The intuition, long held in abeyance until the intellect should be fully crowned and reach the zenith of its powers, is now coming to the front. It will be many centuries perhaps before it shall have grown to such proportions as those already attained by the intellect; perhaps a few thousand years may pass before the intuition shall have evolved to that point where it may labor as coadjutor to the intellect; but undoubtedly the time will come when it, too, shall reward the Thinker's labors with that which shall be more precious than the crown of gold which the intellect has won. Then, the intellect, grown old and decrepit with years of reigning shall become dim and crystal-shaped and finally pass into automatism or reflexive movements where without the urge of volitional impulses it will perform with exactness, precision and utter loyalty the tasks which it has learned so well to execute in the days of its forgotten glory. Mankind will then be free. A new freedom, wherein the erstwhile lightning flashes of intuition will become fused into one glorious sheen of all-revealing light, shall come to men and thus the race resplendent will walk the earth enshrined in the majesty of divine powers attained as a result of millions of years of aspiration. That there are supersensuous realms so far above the range of our senses as to be entirely beyond their ken needs now no proof or argument; for the scientist has demonstrated, by the invention of instruments of extreme delicacy and precision, that such a world does really exist. Already we know of stars so distant that, though light traverses in the brief space of an hour six hundred million miles, they might have ceased to shine before the pyramids were built and yet be visible to us in the skies. If the human eye were as sensitive as the spectroscope many thousand tints and shades might be added to the world of color; if they possessed the magnifying powers of the microscope we should live in constant terror and awe of the monstrous entities that teem in the water which we drink and in the air which we breathe; and if our ears could detect the microphonic vibrations which register in the delicate apparatus of some microphones the dead, vacuum-stillness of nature's great silences would appear as a babel of voices by the seaside. The sense of touch, responding to the same range of vibrations as the micrometer, would reveal actually the interstices between particles of the densest elements; and gold, silver, platinum and mercury would seem but honeycombs of matter. But, to the forward-looking there is no element of absurdity in the expectation that all these senses shall, one day, be able to dispense with the artificial aid of physical apparatus and perform, with even greater precision and faithfulness, the task which they now perform so crudely and ineffectively. There are without doubt vibrations of taste and smell which are so far above the range of these senses that they have