that the science, for just what it is, has been applied, making the life just what it is. Are scientific technique with its aloofness and logical abstractions and a life that in its own special, affairs can be only conventional and ritualistic, or say routine in the study or the laboratory and routine in the church or market-place, are these so different as really to be, whatever the appearances, independent and distinct? They may count as two for being in just so many different places, but the man, scientist or practitioner, is always necessarily with himself, and in this sense never in more than one place, so that in character and value the two routines are one and the same. Moreover, the ennui which together they are sure to induce must end sooner or later in a common cry for help, in a passion for reality that will turn each toward the other with an irresistible appeal. Once more, then, there is danger for science not merely in the interference, but in the obstinate independence of the scientific and the volitional point of view. A protected science may have no less, but also it has no more justification than a protected industry. Competition with life and will may often bring science low, degrading its methods and impairing its professional success, but protection involves at least equal risks. Professor Münsterberg--but may he forgive me my Homeric epithets--is a too zealous epistemologic protectionist. The difficulty as to the agnosticism of science may be presented in another way. Dismissing all thought [p.120] of either interference or divorce and all thought of the scientist forgetting his agnosticism or taking it too soberly, we may say that the scientific agnostic, being under the spell of the scientific way of dealing with things, is disposed to treat the unknowable as if it were but one more thing or fact among all the other things or facts with which he is wont to deal. The world for him is then composed of two departments or groups, which like a good scientist he classifies and labels, the knowable and the unknowable; and nothing could be simpler or more natural. Though the point of what follows may be lost in its appearance of mere wordiness, so to speak, the world of his interest, of his formal knowledge, includes, among the other things, that which he knows to be unknowable, and with the inclusion and the knowledge of unknowability he imagines his responsibility to the unknowable both to begin and end. Or, again, the agnostic scientist regards the unknowable as something apart from the knowable, as something not for him to know and also not having any vital, intrinsic relations to what he does know, but something nevertheless objectively presentable to a creature with knowing faculties altogether different from his. The unknowable is thus for him still the object of a looking and thinking consciousness, yet never of his looking and thinking consciousness; it is knowable, and formally