is fitted to his new surroundings, his immensely wider life, and finds his superior companions and surroundings fitted to him, even to his finest need for love.  Why hesitate for a third mode of life?  He loses modes of nourishment; so he has before.  He loses relations to former life; so he has before.  He comes into new companionships and surroundings; so he has before.  But each time and in every respect his powers, possibilities, and field have been immensely enlarged.

  O the hour when this material
    Shall have vanished like a cloud,
  When amid the wide ethereal
    All the invisible shall crowd. 
  In that sudden, strange transition,
    By what new and finer sense
  Shall we grasp the mighty vision,
    And receive the influence?

Knowledge of the third state of man is not so difficult to attain in the second as knowledge of the second was in the first.  If a fit intelligence should study a specimen of man about to emerge from its first stage of existence, it could judge much of the conditions of the second.  Feet suggest solid land; lungs suggest liquid air; eyes, light; hands, acquisitiveness, and hence dominion; tongue, talk, and hence companions, etc.  What fore-gleams have we of the future life?  They are from two sources—­revelation and present aptitudes not yet realized.  What feet have we for undiscovered continents, what wings for wider and finer airs, what eyes for diviner light?  Everything tells us that such aptitudes have fit field for development.  The water fowl flies through night and storm, lone wandering but not lost, straight to the south with instinct for mild airs, food, and a nest among the rushes.  It is not disappointed.

Man has an instinct for dominion which cannot be gratified here.  He weeps for more worlds to conquer.  He is only a boy yet, getting a grip on the hilt of the sword of conquest, feeling for some Prospero’s wand that is able to command the tempest.  When he gets the proper pitch of power, take away his body, and he is, as Richter says, no more afraid, and he is also free from the binding effect of gravitation.  Then there are worlds enough, and every one a lighthouse to guide him to its harbor.  They all seek a Columbus with more allurements than America did hers.  Dominion over ten cities is the reward for faithfulness in the use of a single talent.

Man has an instinct for travel and speed.  To travel a couple of months is a sufficient reward for a thousand toilful days.  He earnestly desires speed, develops race horses and bicycles to surpass them, yachts, and engines.  Not satisfied with this, he harnesses lightning that takes his mind, his thought, to the ends of the earth in a twinkling.  But he is stopped there.  How he yearns to go to the moon, the sun, and stars!  But he could not take his present body through the temperatures of space three or four hundred degrees below zero.  So he must find a way of disembodying and of attachment to some force swift as lightning, of which there are plenty in the spaces when the world has ceased to be a world.  It is all provided for by death.