differs from other learned persons--tell us they know all that is worth
knowing about man, which statement, of course, includes woman. They
trace him from his remotest origin; they show us how his bones changed
and his shape modified, also how, under the influence of his needs and
passions, his intelligence developed from something very humble.
They demonstrate conclusively that there is nothing in man which the
dissecting-table will not explain; that his aspirations towards another
life have their root in the fear of death, or, say others of them, in
that of earthquake or thunder; that his affinities with the past are
merely inherited from remote ancestors who lived in that past, perhaps a
million years ago; and that everything noble about him is but the fruit
of expediency or of a veneer of civilisation, while everything base must
be attributed to the instincts of his dominant and primeval nature. Man,
in short, is an animal who, like every other animal, is finally subdued
by his environment and takes his colour from his surroundings, as cattle
do from the red soil of Devon. Such are the facts, they (or some of
them) declare; all the rest is rubbish.

At times we are inclined to agree with these sages, especially after it
has been our privilege to attend a course of lectures by one of them.
Then perhaps something comes within the range of our experience which
gives us pause and causes doubts, the old divine doubts, to arise again
deep in our hearts, and with them a yet diviner hope.

Perchance when all is said, so we think to ourselves, man _is_ something
more than an animal. Perchance he has known the past, the far past, and
will know the future, the far, far future. Perchance the dream is true,
and he does indeed possess what for convenience is called an immortal
soul, that may manifest itself in one shape or another; that may sleep
for ages, but, waking or sleeping, still remains itself, indestructible