And because in my heart is a flowing no hour can bind Because through the wrongs of the world looking forth and behind I find for my thoughts not a close, not an end, With you will I follow, nor crave the strength of the strong Nor a fortress of time to enshield me from storms that rend. This is life, this is home, to be poured as a stream as a song. This is quoted not only because it represents the poetical realization of Bergson's message, but because it points to one reason why the charge of pessimism has been brought against Bergson even in this connection. If only progress is our home, if there be no stability, how is that permanence of values to be achieved which Höffding declares to be the essential axiom of religion? We may love our faithful dog, but according to Bergson it represents an evolutionary blind alley. We may create as we will, but we shall survive our creations. Here, after all, is at the best a tempered optimism. No reunions are promised in the Bergsonian paradise. Only a perpetual streaming that does not, so far as Bergson has yet told us (and that is an important point) ever wind safely home to sea. Instinct and Intelligence Clarence Darrow recently echoed that high estimate of instinct at the expense of intelligence which has been the fashion since Bergson. Some of these days, when that case has been overstated often enough, there will be a return swing of that pendulum. The instinctive wasp who, in order to paralyze it, knows how to sting a caterpillar "as though she knew its anatomy" may not always seem in all respects superior to the human surgeon who does actually know anatomy and can apply that knowledge in a thousand ways--versus the wasp's one. Some day it will strike some one that no creature has an instinct against poison comparable in delicacy, subtlety, and fullness with a chemist's noninstinctive, intelligent knowledge of poisons--and nonpoisons. So with a number of things. The pragmatic objection to our present glorification of instinct is that it tends to become a glorification of intellectual whim.--George Cram Cook in _The Chicago Evening Post_. The Jewels of a Lapidary _Emerson's Journals_, Volume IX, 1856-1863. (Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston.)