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in the land of Bengal, if anywhere on the face of the civilised earth, the doubts and misgivings that beset human life at its best might permanently harden into the belief that life is a sorry affair. Hindu literature that comes from these lands shows us that the Aryans did not succumb to this change, for they remain a great and remarkable people. But this habitat of theirs unquestionably left an indelible impression on their character. The mental subtleness of the race did not perish, but their bodies suffered; hypochondria, melancholia, dyspepsia — call it what we may — conquered the conquering Aryan, whose stock was no doubt the product of a more northerly and invigorating climate.

Now it is time to remember once more that the conception of the One True Being — let us now call it Brahma — had risen to a considerable height, apparently long before the doctrine of transmigration had taken hold of the Hindu mind, and established in it the theory of despair of the world. Even aside from such a theory it is natural for the mind of man in every clime and time to evolve some great power that is behind the phenomena of the world, to establish to its own satisfaction some sort of perfect principle that is underneath this obviously imperfect world, and then to long for some kind of association with that power or principle. So teach us all higher