agreement, which is, that some being or beings, superior to it and men, produced it. And, except perhaps among the most degraded, the more subtle notion of a final cause, though often developed in a crude form, is associated with the other. These notions must be accounted for. How shall it be done? Are they the result of experience? Then, the first human beings had no such notions. But another and more palpable objection arises. Are they the result of individual experience? Then there would be as many religions as individuals. But, very ignorant people have the experience,--persons who never learned anything but the rudest forms of work, from the accumulated experience of others; nor by their own experience, to make the smallest improvement in a simple agricultural instrument. How, then, could they learn by experience one of the profoundest speculative ideas? As a last resort, it may be said they were taught it by philosophers. But this is negatived by the fact, that philosophers do not, to any considerable extent, teach the people, either immediately or mediately; but that generally those who have the least philosophy have the largest influence. And what is most in point, none of these hypotheses will account for the fact, that the gist of the idea, however crude its form, is everywhere the same. Be it a Fetish, or Brahm, or God, in the kernel final cause will be found. It would seem that any candid mind must acknowledge that no combined effort of men, were this possible, could secure such universal exactitude. But turn now and examine any individual in the same direction, as we did just above, respecting the question of right and wrong, and a plain answer will come directly. The notion of first cause, however crude and rudimentary its form, is organic. It arises, then, spontaneously, and the individual takes it--"the one,"--and in it finds a reason for the phenomena of nature--"the many,"--and is satisfied. And this is an experience not peculiar to the philosopher; but is shared equally by the illiterate,--those entirely unacquainted with scientific abstractions. These illustrations might be carried to an almost indefinite length, showing that commonly, in the every-day experiences of life, men are accustomed not only to observe phenomena and form conclusions, as "It is cloudy to-day, and may rain to-morrow," but also to measure phenomena by an original and fixed standard, as, "This man is malicious, and therefore wicked." Between the two modes of procedure, the following distinction may always be observed. Conclusions are always doubtful, only probable. Decisions are always certain. Conclusions give us what may be, decisions what must be. The former result from concepts and experience, the latter from intuitions and logical processes. Thus is made plain the fact that, to give it the most favorable aspect, Sir William Hamilton, in his eagerness to maintain his theory, has entirely