only upon
the person to whom it was addressed, but through him on many others as
it is passed on in widening circles, until it seems to have affected
the whole country; and one glimpse of such a vision is far more
efficient than any number of moral precepts in impressing upon us the
necessity of extreme circumspection in thought, word, and deed. Not
only can we from that plane see thus fully the result of every action,
but we can also see where and in what way the results of other actions
apparently quite unconnected with it will interfere with and modify
it. In fact, it may be said that the results of all causes at present
in action are clearly visible--that the future, as it would be if no
entirely new causes should arise, lies open before our gaze.

New causes of course do arise, because man's will is free; but in the
case of all ordinary people the use which they will make of their
freedom can be calculated beforehand with considerable accuracy. The
average man has so little real will that he is very much the creature
of circumstances; his action in previous lives places him amid certain
surroundings, and their influence upon him is so very much the most
important factor in his life-story that his future course may be
predicted with almost mathematical certainty. With the developed man
the case is different; for him also the main events of life are
arranged by his past actions, but the way in which he will allow them
to affect him, the methods by which he will deal with them and perhaps
triumph over them--these are all his own, and they cannot be foreseen
even on the mental plane except as probabilities.

Looking down on man's life in this way from above, it seems as though
his free will could be exercised only at certain crises in his career.
He arrives at a point in his life where there are obviously two or
three alternative courses open before him; he is absolutely free to
choose which of them he pleases, and although some one who knew his
nature thoroughly well might feel almost certain what his choice would
be, such knowledge on his friend's part is in no sense a compelling
force.

But when he _has_ chosen, he has to go through with it and take the
consequences; having entered upon a particular path he may, in many
cases, be forced to go on for a very long way before he has any
opportunity to turn aside. His position is somewhat like that of the
driver of a train; when he comes to a junction he may have the