Welsh Journals

unity for which he pleads is one within which there is room for rich variety. It is a unity of differences, and the differences must not be denied any more than the unity. It is not dead, static unity. The Absolute is a process that never rests and is ever active, and finite objects are its processes. The Infinite is a unity which is in incessant movement, process, change. i feel that Sir Henry is not always consistent with him- self here. Sometimes it would appear as if the Absolute is reduced to its processes with no remainder, but sometimes it is said to transcend its processes and to be greater than they. But the emphasis on process and movement not only within but of the Absolute is most significant. Here he parts company again with his fellow-Hegelians Bradley and Bosanquet, whose Absolute is static, immobile, changeless, and he makes an unexpected approach towards Bergson's philosophy of change (though in the only passage in which he refers to "Bergsonian philosophers," he declares that his thought moves "in a direction directly opposite to theirs (p. 303), and even towards Professor Alex- ander the neo-realist's growing God. I am in- clined to think that Jones' idea of the Absolute as a movement from perfection to perfection, coming as it THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK. IF you have ever seen a meeting between two Welshmen who have not seen each other for twenty-five years, you will know how it was with Dick Jones and me. We shook hands for five minutes just like any two preachers saying good-bye, and we shouted at each other like schoolboys, Jim, it is you and Dick, it can't be you­-and yet it is and I, who am forty-two and stout, actually told Dick, who was forty-five and bald, that he had grown In twenty minutes he knew to a penny how much I had in the Bank, and in no less time I knew that his farm was his own, that it was a large one, that he kept two servants, that he was' married, that she was a bonny wife, that the boy was aged seven and had a shock of red hair and a crop of freckles. In a very short time I was eating a very hearty lunch, and had become the best friend of the family. During the afternoon we sat in the cool old parlour and talked of old days, of school-boy friends, and of the fun we had. A hot morning had given way to a blazing noon, and it was pleasant to sit just so watch- ing the world without. Now and again Mrs. Jones would slip in quietly and replenish our glasses with good home brew. We had so much to say to each other that the old grand-father clock wheezing out three came as a surprise to us both. "Hallo! I said. "Three already! I must keep an eye on that clock or I shall be missing my train. You have lots of time yet," remarked Mrs. Jones. The train does not go till five, and it's only ten minutes to the station." Are you sure it keeps proper time ? I asked. I have known a good many Welsh farm houses, and does from a Hegelian, is his most original and valu- able contribution to philosophy. It enables him to identify his Absolute with the God of religion, who is a self-conscious Person, yea, with the God ot Christianity, who is love. We have here a much more living and ethical God, one more akin to the postulates of normal religious experience, and farther removed from Pantheism, than we are accustomed to find within the school of Hegel. William James could scarcely complain that the universe of Henry Jones was a "block universe." And yet from another point of view, seeing that it is a universe in which there is no room for contingency, it is after all hard to distinguish from a block universe. Personally I am not quite satisfied with the treatment of the question of contin- gency in this book, but I have no room to develop the point. We cannot but be deeply grateful for these rich and stimulating lectures. Their primary and avowed aim is to appeal to the reason, but in addition to challenging the reason they warm and satisfy the heart. They will help to keep alive the memory of a great and beloved teacher, as well as to kindle fresh interest in the problems of truth and reality. By Howell Davies. not a few of them have this in common with eternity- that time is a matter of no consequence. Now do not worry about that," replied Dick. I have never known it more than a minute out during the last fifteen years. I never touch it." Except for summer time, of course," I added. Dick looked guiltily at his wife. She will not have it," he said, turning to me. I have never turned that old clock back or on, and I never will. It has always kept the Lord's time, and the Lord's time it shall keep, like a faithful servant-even if she has to die for it." (I could see from his wife that he was quoting). "Still, I suppose it ought to be four now by the station time. You can still stay another three quarters of an hour. We soon forgot the clock, and Mrs. Jones went into the next room. As soon as she was out of ear- shot my old friend bent confidentially towards me and whispered Not a word, mind she has just one little fault, and I've turned the clock on ten minutes to correct it." We laughed a little at this, and I understood. I am not unmarried myself. Still, it was getting a little confusing. The clock marked a quarter-past three. Add one hour, a quarter past four. Substract ten, five past four, or fifty minutes slow in all. Mrs. Jones came back and caught the hind end of the whispered calculation, but she took no notice beyond saying to me that she was sure Dick had been boring me with his old stories. Would I like to see the dairy ? "Ay," said Dick, "go and have a look at it," and he gave me a little nod as much as to say, She's a good little wife and sees most things, but not a word