exercise with minimum fatigue.

Returning to our corollary, it will hardly be necessary to show that in maximum remove we have maximum variety or exercise, and that in maximum similarity we have maximum unity or minimum fatigue, and hence, that Poetry is one with all beauty.

What shall we say, then? That this reduces Poetical creation to a mere mechanical operation, capable of being measured in terms of foot-pounds? Mayhap. Yet would we hold that the position here taken, if true, instead of destroying our belief in the creative genius of the Poet, strengthens its hands by enabling us to think of him as we do of the Philosopher,—as an intellectual development, and not, as Coleridge has put it, as an "inspired idiot;" for, as we shall take occasion to show, Poet and Philosopher evidence their genius in intellectual operations that are identical.

Let us not fear that in so doing we shall put aside the veil of the "holy of holies," and make bare the fact that it contains naught but the rod of Aaron and the pot of manna.

Naught but these? And was there no mystery there? Yea, verily the mystery of the worship of a God not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.

Poet versus Philosopher.

ARLYLE, in his "Heroes and Hero

CAR

Worship," has maintained that if a man

is great in any one department of life, he would, of necessity, be great in any other to which he might devote himself.

That there is in this somewhat of truth few will question, though among the admirers of the Poet or Philosopher there are many who would urge, as its "rock of offense," that the greatness of the former is evidenced in operations essentially different from those upon which depend the greatness of the latter; while the devotees of each will cry out in antiphonal response, "Great is our god above all gods!"

Now, without committing ourselves to Carlyle's general proposition, we may yet

question the exactness of the above objection, and would hold, as in the previous article, that the genius of Poet and Philosopher are alike intellectual developments. Nor is it meant by this that in some vague and indefinite way the creation of the Poet is an intellectual operation, and that, in some less vague but different way, the work of the Philosopher is intellectual; but that both evidence their genius in mental processes that are identical.

We have heard so much of late about the wonderful child Induction, that many have been persuaded his elder should do him reverence. Indeed, so largely has this notion obtained, that the genius of the Philosopher is evidenced in his induction, that it has compelled a protest from one whose "philosophic sagacity" few will question.

In his "Use and Limits of the Imagination in Science," page 53, Professor Tyndall says: "Thus the vocation of the true experimentalist may be defined as the continued exercise of spiritual insight, and its incessant correction. and realization. His experiments constitute a

body of which his purified intuitions are as it were the soul." Or, according to this, the genius of the Philosopher is displayed, not in the checking of his inferences, not in his Induction, but in the inferences themselves; in his "spiritual insight," his "purified intuitions." But writers of this ilk are not apt to content themselves with such vague terms, and so we find him asking on page 16: "How, then, are those hidden things to be revealed? We are gifted with the power of Imagination, and by this power we can lighten the darkness which surrounds the world of sense. Bounded and conditioned by Co-operant Reason, Imagination becomes the mightiest instrument of the physical discoverer. Newton's passage from a falling apple to a falling moon was at the outset a leap of the Imagination."

Here we have a somewhat more definite term than "spiritual insight" or "purified intuitions," and we all realize, in a general way, that, in the exercise of this faculty of Imagination, we imagine, or mentally picture, something with which we are not familiar. But let us not anticipate ourselves; and since it is