a mystery, and are there not trance-like moments
when suddenly we ask ourselves, why a _colored_ world, why a _blue_ sky,
and _green_ grass, why not _vice versa_, or why any color at all?"

Mr. Le Gallienne is evidently prepared to stand aghast at the fact that
twice two make four. Why _always_ four? Why not three to-day and seven
to-morrow? Yea, and echo answers, Why?

Here is another illustration of "mystery"--

"Science can tell us that oxygen and hydrogen will unite under certain
conditions to produce water, but it cannot tell us why they do so; the
mystery of their affinity is as dark as ever."

Mr. Le Gallienne has a whole chapter on the Relative Spirit, yet his
"long and ardent thought" does not enable him to see that he is
himself a slave of metaphysics. All this "mystery" is nothing but the
"meat-roasting power of the meat-jack." He question of _why_ oxygen and
hydrogen form water is a prompting of anthropomorphism. Intellectually,
it is simply childish. It could only be put by one who has _not_ grasped
the great doctrine of the Relativity of Knowledge. Man can no more get
beyond his own knowledge--which is and ever must be finite--than he can
get outside himself, or run away from his own shadow.

"The sacred mystery of motherhood," of which Mr. Le Gallienne speaks,
is a pretty expression. It may pass in the realm of poetry, with the
"everlasting hills" and the "eternal sea," which are but transient
phenomena in the infinite existence of the universe. The "mystery" of
human motherhood is no greater than the "mystery" of any other form of
reproduction, while its "sacredness" depends on circumstances; the term,
in short, being a compendium of a great variety of personal and social
feelings, which may or may not be present in any particular case. What
becomes of the "sacred mystery of motherhood" when a poor servant girl
brings her child into the world unaided, and casts it into the Thames?
What becomes of it when violation takes the place of seduction, and a
woman bears a child to a man she loathes and hates?

"Mystery," like other words we inherit from the theological and
metaphysical stages, is only fit for use in poetry; it is out of place
in science or philosophy; and we advise Mr. Le Gallienne to get a
comprehension of this truth before he takes fresh excursions in the
"realm of long and ardent thought." The subjective ideas of poetry
cease to be admirable and stimulating when they are projected into t