to become emotional. Emotion and Intellect, the two great divisions of Mind, are complementary in all correct thought and action.

We have already examined the points of agreement and connection between these two elements of mind, in order to counteract the fallacious tendency to institute antithesis between them; and have shown how they both together bring forth normal mental action. We must now direct our attention to certain cases in which these two elements are so distributed as to disturb normal action-or, more correctly stated, in which abnormal mental states and resulting irrational actions drive us to conclude that the balance between Emotion and Intellect is disturbed.

CHAPTER XVI.

SECTION I.-THE CRITERION OF A WRONG BALANCE OF EMOTION AND INTELLECT.

THOUGH we may say, the steam-engine and the rudder together are the agents which direct a steamer, and though we recommend the improvement of both, still, the steam power may become so great that the rudder cannot direct, and one of the new rudders worked by steam, may absorb so much power that the forward motion of the ship is impeded. Well, the moving and the guiding powers of the mind may also, in special instances, be thus unequally developed : but how can we recognise this fact?

The best, the most tangible measure of the right proportion between these moving and guiding powers in man, is to be found in the aim of the human mind: what the human mind is to accomplish, what work it has to do, namely, according to Mr. Darwin's principles, to adapt itself to the conditions of existence, to attain success in the battle of life. It is good to have as strong arms as possible; but we must expend different amounts of muscular force to lift a five-pound weight and to lift a

hundred-pound weight; we must know then what the weight is we have to lift.

But the phrase 'human mind' is very vague and general. Humanity is made up of individuals, and 'human mind' is subject to evolution, and is possessed to a different degree by individuals in different ages and in different vocations of life. How then can we speak definitely of its aim, not being able to form a clear conception of it? The more widely we apprehend mind the vaguer will our conception of its aim be: for example, the aim of the world—i.e. the universe, past, present, and future-is less easily ascertained than that of a historical epoch; of such an epoch than of one nation; of a nation than of an individual; of an individual than of a special side of the individual, such as, social man, business, professional man, and so on.

I restrict myself to the balance of Emotion and Intellect in the individual and in the nation, assuming that the best aim is sufficiently recognised by common consent. At least we can say in many cases, with practical certainty, that the right balance has not been attained. When therefore we recognise an undue preponderance of the moving or the guiding power, how can we restore the proper balance?

From the nature of these two mental elements it is not possible in every instance to rectify their wrong balance at the moment; but a man of an extraordinary power of will and habits of introspection may in the course of time train himself. Through repeated action in one direction he may alter his frame of mind. This is what we mean by discipline and habit. It is, how