There is an old saying that "Coming events cast their shadows before." If we let our thoughts dwell on the confused shadows which appear to be hanging over the spirit of our present civilization, it is possible to imagine that we can see in them the outlines of a coming event of the most profound importance. This would be neither more, nor less, than the birth of a new religion--or what amounts to the same thing, a new form of religious belief. What grounds are there for imagining such an absurdity? It is only a conjecture--it could not be anything else--but for all that, it is not necessarily an absurdity. The conflict which is going on between the old traditional beliefs and the advanced spirit of enlightenment has in it elements of contradiction, too deep and too radical, to permit of a complete victory on the part of either. If the struggle were to continue indefinitely, on the present lines, it seems inevitable that countless numbers must be found, on one extreme, who would never be willing to abandon their faith; and, on the other extreme, would be countless numbers who could never consent to a return to what they consider disproved and antiquated superstitions. And somewhere between these two, will be a constantly increasing mass of others, pushed and pulled in opposite directions, half-pretending agreement with both sides, but without real loyalty to either, trying in a more or less troubled way, to remain non-committal, and arriving at a state of indifference, drifting along, without leadership, or conviction. If we may believe the testimony of observers in England, this condition of affairs is already quite plainly indicated there--as much or more, as it is in this country. Such a situation is well nigh intolerable to humanity. The palpable results of it can hardly fail to be disheartening to any normal being. And out of this disheartenment will inevitably come a yearning, more or less unconscious, but more and more appealing, for something different and something better, a yearning for true and unquestionable leadership, which can inflame the imagination, inspire new faith, and command whole-souled devotion, as it points the way. In the mysterious scheme of the universe, in the all-wise design, when such a yearning becomes intense enough and widespread enough, I cannot but believe that somehow, somewhere, out of a tenement, or out of a palace, or out of the wilderness, will come the appointed leader. This is the fateful event of my conjecture, which I imagine is casting its shadow before, and which may bring a renewal of light and enthusiasm to millions of troubled souls. It may not come for a generation, or it may not come in a century, or it may be close at hand. What the particular form and force of the new inspiration will be like, is beyond the scope of the imagination.