reckoned in some distant Future an intellectual entertainment fit for cads. Such are a few of the improvements one might foresee in our intellectual manners. Allied with these is one which appertains to our intellectual morals. In another book[2] I have written at some length against the survival of the lawyer’s and politician’s arts of _Persuasion_, and of the priestly arts of _Exhortation_ and _Denunciation_, both sets of them intended to influence men to think, feel and act differently from how they would otherwise do, but in compliance with the persuasive person’s wishes. Some day or other such attempts may be accounted impertinent where they fail, and dishonest where they succeed; they and the sway of words should constitute a chapter of intellectual morals. [2] _The Handling of Words._ Returning to mere intellectual _manners_, I think intellectual prize fights, duels and _vendettas_, such as wasted half the life of the greatest intellects from Abélard to Samuel Butler, are a little going out of fashion, like the quarrels for precedence we read about in _Herbert of Cherbury_ and such-like: they stop the traffic, make a noise and, after a minute, bore us! Moreover, I fancy I see a reason why, let alone mere spectators of such frays, even those who might have been principals in them will refrain and call them ill-mannered. I mean that, as people grow more intelligent, or more people grow intelligent at all, we shall discover other opportunities for exercising intellectual energy and for obtaining the thrill and uplift of intellectual prowess. There will appear other adversaries to wrestle with and circumvent: _Things_, _Reasons why_, the Universe’s riddles; not any longer mere other people trying to make us write ourselves down asses as we try to make them. The finest sport in all the world is hunting Proteus.... Nor will I let myself be heckled with the objection that joys like these are reserved for minds like yours and mine, dear reader, minds _Creative_.... As if books, pictures, policies, opinions, etc., etc., were created _ex nihilo_, obeying that august _fiat_ which evolutional philosophy has filched from the old Creator of all things to bestow on every member of the Intelligentsia. No, no, the joys I speak of are unprofessional. And the chief creative joy is that of understanding and appreciating; say the joy of every deserving reader outrunning the straight path of the writer in circles like those of a dog pleased to be taken a walk.