It is only in periods of transition and reconstruction, like the present age, when men have become acutely sensible of the limitations of traditional views of things, that they are inclined in their disappointment to look to scientific and professional thinkers for creeds that shall take the place of what they seem for the moment to be losing. It is in such times chiefly that philosophy flourishes, and that it is apt to acquire an undue importance by being called upon to do things that of itself it cannot do. Among the latter impossibilities is to be placed, for example, the idea of its being able to offer (almost in any sense) a substitute for the direct experience[314] of the common life, or for the realities of our affections and our emotions, or for the ideals engendered by the common life. Owing partly to the limitations of the Intellectualism that has hitherto characterized so much of the culture and the educational policy of the last century there are still everywhere scores of people under the illusion that the truth of life will be revealed to them in the theory of some book, in the new views or the new gospel of some emancipated and original thinker. In this vain hope of theirs they are obviously forgetful of even the pragmatist truth that all theories are but a kind of transformation, or abstract expression, of the experiences of real life and of real living. And part of the trouble with the pragmatists is that they themselves have unwittingly ministered to this mistaken attitude of mind by creating the impression that their theory of taking the kingdom of Heaven by storm, by the violence of their postulations and of their plea for a “working view” of things, is indeed the new gospel of which men have long been in search. The race, however, is not always to the swift and the eager, nor the kingdom to those who are loudest in their cryings of “Lord, Lord.” And as a friend of mine aptly applied it as against all practicalism and Pragmatism, “there remaineth a rest to the people of God.”[315] The ordinary man, it should be borne in mind, does not in a certain sense really need philosophy. Its audience is with the few, and it is to do it but scant service to think of making it attractive to the many by the obliteration of most of its distinctive characteristics and difficulties, and by the failure to point out its inherent limitations. It is not by any means, as we have been indicating, a substitute either for life, or for positive religion. Nor can it ever have much of a message, even for the few, if they imagine themselves, on account of their wisdom, to be elevated above the needs of the ordinary discipline of life.