We have learnt a lesson as we followed the men of science from step to step, and heard nature respond to their questions with intelligible answers. We have learnt that, so far as it has been examined, the universe, like ourselves, is rational and has a history. It moves, changes, grows; it is real and its history is real too. And though science is not concerned with its meaning, we are. We hold fast to our science, but we care for more than science. We cannot help it, for we are aware of meaning in ourselves; as the man of science is when he is not being only scientific. We are aware too of purpose and of values; we are aware of making and shaping and creating; we know what it is to choose and direct, to arrange and rearrange, to produce novelty. Both sides of our knowledge and our caring, the scientific side and the personal side, make a difficulty for us in regard to the philosophers with whom we shall put ourselves to school. Our chosen teachers must reckon with life as we know and possess it in ourselves; but they must reckon too with every word of the scientific man. Nothing less will content us now. The philosophers we shall follow must not be playing a game among themselves, using thoughts like pieces on a board, to be moved according to rules they have laid down. Neither must they resolve the great drama of real things and real history into a phantasmagoria of mind; nor try to educe mind, consciousness, the spiritual activities of man, from the interplay of parts of a material machine. In our view both the material and the spiritual are real. It is for the philosopher, so we think, to show us the real relation between them. To do him justice, the philosopher has been thoroughly aroused of late years to the importance of reckoning with science. Consequently he draws to his side thinking ordinary men as they have perhaps never been drawn before, except when Socrates at Athenian banquets and in Athenian streets 'made himself a fool that others by his folly might be made wise.' We have no difficulty now in finding a philosopher, indeed many philosophers, to our mind. Philosophy is alive, sitting at our banquets, walking in our streets, even writing books that ordinary men, living each his own extraordinary life, can read. We are able to call in our philosopher, then, as we have called in the bio-chemist, knowing him to be one who reckons to the full with science, that he may tell us what he can and will concerning life and living.