But why do we say that an even-sided disk, thrown at hap-hazard, is as likely to fall head up as it is to fall tail up? Because observation in the past has taught us that such is the case. We may reason subsequently about momentum, gravity, and the like, but observation lies at the bottom of our knowledge. Very well. The sun rose this morning. I know that. What is the chance of its rising tomorrow morning? If I know nothing but what I have stated, the chance, from my point of view, is as one to one. The odds are even, nothing more. It is just as likely not to rise as it is to rise. From the standpoint of an Omnipotent God, this is not the case. He knows whether it is going to rise or not. To God there is indeed no chance. But to mankind at large? Surely the chances of the sun rising tomorrow are better than even? To be sure they are. For mankind at large knows not only that the sun rose yesterday morning, but the morning before that, and on ever so many other mornings. How many? Upon the answer to this question rests the actual chance of its rising again, for the answer shows the amount of our knowledge. The more knowledge, the more certain the chance. Let us say we know that the sun has risen for a billion mornings. Tomorrow, if there be a tomorrow, will mark a billion and one. Then there are a billion and one events, or sunrises, under consideration, and only one of them is still in doubt. The chances of the sun’s rising tomorrow are therefore a billion to one. If we know it has already risen a trillion times, they are a trillion to one. As knowledge increases, certainty approaches. I have heard it objected that, according to this theory, the chance of a one-year-old child to live another year must be only even, while a man of 99 has 99 chances in a hundred of rounding out his century. This would indeed be true if we knew nothing about either babes or nonogenarians but their years. But we have a great deal of other information--statistics--bills of health. We must put all of our knowledge into the calculation.