There is much to be said for some form of doctrine of a common psychological basis or union of minds—some kind of Anima Mundi, some World-Mind, of which we are all fragments, and to which all knowledge is in a manner accessible; but the analogy of ocean ripples or icebergs need not be pressed to support the idea of a cessation of individual existence, when a given ripple or a given iceberg subsides. All analogies fail at some point. The ocean analogy happens to suggest indistinguishable absorption, or Nirvana, but others do not. The parts of a jelly are linked together and vibrate as a whole, but each little sac of fluid is partitioned off as an individual entity; in touch with all the rest, but with a texture and a colour of its own. Continued personality, persistent individual existence, cannot be predicated of things which do not possess personality or individuality or character: but, to things which do possess these attributes, continuity and persistence not only may, but must, apply; unless we are to suppose that actual existence suddenly ceases. There must be a conservation of character; notwithstanding the admitted return of the individual to a central store or larger self, from which a portion was differentiated and individualised for the brief period during which the planet performs some seventy of its innumerable journeys round the sun. Absorption in original source may mask, but need not destroy, identity. Even so a villager, picked out as a recruit and sent to the seat of war, may serve his country, may gain experience, acquire a soul and a width of horizon such as he had not dreamt of; and when he returns, after the war is over, may be merged as before in his native village. But the village is the richer for his presence, and his individuality or personality is not really lost; though to the eye of the world, which has no further need for it, it has practically ceased to be. The character and experience gained by us during our brief association with the matter of this planet, become our possession henceforth for ever. We cannot shake ourselves free of them, even if we would: the enlargement of ideas, the growth in knowledge, the acquisition of friendships, the skill and power and serviceableness attained by us through this strange experience of incarnation, all persist as part and parcel of our larger self; and so do the memories of failure, of shame, of cruelty, of sin, which we have acquired here. To glory in these last things is damnation: the best that they can bring to us is pain and undying remorse—their worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched. There is no way out, save by the way of mercy and grace; whereby we are assured that at last, in the long last, we may ultimately attain to pardon and peace.