the subject that really interested him more deeply than any other.

Following his letter in the Press, wherein he had seen machines as
in process of becoming animate, he went on to regard them as living
organs and limbs which we had made outside ourselves. What would
follow if we reversed this and regarded our limbs and organs as
machines which we had manufactured as parts of our bodies? In the
first place, how did we come to make them without knowing anything
about it? But then, how comes anybody to do anything unconsciously?
The answer usually would be: By habit. But can a man be said to do
a thing by habit when he has never done it before? His ancestors
have done it, but not he. Can the habit have been acquired by them
for his benefit? Not unless he and his ancestors are the same
person. Perhaps, then, they are the same person.

In February, 1876, partly to clear his mind and partly to tell
someone, he wrote down his thoughts in a letter to his namesake,
Thomas William Gale Butler, a fellow art-student who was then in New
Zealand; so much of the letter as concerns the growth of his theory
is given in The Note-Books of Samuel Butler (1912) and a resume of
the theory will be found at the end of the last of the essays in
this volume, "The Deadlock in Darwinism." In September, 1877, when
Life and Habit was on the eve of publication, Mr. Francis Darwin
came to lunch with him in Clifford's Inn and, in course of
conversation, told him that Professor Ray Lankester had written
something in Nature about a lecture by Dr. Ewald Hering of Prague,
delivered so long ago as 1870, "On Memory as a Universal Function of
Organized Matter." This rather alarmed Butler, but he deferred
looking up the reference until after December, 1877, when his book
was out, and then, to his relief, he found that Hering's theory was