motion, or from some others unknown to us, or from chancewhich is tantamount to none at all. Hence the idea of the Uniformity of Nature must be assumed in every effort that is made in hope for the discovery and confirmation of any new fact.

Such uniformity, being absolutely necessary, is assumed by all systems of knowledge, whether they be theistic, atheistic, or the forlorn hope of doubters and agnostics. Whether the government of the universe be by Mechanical Causation, Immanent Design, or a Personality directing the movement of matter ab extra, each and all these theories are compelled to rest on the same fundamental assumption; for when revealed religion points to miracles as a voucher it rests upon the principle of uniformity with, if possible, greater confidence than the mere Naturalist. For in this case exceptis probat regulam; since the fixedness of uniformity is so complete that nothing save the action of the Lord of nature can interfere with this, and he does so only for a specific purpose. So, for the purpose we have in view, it makes not the slightest difference which of these theories as to the source of this uniformity be taken; what is asserted is that there is uniformity in the movement of this system which Science tries to expound as the expression of nature. Nor is it incumbent on us to show how this notion of uniformity is gained. Suffice it to say that we believe in it as soon as we arrive at self-consciousness, and find it necessary as a basis for action and thought alike in the affairs of life and in the work of scientific investigation; hence that we are justified in assuming it as an à priori conception. All expositions of nature on a materialistic assumption hold that the idea of uniformity is the product of experience. Mill may be taken as the fairest type of those thinkers who hold this view. His contention is that this is gained from the association of ideas. Through repeated experiences of one unvarying result following a combination of causes operating under like conditions we come at length to expect the same in every case. But this does not seem to be an adequate explanation of the facts attested by our consciousness. The first dawnings of intellect make us acquainted with a solid and permanent world. Antedating all well-defined experiment we expect stability in the earth and uniformity of

movement in every case as our warrant for acting at all. When the child attracted by the brightness adventures its hand into the flames, and suffers, there is no inquisitive second attempt to discover whether like causes-namely, the thrusting of the hand into the flames-will produce like results. When a substance of a certain shape, color, and consistency is found, by tasting, to be sweet and grateful to the palate the hand reaches out for the like object, expecting a similar grateful experience. This is really an innate idea, because it is acted upon before there can be any series of experiences to form an association of ideas. The senses are believed implicitly from the start, else there would be no inclination to use them. If the child were without any, even the lowest, predilection either way he would never make any effort to test his organs of sense. Instead we would have for the universal experience of our race in infancy the case of the ass between two bundles of hay: equal motives operating on him from opposite directions with no reason, innate or gained through experience, for eating one way rather than another. There would be the "freedom of indifference" with a vengeance, and no effort whatever would be made. And if so at the start it must continue; for until there was an inclination to test the course of nature by experiment there would be none made. Hence every act would be indifferent except for the innate assurance that nature is constant. For if the first result be accidental there would be no reason for a second or a third trial of the same kind; and hence neither in childhood nor maturity could there be a beginning made for the association of ideas. The greatest intellects are sometimes guilty of a paralogism, and here we have a notable example. It is not the association of ideas that gives birth to the notion of uniformity in nature, but the innate conviction of uniformity which renders it possible that ideas be associated. Unconsciously the principle is admitted to be innate because it is assumed to exist in order to account for its own evolution. If the realities of which the ideas are the symbols were not connected in nature they could not be joined in an orderly manner by the mind; for what is not joined in nature cannot be united except arbitrarily, and the mind which acted on such a principle would find itself in perpetual conflict

with reality. Here again we are compelled to believe that there is a correspondence, a preestablished harmony, between the constitution of the mind and that of external nature by which the former is enabled to see things as they are, and proceed upon this fact as a fundamental truth. This idea, then, of uniformity is one of the original faculties of the soul; call it innate idea, original power, or what name soever may please. It is not only operative as soon as there is sufficient development of personality to enable it to act independently, it is a precondition of all activity.

But though the testimony of the senses is believed in implicitly, and the outer world on which they act is a constant quantity, yet there gradually dawns upon the infant mind the fact that he may be mistaken in his judgment. The first result of such a view is the suspicion that there may be capriciousness somewhere among the materials and causes with which he has to deal, for events wholly unexpected occur. Efforts are made to achieve a specific result and something totally different happens. So far, then, from the idea of uniformity being the result of experience, namely, the association of ideas, there is a spontaneous stage of uncertainty through which the mind of each person passes. This is like that superinduced by the deliberate purpose of Descartes when he sought to establish an unassailable starting point. But at bottom there is, in both instances, this belief in uniformity. The doubt arises only from the mistaken judgment which it has founded on its own experience. Its association of ideas has not corresponded with the facts of nature of which these are the symbols. And hence experience leads astray until the reflecting power reasserts itself and demonstrates, as it were, that there are axioms of intuition which the mind itself possesses as its part of the reasoning process. It is as absurd to think that the mind can do nothing of itself as it is true that the body is utterly helpless without the mind to direct it. And the mind must act independently in the elaboration of universal truths, since these never can be attained through experience. It then cooperates with the material instrument by the application of its own native forces. We may call these axioms, first truths, intuitions, or any other name which most properly designates its separate part in the processes of intel

lectual life. Hence, when the mind finds that its experiences and the association of ideas founded upon them are faulty it calls in question not only its own judgments, and those of other men, but the processes by which they have been formed, and learns to rectify them by the aid of the axiomatic principles with which it is furnished. It discovers that the facts of nature are reliable; that her laws are constant; and that the mistakes, which are the wrong associations of ideas acquired through experience, are the result of ignorance of the reality. Thus comes the tendency to doubt, which if not arrested may end in agnosticism. But if this be looked at with the proper spirit it will be found to arise from a narrow and hasty generalization which is discovered to be defective; and this in turn from an indolent temper which will not take the pains to thoroughly test the proof for the facts on which the judgments rest. In the case of Descartes, he was convinced that there is a solid foundation on which the superstructure of knowledge can be erected. But all the mistaken judgments superinduced by the false association of ideas by those who had preceded him must be brushed away, and the mind brought directly in contact with reality. Nature is constant in her operations, and if we can reach her processes and rest implicitly upon them as a foundation we can build an unshaken superstructure of knowledge. But to do this we keep close to her heart, and listen to its constant beats. So far, then, from thinking that nature is not uniform, whether in her material constitution or the laws which are potent, Descartes's method is the true process. This is by yielding everything that doubt can assail to arrive ultimately at those principles which are indubitable and unchangeable. The difficulty has arisen from the attempt to force nature into the molds of our categories, and thus make our associations of ideas the measure of reality.

Now since any fact—if the universe is a system—is connected with every other, there are many forces involved in the production of any result. Those which are positive are counteracted by such as are negative in their influences. But a narrow generalization seizing upon a few, and those which come to hand first, finds that its conclusions do not tally with the truth. For a wider generalization discloses other forces which counteract and render the effect

uncertain. Without the patience and industry which will not rest content until the last source of information has been exhausted, the indolent doubter, when his hastily assumed hypotheses will not work, jumps at the conclusion that this is a world of chance; or if any uniformity exists it has not and cannot be discovered. This is the legitimate result of making our crude association of ideas the test of uniformity. This temper of impatience, which is too sluggish to expend sufficient energy to arrive at the truth, breeds agnosticism; and transfers to nature herself the blame which properly belongs to the individual. It finds expression among the Know Nothings of every age, from Gorgias* to Lombroso and Clifford, who subvert every possible theory of knowledge. For they propose a specific which is destructive of all thought and action and, if adopted, would leave man in helpless imbecility.

But there is, as we have said, a stage of doubt, through which every earnest inquirer passes, when there seems to be uncertainty attaching to all the processes of nature, and consequently to all her results. The senses are formed to give uncertain information. The phenomenal world appears as a rudis indigestaque moles. Instead of what one wishes or expects he gets a disappointing result, and chance seems to be the reigning principle. This temper where persisted in generally grows out of disappointment in some of the cherished purposes of life; where things do not work to suit us and the result does not seem to be commensurate with the means employed. Hence our own temper is projected into the outward world, and the prejudgments of association cause us to see, not what the senses furnish, but what we expect. But those who have courage, perseverance, and industry come through this period of doubt chastened, invigorated, and more trustful. They find that the fault is in themselves, in their methods or lack of system, and their impatience for results too soon after sowing the seed. The senses are not found to be at fault. External nature is constant, and speaks with absolute truthfulness. There has been a wrong interpretation. We have made an association of ideas

* Aristot. de Melisso, Xenop., Gorg., cap. v: ó Topуíaç ovк elvai onoiv ovdév ei d' éoTIV ἄγνωστον εἶναι· εἰ δὲ καὶ ἔστι καὶ γνωστὸν, αλλ' οὐ δηλωτὸν ἄλλοις.