A slim book of 28 pages lies before the reviewer. It has stiff sides and an open back, peculiarly and strongly corded, as one sometimes sews covers upon a pamphlet, for strength and protection. On the titlepage is a symbolic triangle, with radiating rays. It is published by Cupples, Upham & Co., and purports to be an answer to the title-question, from his little boy, "by a fellow of the Theosophical Society; " but it confines Theosophy mainly to the teachings of the Hindoo Adepts, about Karma, Devachan, and Nirvana.
There is the usual failure to answer, satisfactorily, the questions: "Why do the Adepts not tell us all the things they have learned?" and "Why is their consequent power not revealed to ordinary folks?" To be sure, the book says otherwise; nevertheless it assumes—or seems to do so—an aristocracy of intellectual spirituality. If Theosophy is practically valuable, it can be like Christianity, which the common people heard gladly; or like Christian Science, hid from the wise and prudent, but revealed unto babes.
In all ages it has been true that mysteries sink into nothingness when the light comes. Hierophants are not great to their valets, nor are their systems wonderful to the piercing sunshine of common-sense, which brushes away the mould gathered in the dank darkness. Few understand the chemistry of bread or beef, but these are daily food. A recent book, and a learned one, was guilty of the error of speaking of atmospheric air as compounded of hydrogen and oxygen, instead of nitrogen and oxygen; yet every creature breathes it safely and helpfully. We can see by electric light and moonlight, though neither is fully understood. So should Truth shine, upon the learned and unlearned, as rain falls upon "the just and the unjust." Only a handful of students comprehend the Principle of Mathematics, but the million apply its rules to daily affairs.
