was limited. He _has_ become popular, and the good he is
likely to do will be unlimited. The people read him, though we may
wonder at it, and they comprehend him."

This estimate is not overrated, for, having confidence in his mission
to humanity, he was fortified by the belief of his existing as an
indestructible portion of interminable nature and the universal mind,
which in all high intelligences lives through the ages, not only in
the individual consciousness of the spirit, but in that immortality of
soul or mind, which lives in the race.

He hated the superstitions of Christian Fetishism and tyranny over the
intellect, but loved Christ and the other philosophers with a genuine
affection; he loved humanity, and was ever fond of examining its
highest phases, as, for instance, through the doctrines of perfect
equality in the sexes--yet he recognised that sudden changes were
prejudicial before sufficient progress had been accomplished. "To
destroy, you must replace." Justice he considered the sole guide,
reason and duty the only law. His morality was not that of pharasaical
tartuffes, nor of prudish knickerbockers, who with wide phylacteries,
sit in the high places to be seen of men. He only combatted evil
principles and fought hard in favor of good.

He has been quoted as being too transcendental; he may be to dullards
with imperfect reasoning faculties, or theologians, who only see
through fanatical and green-monsterish spectacles, but to men who
have a _live_ philosophy equally adapted to modern as well as ancient
thought, he is as clear as the noon-day sun. All that is required, to
comprehend Percy Bysshe Shelley, is integralism of that high order
which has ever believed in the ultimate perfectibility of human
nature, and looked "forward to a period when a new golden age would
return to earth, when all the different creeds and systems of the
world would be amalgamated into one, crime disappear, and man, freed
from shackles, civil and religious, bow before the throne 'of his own
awless soul,' or 'of the power unknown,'" whose veil it is the
ambition of theosophy to raise for humanity, and remain the
"inscrutable" no longer.

I have completed my task, and with humility I make the statement,
knowing that before me are many who could have performed it as
completely as I have crudely. I look upon my essay, in which I have
treated my subject popularly, with intention, as a beacon, whence a
little light may be shed d