the church, that the latter has accepted progress as a practical principle. So, protestantism advances along the path where science has led the way—at a variable distance. At present, in the whole protestant church, science is recognized as the court of last resort. The church no longer undertakes to say what shall be valid in science, i. e., what shall be true, but, on the contrary, endeavors to keep its doctrines in harmony with the established results of science, or, at least, seeks to show that no disharmony exists.
The root of the irresistible power of science lies therein, that she is, in fact, in possession of the truth. Certainly not of all truth, and still less of the absolute truth: but, all the truth which exists in our world is in the possession of science. This possession can never grow less, but is bound to increase.
What is truth? To this question Ostwald replies: Truth is that which makes possible prediction of the future. If a man says he fell down yesterday while alone, it is impossible to determine the truth of the statement, and his story must forever remain in that uncertain limbo where the distinction between true and false is lacking. If, however, he says: "To-morrow I shall go to Chicago," it is perfectly feasible to test the truth of the affirmation by observing the man on the following day.
The lesson taught by the illustration is a general one. In strictness, truth exists only as regards the future, since only in the future can we exercise trustworthy control. Although as to the past we have many witnesses and traces, nevertheless, our conclusion from them has only the character of a probability, and floats somewhere between truth and falsehood, although at times very near the former. The truth of an allegation with regard to the future can, in general, be positively settled. Moreover, we have no interest in the past as such, since we can not change it for better or worse. We can change the future, and it only. Hence, we call that truth which enables us to have a sure influence on the future. Many cases indeed exist where we wish to know the truth about the past, but such truth interests us only in so far as it enables us to exert a defined influence on the future. Whether snow fell on February 3, 1325, on the spot where my house now stands has for me no importance, because for me nothing depends upon it. But if I had information of the qualities of my ancestors for several generations back, it would interest me, for the reason that it would give me knowledge of my own mental and moral make-up and assist my self-culture. Self-culture is, however, equivalent to a regulation of my conduct in the future.
All our fellow-men are able to predict the future more or less, in the measure that they possess science. When the domestic lights a fire in the stove of a winter morning she goes through a series of manipulations, which of themselves produce no heat, on the sure prediction that her labors in carrying coal, chopping kindling and striking a match will
