emplation' of a knower. But, of course, if Philosophy is ever to
attack its final problem, we must take into account two things which we
have so far ignored. The 'whole story of everything' includes the
knowing intelligence itself as well as the 'objects' which present
themselves to its gaze. Indeed, it is not even accurate to speak as if
'objects' 'presented themselves' to a merely passive intelligence; to be
apprehended, they have to be actively attended to. If we would see them,
we have to be on the look-out for them. And the knowing intelligence is
not aware merely of these objects. It is also aware of itself, though
it is certainly never a 'presented object'. Also, it is not only a
knower but a doer and a maker. Intelligence is shown as much in the
ordering of life by a rule based on a right valuation of goods and in
the making of things of beauty as in the discovery of propositions about
what is. Hence, we can hardly be content to leave the 'positive'
sciences and the 'sciences of values' simply standing over against one
another. There is that which 'is', and there is that which 'ought to
be', and, at first sight at any rate, the two seem very different. Much
that is--ignorance, sin, misery, ugliness--ought not to be, and much
that ought to be is very far from being fact. We are accustomed to
regard this as a matter of course, but, closely considered, it is
perhaps the supreme wonder of all the wonders. We creatures of
circumstance, as we call ourselves, can take stock of the sum of things
to which we belong, and judge it. It is not simply that we can, and
often do, _wish_ that it were different in various ways; we can judge
that it _ought_ to be different, and you may find a man of science like
Huxley, after a life spent in trying to understand the laws which
prevail in the world, deliberately making it his last word to his
fellows that their duty is to set themselves to reverse the 'cosmic
process', to select for preservation just the human types which, if the
much-abused metaphor may be tolerated, Nature, left to herself, selects
for destruction.

We might, of course, regard this apparently unreconcilable conflict
between the arrangements which do prevail; as is commonly supposed, in
the world, and those which ought to prevail, as a mystery which we must
despair of ever understanding. But, to say the least of it, it is hardly
consistent with the philosophic temper to treat any question as an
insoluble riddle un