de that mankind will not for long be content
to do altogether without religion; a need for something more than bread
alone being ingrained in his nature. Thus even the professedly
materialistic societies try to afford something in the way of religious
exercises. I have recently seen a notice of one of the so-called Ethical
Societies in which the members (at their meetings, I take it) are
"requested to silently meditate for five minutes on the good life."[22]
It would seem to be quite as beneficial and more practical to meditate
on split infinitives. A substitute for religion has to be found; what is
it to be? In the years before the war Mr. Masefield published a very
interesting book called _Multitude and Solitude_, which narrates the
trials and troubles of two young Englishmen who make a perilous journey
to Africa in search of the secret of the sleeping-sickness. In all their
trials they never seem to have thought of prayer, in which it may be
assumed they did not believe, but when they returned to England it
occurred to one of them that there was something wanting in their life,
and he propounded to his friend the view that "the world is just coming
to see that science is not a substitute for religion," which is one of
the things urged in this paper. He then proceeded to the rather
startling conclusion that science _is_ "religion of a very deep and
austere kind." One is reminded of a well-known passage in the Bible:
"_Inveni et aram in qua scriptum erat_ IGNOTO DEO." To set up science as
an "unknown God" seems a curious choice, even more curious than the
choice of humanity, which--pitiable object as it is--was at least made
in the image of God. Not to pile up instance upon instance, let us
content ourselves with remembering that Mr. Wells, who in his earlier
novels had certainly not displayed any marked affection for religion, in
the last published before the war (_Marriage_) brings his hero face to
face with the great realities, and makes him exclaim to his wife that he
may "die a Christian yet," and urge upon her the need for prayer, if
only out into the darkness. Of course, as all the reading world knows,
since the war commenced, Mr. Wells has set up his own altar "IGNOTO
DEO," not with much more satisfactory results than those attained by Mr.
Masefield. It is an historical fact that times of war have also been
times of religious awakening, and it is natural that they should be so,
for even the most careless must be