continues Mr. Mozley, 'of the inductive
principle, the argument from experience, the belief in the order of
nature--by whatever phrase we designate the same instinct--is to
operate as a practical basis for the affairs of life and the carrying
on of human society.' To sum up, the belief in the order of nature is
general, but it is 'an unintelligent impulse, of which we can give no
rational account.' It is inserted into our constitution solely to
induce us to till our fields, to raise our winter fuel, and thus to
meet the future on the perfectly gratuitous supposition that it will
be like the past.

'Thus, step by step,' says Mr. Mozley, with the emphasis of a man who
feels his position to be a strong one, 'has philosophy loosened the
connection of the order of nature with the ground of reason,
befriending in exact proportion as it has done this the principle of
miracles.' For 'this belief not having itself a foundation in reason,
the ground is gone upon which it could be maintained that miracles, as
opposed to the order of nature, are opposed to reason.' When we regard
this belief in connection with science, 'in which connection it
receives a more imposing name, and is called the inductive principle,'
the result is the same. 'The inductive principle is only this
unreasoning impulse applied to a scientifically ascertained fact...
Science has led up to the fact; but there it stops, and for converting
this fact into a law, a totally unscientific principle comes into
play, the same as that which generalises the commonest observation of
nature.'

The eloquent pleader of the cause of miracles passes over without a
word the _results_ of scientific investigation, as proving anything
rational regarding the principles or method by which such results have
been achieved. Here, as elsewhere, he declines the test, 'By their
fruits shall ye know them.' Perhaps our best way of proceeding will be
to give one or two examples of the mode in which men of science apply
the unintelligent impulse with which Mr. Mozley credits them, and
which shall show, by illustration, the surreptitious method whereby
they climb from the region of facts to that of laws.

Before the sixteenth century it was known that water rises in a pump;
the effect being then explained by the maxim that 'Nature abhors a
vacuum.' It was not known that there was any limit to the height to
which the water would ascend, until, on one occasion, the gardeners of
Florence,