Welsh Journals

marks of a careful and balanced mind. The in- troduction of Lotze's Place in the History of Philosophy, and the final chapter on Lotze's Achievement and Influence, though not easy to follow in parts, are both distinctly good. The book is, on the whole, difficult reading. It is certainly not one to take up in a light and leisurely mood. Even the student of Philosophy, not to say the general reader, will need to apply concentration to follow the course of the discus- sion. This trait is to be accounted for, in part, by the character of Lotze's mentality and by his method of treating philosophical problems. He was an eminently cautious thinker and fair critic, chary of dogmatic affirmations, anxious to do justice to the views of opposing schools and to recognise any elements of value he found in them. Except in the case of a few fundamental con- victions, he would not unfrequently retrace his steps and revise or qualify positions which he had previously established. This method of pro- cedure, which Dr. Thomas faithfully and rightly reproduces in his exposition, though embarrass- ing to the reader, is evidence that Lotze con- ducted his investigations with great thoroughness and from all available points of view. Owing to the limits which the author had im- posed upon himself, his treatment of Lotze's Theory of Thought had to be restricted to two chapters (X., XI.). And it was perhaps in- evitable that these should be less lucid and effective than the remaining parts. The reader who may desire to obtain a more extensive The Deserted Christ. By Howell Davies. WHERE the cart tracks cross on the open moor there is a small, low-built hovel. The walls are of mud, a dirty grey in colour. They bulge outwards or sink inwards in unexpected places, seeming to stagger unsteadily under the weight of the red-tiled roof. The lathe-work ribs of the four walls show in places. The door, which is always shut, has no knob on the outside, and hangs by a broken hinge. There are two small windows. The one on the right of the door is always shuttered; it is the bedroom window. The panes in the other window are cobwebbed and dirty. One pane is broken, and the hole is stuffed with a rag. A woman lives at the house. She sells coffee and black bread to the carters who pass that way. They generally stay a long time. At the meeting of the tracks, a short distance away from the house, there is a cross, and on the cross a wooden figure of the outstretched Christ. One day late in November, Simeon came out account of this side of Lotze's philosphy and from a somewhat different standpoint may be referred to Sir Henry Jones' treatise. Readers who are interested in Theology, es- pecially in the Ritschlian development, will find the last two chapters particularly interesting and profitable. Lotze's conception of value-judg- ments had great influence in shaping the theological positions of Ritschl and his followers. Dr. Thomas's criticism of some of the character- istic principles of this School, which in recent years has wielded considerable influence in this country, appears to us to be important and sound. The author's general attitude towards Lotze's teaching might almost be described as one of benevolent neutrality, or of qualified acceptance. He does not reveal his own philosophical position. He is probably working his way towards one And his criticisms are not directed from the standpoint of any one particular school. Dr. Thomas writes in a style of his own, characterised bv a certain rugged strength. The statement would not unfrequently gain by sim- plification, and an unfamiliar, if not ungainly, expression is used on occasion. But these are minor blemishes in a work of distinct value. We understand that this is the author's first pub- lished work. We congratulate him very cordially on his achievement, and we trust that the cure of souls which he exercises may leave him sufficient leisure to make further important con- tributions to philosophical thought. of the mist to the meeting of the roads, and stared up at the great figure overhead. He could not see very distinctly. His old eyes were film- ing and the fog was thick. He strained his neck up to see better, and was suddenly shaken by a fit of coughing. "Ay, it's my last winter," he mumbled to himself. There will be no more Spring for me. I wonder how far away the padre lives, and who stays in that house." He dragged his old legs slowly towards the hovel. He talked loudly to himself. Och, but my back hurts. There will be no more Spring for me .that rheumatism I am old, too old for my work." The pots of paint oppressed him with their weight. His feet were sore and his boots sodden. He had come a long way over the rough cart track-waterlogged after the rain. He thumped upon the door with his fist. Someone moved inside, but no one came to the door. He wished the farmer had not told him about this Cross. He had never been here before. It was not necessary. Why hadn't he stuck to his regular round of crosses. He was so tired and so old. He thumped again, a little angrily.