their exasperating amateurishness have probably done more than the elaborate arguments of specialized Intellect to shoo away some of the many Chimæras, Entities, and Essences, which, as Rabelais already remarked, had gone on _bombinating in vacuo_ through the resounding spaciousness of philosophy and science, leaving behind only the fainter buzz of _Historical and Economic Laws_, _Entelechies_, _Teleologies_ and _Vital Elans_. It was, I take it, Intelligence which first scoffed in Molière’s play at opium’s _Virtus Dormitiva_.... At this point a parenthesis must be opened on account of a reader asking, not impertinently, whether what I have been talking of under the name of Intelligence is not plain _Common Sense_. Yes; but also _No_. Since, on behalf of practicality, Common Sense usually warns us off from just such questions as Intelligence should deal with. So one might say that Intelligence is a kind of Common Sense, but applied to uncommon (not common or garden!) subjects, and as yet, alas, only by rather uncommon people. If Proteus be taken to represent that Reality which all save metaphysicians believe to be real, he represents especially that half of it which I have (elsewhere) called _Otherness_, that is to say, whatever is not _ourself_. And just as the essential, unshareable _ourself_ is what we feel, to wit: moods, passions, efforts, hope and fear, liking and disliking; so the _not-ourself_ (other persons as well as other things, and even our own personalities when viewed as if they were not our own)――the _Otherness_ in short, is, on the contrary, _seen_, because it is outside us. Seen by the mental eye of Intelligence, which, like the bodily one, moves in every direction and focuses to all distances, thereby informing us of the proportions and relations of whatever is not ourself, and following step by step the actions which are not our own. And though it must borrow the lenses of Science (which centuries of thinkers cut and polished) before it can know things in their microscopic detail or their astronomical remoteness, yet with no aid save everyday experience, Intelligence suffices to teach us the most important and most overlooked fact concerning that Reality which is _Otherness_: namely, that it has ways of its own and does not exist merely to suit our likings. The habit of taking “otherness” into account, and a wider and wider circle thereof, might serve as a rough test of Intelligence and of its progress: young children, as is notorious, referring everything to themselves; and “uneducated” people, from the narrowness of their knowledge, rarely conceiving anything beyond their own personal experience. At the risk of incurring the same criticism, I hazard my own impression that the dominance of possessive pronouns, the restriction of interest to one’s own history and circle of acquaintances, has become less usual among “educated” persons.