r the same relation to analogies of
Law that Phenomena themselves bear to Law. The light of Law on truth, as
we have seen, is an immense advance upon the light of Phenomena. The
discovery of Law is simply the discovery of Science. And if the
analogies of Natural Law can be extended to the Spiritual World, that
whole region at once falls within the domain of science and secures a
basis as well as an illumination in the constitution and course of
Nature. All, therefore, that has been claimed for parable can be
predicated _a fortiori_ of this--with the addition that a proof on the
basis of Law would want no criterion possessed by the most advanced
science.

That the validity of analogy generally has been seriously questioned one
must frankly own. Doubtless there is much difficulty and even liability
to gross error in attempting to establish analogy in specific cases. The
value of the likeness appears differently to different minds, and in
discussing an individual instance questions of relevancy will invariably
crop up. Of course, in the language of John Stuart Mill, "when the
analogy can be proved, the argument founded upon it cannot be
resisted."[7] But so great is the difficulty of proof that many are
compelled to attach the most inferior weight to analogy as a method of
reasoning. "Analogical evidence is generally more successful in
silencing objections than in evincing truth. Though it rarely refutes it
frequently repels refutation; like those weapons which though they
cannot kill the enemy, will ward his blows.... It must be allowed that
analogical evidence is at least but a feeble support, and is hardly ever
honored with the name of proof."[8] Other authorities on the other hand,
such as Sir William Hamilton, admit analogy to a primary place in logic
and regard it as the very basis of induction.

But, fortunately, we are spared all discussion on this worn subject, for
two cogent reasons. For one thing, we do not demand of Nature directly
to prove Religion. That was never its function. Its function is to
interpret. And this, after all, is possibly the most fruitful proof. The
best proof of a thing is that we _see_ it; if we do not see it, perhaps
proof will not convince us of it. It is the want of the discerning
faculty, the clairvoyant power of seeing the eternal in the temporal,
rather than the failure of the reason, that begets the sceptic. But
secondly, and more particularly, a significant circumstance has to be