man, on the other hand, manages to make so-called natural death the
rule, to which, however, there are a good many exceptions,--the
advantage is on the side of the brute, for the reason stated above.
But the fact is that man attains the natural term of years just as
seldom as the brute; because the unnatural way in which he lives, and
the strain of work and emotion, lead to a degeneration of the race;
and so his goal is not often reached.

The brute is much more content with mere existence than man; the plant
is wholly so; and man finds satisfaction in it just in proportion as
he is dull and obtuse. Accordingly, the life of the brute carries less
of sorrow with it, but also less of joy, when compared with the life
of man; and while this may be traced, on the one side, to freedom from
the torment of _care_ and _anxiety_, it is also due to the fact
that _hope_, in any real sense, is unknown to the brute. It is thus
deprived of any share in that which gives us the most and best of our
joys and pleasures, the mental anticipation of a happy future, and the
inspiriting play of phantasy, both of which we owe to our power of
imagination. If the brute is free from care, it is also, in this
sense, without hope; in either case, because its consciousness is
limited to the present moment, to what it can actually see before
it. The brute is an embodiment of present impulses, and hence what
elements of fear and hope exist in its nature--and they do not go very
far--arise only in relation to objects that lie before it and within
reach of those impulses: whereas a man's range of vision embraces the
whole of his life, and extends far into the past and future.

Following upon this, there is one respect in which brutes show real
wisdom when compared with us--I mean, their quiet, placid enjoyment of
the present moment. The tranquillity of mind which this seems to give