is　an　Entity；　a　Soul…Entity；　as　yet　unrecognised。　These；　rudely　expressed；
  constitute　my　Fourth　Idea。　It　is　beyond；　or　beside；　the　three　discovered　by
  the　Cavemen；　it　is　in　addition　to　the　existence　of　the　soul；　in　addition　to
  immortality；　and　beyond　the　idea　of　the　deity。　I　think　there　is　something
  more　than　existence。
  There　is　an　immense　ocean　over　which　the　mind　can　sail；　upon　which　the
  vessel　of　thought　has　not　yet　been　launched。　I　hope
  to　launch　it。　The　mind　of　so　many　thousand　years　has　worked
  round　and　round　inside　the　circle　of　these　three　ideas　as　a
  boat　on　an　inland　lake。　Let　us　haul　it　over　the　belt　of　land；
  launch　on　the　ocean；　and　sail　outwards。
  There　is　so　much　beyond　all　that　has　ever　yet　been　imagined。
  As　I　write　these　words；　in　the　very　moment；　I　feel　that　the
  whole　air；　the　sunshine　out　yonder　lighting　up　the
  ploughed　earth；　the　distant　sky；　the　circumambient　ether；　and
  that　far　space；　is　full　of　soul…secrets；　soul…life；　things
  outside　the　experience　of　all　the　ages。　The　fact　of　my　own
  existence　as　I　write；　as　I　exist　at　this　second；　is　so
  marvellous；　so　miracle…like；　strange；　and　supernatural　to　me；
  that　I　unhesitatingly　conclude　I　am　always　on　the　margin　of　life
  illimitable；　and　that　there　are　higher　conditions　than
  existence。　　Everything　around　is　supernatural；　everything　so
  full　of　unexplained　meaning。
  Twelve　thousand　years　since　the　Caveman　stood　at　the　mouth　of　his　cavern　and
  gazed　out　at　the　night　and　the　stars。　He　looked　again　and　saw　the　sun　rise
  beyond　the　sea。　He　reposed　in　the　noontide　heat　under　the　shade　of　the
  trees；　he　closed　his　eyes　and　looked　into　himself。　　He　was　face　to　face　with
  the　earth；　the　sun；　the　night；　face　to　face　with　himself。　There　was　nothing
  between；　no　wall　of　written　tradition；　no　builtup　system　of
  culturehis　naked　mind　was　confronted　by　naked　earth。　He　made
  three　idea…discoveries；　wresting　them　from　the　unknown；　the
  existence　of　his　soul；　immortality；　the　deity。　Now；　to…day；　as
  I　write；　I　stand　in　exactly　the　same　position　as　the　Caveman。
  Written　tradition；　systems　of　culture；　modes　of　thought；　have
  for　me　no　existence。　If　ever　they　took　any　hold　of　my　mind　it
  must　have　been　very　slight；　they　have　long　ago　been　erased。
  》From　earth　and　sea　and　sun；　from　night；　the　stars；　from　day；
  the　trees；　the　hills；　from　my　own　soulfrom　these　I　think。　I
  stand　this　moment　at　the　mouth　of　the　ancient　cave；　face　to　face　with
  nature；　face　to　face　with　the　supernatural；　with　myself。　My　naked　mind
  confronts　the　unknown。　I　see　as　clearly　as　the　noonday　that　this　is　not　all；
  I　see　other　and　higher　conditions　than　existence；　I　see　not　only　the
  existence　of　the　soul；　immortality；　but；　in　addition；　I　realise　a　soul…life
  illimitable；　I　realise　the　existence　of　a　cosmos　of　thought；　I
  realise　the　existence　of　an　inexpressible　entity　infinitely
  higher　than　deity。　I　strive　to　give　utterance　to　a　Fourth　Idea。
  The　very　idea　that　there　is　another　idea　is　something　gained。
  The　three　found　by　the　Cavemen　are　but　steppingstones：　first
  links　of　an　endless　chain。　At　the　mouth　of　the　ancient　cave；
  face　to　face　with　the　unknown；　they　prayed。　Prone　in　heart　to…
  day　I　pray；　Give　me　the　deepest　soul…life。
  CHAPTER　IV
  THE　wind　sighs　through　the　grass；　sighs　in　the　sunshine；　it　has
  drifted　the　butterfly　eastwards　along　the　hill。　A　few　yards
  away　there　lies　the　skull　of　a　lamb　on　the　turf；　white　and
  bleached；　picked　clean　long　since　by　crows　and　ants。　Like　the
  faint　ripple　of　the　summer　sea　sounding　in　the　hollow　of　the
  ear；　so　the　sweet　air　ripples　in　the　grass。　The　ashes　of　the
  man　interred　in　the　tumuius　are　indistinguishable；　they　have
  sunk　away　like　rain　into　the　earth；　so　his　body　has　disappeared。
  I　am　under　no　delusion；　I　am　fully　aware　that　no　demonstration　can　be　given
  of　the　three　stepping…stones　of　the　Cavemen。　The　soul　is　inscrutable；　it　is
  not　in　evidence　to　show　that　it　exists；　immortality　is　not　tangible。　Full
  well　I　know　that
  reason　and　knowledge　and　experience　tend　to　disprove　all　three；
  that　experience　denies　answer　to　prayer。　I　am　under　no　delusion
  whatever；　I　grasp　death　firmly　in　conception　as　I　can　grasp　this
  bleached　bone；　utter　extinction；　annihilation。　That　the　soul　is
  a　product　at　best　of　organic　composition；　that　it　goes　out　like
  a　flame。　This　may　be　the　end；　my　soul　may　sink　like　rain　into
  the　earth　and　disappear。　Wind　and　earth；　sea；　and　night　and
  day；　what　then？　Let　my　soul　be　but　a　product；　what　then？　I　say　it　is　nothing
  to　me；　this　only　I　know；　that　while　I　have　livednow；　this　moment；　while　I
  liveI　think　immortality；　I　lift　my　mind　to　a　Fourth　Idea。　　If　I　pass　into
  utter　oblivion；　yet　I　have　had　that。
  The　original　three　ideas　of　the　Cavemen　became　encumbered　with
  superstition；　ritual　grew　up；　and　ceremony；　and　long　ranks　of
  souls　were　painted　on　papyri　waiting　to　be　weighed　in　the　scales；and　to　be
  punished　or　rewarded。　These　cobwebs　grotesque　have　sullied　the　original
  discoveries　and　cast　them
  into　discredit。　Erase　them　altogether；　and　consider　only　the　underlying
  principles。　The　principles　do　not　go　far　enough；　but　I　shall　not　discard　all
  of　them　for　that。　Even　supposing　the　pure　principles　to　be　illusions；　and
  annihilation　the　end；　even　then　it　is　betterit　is　something　gained　to　have
  thought　them。　Thought　is　life；　to　have　thought　them　is　to　have　lived　them。
  Accepting　two　of　them　as　true　in　principle；　then　I　say　that　these　are　but
  the　threshold。　For　twelve　thousand　years　no　effort
  has　been　made　to　get　beyond　that　threshold。　These　are　but　the　primer　of
  soul…life；　the　merest　hieroglyphics　chipped　out；　a　little　shape　given　to　the
  unknown。
  Not　to…morrow　but　to…day。　Not　the　to…morrow　of　the　tumulus；　the　hour　of　the
  sunshine　now。　This　moment　give　me　to　live　soul…life；　not　only　after　death。
  Now　is　eternity；　now　I　am　in　the
  midst　of　immortality；　now　the　supernatural　crowds　around　me。　Open　my　mind；
  give　my　soul　to　see；　let　me　live　it　now　on　earth；　while　I　hear　the　burring
  of　the　larger　bees；　the　sweet　air　in　the　grass；　and　watch　the　yellow　wheat
  wave　beneath　me。　Sun　and　earth　and　sea；　night　and　daythese　are　the　least
  of　things。　　Give　me　soul…life。
  There　is　nothing　human　in　nature。　The　earth；　though　loved　so　dearly；　would
  let　me　perish　on　the　ground；　and　neither　bring　forth　food　nor　water。　Burning
  in　the　sky　the　great　sun；　of　whose　company　I　have　been　so　fond；　would　merely
  burn　on　and　make　no　motion　to　assist　me。　Those　who　have　been　in　an　open　boat
  at　sea　without　water　have　proved　the　mercies　of　the　sun；　and
  of　the　deity　who　did　not　give　them　one　drop　of　rain；　dying
  in　misery　under　the　same　rays　that　smile　so　beautifully　on　the　flowers。　In
  the　south　the　sun　is　the　enemy；　night　and　coolness　and　rain　are　the　friends
  of　man。　As　for　the　sea；　it　offers　us　salt　water　which　we　cannot　drink。　The
  trees　care　nothing　for　us；　the　hill　I　visited　so　often　in　days　gone　by　has
  not　missed　me。　The　sun　scorches　man；　and　willing　his　naked　state　roast　him
  alive。　The　sea　and　the　fresh　water　alike　make　no　effort　to
  uphold　him　if　his　vessel　founders；　he　casts　up　his　arms　in　vain；　they　come
  to　their　level　over　his　head；　filling　the　spot　his　body　occupied。　If　he
  falls　from　a　cliff　the　air　parts；　the　earth　beneath　dashes　him　to　pieces。
  Water　he　can　drink；　but　it　is　not　produced　for　him；　how　many　thousands　have
  perished　for　want　of　it？　Some　fruits　are　produced　which　he　can　eat；　but　they
  do　not　produce　themselves　for　him；　merely　for　the　purpose　of　continuing
  their　species。　In　wild；　tropical　countries；　at　the　first　glance　there
  appears　to　be　some　consideration　for　him；　but　it　is　on　the　surface　only。　The
  lion　pounces　on　him；　the　rhinoceros　crushes　him；　the　serpent　bites；　insects
  torture；　diseases　rack　him。　Disease　worked　its　dreary　will　even　among　the
  flower…crowned　Polynesians。　Returning　to　our
  own　country；　this　very　thyme　which　scents　my　fingers　did　not　grow　for　that
  purpose；　but　for　its　own。　So　does　the　wheat　beneath；　we　utilise　it；　but　its
  original　and　native　purpose　was　for　itself。　By　night　it　is　the　same　as　by
  day；　the　stars　care　not；　they　pursue　their　courses　revolving；　and　we　are
  nothing　to　them。　There　is　nothing　human　in　the　whole　round　of　nature。
  All　nature；　all　the　universe　that　we　can　see；　is　absolutely　indifferent　to
  us；　and　except　to　us　human　life　is　of　no　more　value　than　grass。　If　the
  entire　human　race　perished　at　this　hour；　what　difference　would　it　make　to
  the
  earth？　　What　would　the　earth　care？　As　much　as　for　the　extinct　dodo；　or　for
  the　fate　of　the　elephant　now　going。
  On　the　contrary；　a　great　part；　perhaps　the　whole；　of　nature　and
  of　the　universe　is　distinctly　anti…human。　The　term　inhuman　does
  not　express　my　meaning；　anti…human　is　better；　outre…human；　in
  the　sense　of　beyond；　outside；　almost　grotesque　in　its　attitude
  towards；　would　nearly　convey　it。　Everything　is　anti…human。　How
  extraordinary；　strange；　and　incomprehensible　are　the　creatures
  captured　out　of　the　depths　of　the　sea！　The　distorted　fishes；　the　ghastly
  cuttles；　the　hideous　eel…like　shapes；　the　crawling　shell…encrusted　things；
  the　centipede…like　beings；　monstrous
  forms；　to　see　which　gives　a　shock　to　the　brain。　They　shock　the
  mind　because　they　exhibit　an　absence　of　design。　　There　is　no
  idea　in　them。
  T