In my last chapter I began the discussion of that superpersonal love which I called Justice. It is concerned with functions rather than individuals, and love is thus extended to a multitude who still remain unknown. To keep the framework of society steady large co-operation is required, each of its members becoming responsible for the working of some one among its many functions and having his own well-being bound up with its. To that function each is to devote himself as the lover does to his lady, and through it he sends his benefactions abroad to whoever stands in need. Such is the ideal of professional responsibility; and whether seen in shoemaker, doctor, or head of a family, it is something of wider scope and more generous impulse than private love. Yet even in professional responsibility an element of selection remains. After studying the needs of the community I pick out what work I will do. On some single need I fasten--the need of settling quarrels, and I become a lawyer; the need of instruction, and I become a teacher; the needs of the breakfast-table, and I become a grocer. In all these cases my service is given not to man as man, but only to a section of men, to those who are conscious of a certain specific need. It is possible, however, to extend justice and, not confining attention to wants already known, to endeavor to enlarge the whole intellectual horizon of our fellows. Thus love becomes peculiarly impersonal and creative. For example, when I become an artist or scientific man I do not know precisely what I shall contribute to the good of the public. The public itself has experienced no want of the wares which I shall furnish. In devoting myself to the higher mathematics I am pursuing something for which a practical application may never be found. But that uncertainty should not hold me back. I know that the mind of man moves off in that direction. I will follow and see how far it can be pressed. These investigations I am making in astronomy are curious. They satisfy my passion for knowing. Believing they will satisfy that passion in others also, I ask no more. Passing beyond the immediate application of my results, I simply aim at developing persons more fully as persons, so that their capacity for knowledge may be increased. Just so does the artist attempt to reveal aspects of beauty hitherto unperceived. When he furnishes what has been done before, what men have learned to enjoy and now demand, he is a professional workman and belongs in the preceding class. But a true artist explores phases of unacknowledged beauty. Having himself seen what others have not seen, he takes the risk of announcing it, certain that if it is comprehended he will open men’s eyes to fresh enjoyment. Rightly therefore do we hold artists and scientific men in high honor as enlargers of humanity. We see that altruism like theirs calls for risk and special disinterestedness. They are discoverers, going out into wide lands, far from sure what will